He wanted that smile back, that light in her eyes, and it irritated him that it wasn’t there.
“That I’m some sort of…” he searched for the word. “Rake.”
Lainey tipped her head back and laughed. “You sound like you think you’re some Georgian country gentleman.”
He didn’t respond, not sure how to, not able to figure out whether he was being insulted or not.
“I’ll put you on my list to be auctioned off then. Maybe it’ll add a small amount to the total.” She patted his arm with the hand that wasn’t holding her drink.
“Small?”
Lainey nodded. “Small. And even small things can be effective. You know that.”
“I’m pretty sure that any amount I raise will be large. Definitely more than satisfactory.” He was also pretty sure neither of them were talking about money right now.
Lainey’s shrug was accompanied with a sweet smile. “You believe that if it makes you feel happy.”
Jake sipped at his beer. “Put me down for your auction. I’ll let you know what else the date includes and to help you out, I’ll donate a weekend in one of the glamping pods too. I wouldn’t want you to be completely overshadowed by how much I raise with the gig, with you trying to make a good impression and all.”
He expected some sort of come back, a put down that would show just how much he’d rankled her.
None came.
“Thank you, Jake. It’s appreciated.” She smiled again and walked away, leaving him with blood that was boiling.
Chapter Six
Early mornings had never been a problem for Lainey. Her sister, Imogen, hated them with a passion, preferring to keep the hours of an owl, whereas Lainey had always been up before the hour turned six. She’d spent summers on her family’s farm in Ireland with her father’s aunt and her husband. Term time had been spent at a boarding school in England, one where distant members of the royal family had attended and daughters of people she should’ve cared about. Her paternal grandfather had held a peerage; her paternal grandmother had made sure none of her children cared about it, and it hadn’t been passed down, but the family money had, along with a work ethic that had been taken more seriously than any title.
None of her friends realised that she had a trust fund which pretty meant she didn’t have to work if she chose. She could’ve opted for an easier path, if such a thing existed, but that had never really been a realistic choice. Her brother was on his way to becoming some hotshot surgeon; Imogen already had a decent reputation as a lawyer; Maven had won two awards for plays that she’d directed off-Broadway, and Catrin was opening her third gallery and first in London. None of them were exactly staying in bed all morning debating a trip to the salon.
Lainey stared at her fingernails. She wasn’t entirely sure what was under her fingernails, but she knew she needed a shower and something to scrub at them. The morning had constituted of fixing a stable roof; climbing up a tree to remove a heavy branch that had dropped but not quite fallen, which had done damage to the roof, and then mucking out those stables. It was work she could’ve delegated to her stable hands, only she liked to do it for herself and she didn’t have any clients until midday. Now was breakfast, to be enjoyed in silence, and with a shower beforehand, so she at least felt clean for about half an hour.
A hoodie, thick leggings and ratty T-shirt were thrown into the wash, along with a sports bra that reminded Lainey she needed to buy new underwear sooner rather than later. At some point, she needed to at least think about going on a date. There were itches that just weren’t the same when they were scratched by herself, no matter how good the sons of Bridgerton were. And although there were parts of her history that resembled a Regency romance, her chapter was more likely to be the mucking out of a stable.
The temperature of the water had just about got to scalding point when she heard a bang at the door, the sort that wouldn’t go away, rather like an irritating case of conjunctivitis with the side of a water infection.
She yanked a towel around her, adding new bath sheets to her list of things to buy, given this was threadbare. If her visitor was Jake Maynard, she had every mind to flash him and kill him with embarrassment, if the man could be killed that way. She was pretty sure only a hex could do the job.
The knocking continued. By the time she got to her front door she was ready to throw a conniption and feed whoever was banging to Jake’s pigs, including him himself.
“I’m here.” She glared hard enough to knock the poor delivery driver right over.
He quivered, looked about seventeen, and his eyes fixed onto her breasts. “I’m sorry. So sorry to disturb you but…”
His eyes remained fixed.
There was nothing Lainey could do. Her hands were occupied trying to make sure the towel didn’t drop. She’d yet to question herself as to why she’d been intending to somehow embarrass Jake in this way, but now wasn’t the time for a trial run.
“But what?”
“I have a delivery for Mr Maynard and when he wasn’t in, I rang him and he said to ask if you’d sign for it as it has to be delivered today and he couldn’t get straight back and… and can you sign here?” He thrust a handheld electronic thing with an attached stylus in front of her, straight towards her breasts as if they would develop arms and sign his card.
“What’s the delivery?”
The delivery boy shrugged.
Lainey shook her head, thinking of all the ways she could murder her neighbour. She managed to secure the towel under her arms to avoid any slippage and wrote something that vaguely resembled her signature on the electronic thing.
