Her impression of him mattered. He wanted her to like him, to admire and respect him.
Which was odd, because he generally did not care what others thought of him. And yet he yearned for Berry’s approval.
He hoped she would see him tomorrow.
Well, he would repair the damage if she remained angry. He knew how to charm a lady. He had mastered the tricks of seduction by the age of fifteen.
Not that he meant to seduce her, only charm her. If that did not work, then he would have to do a bit of groveling.
Bollocks.
He was never good at bending the knee and apologizing. In fact, he had never done it before. Not even as a child. This simply was not in his nature.
But he would do it for Berry.
She was studying him. For once, he could not read her expression.
Was he forgiven? Or was he still stuck in that hole?
Chapter Five
Berry stared outthe window of her upper-floor parlor the following morning and watched Gideon Knight’s men putting in the massive glass doors at the rear of Fiona’s old townhouse that now belonged to him. He was there with them, his shoulders straining as he worked alongside them, hefting a door into its fitted frame.
She was not certain what to make of him. He was like no man she had ever met before. His thin veneer of polish masked a raw masculinity. She ought to have realized he was polite to her only because he held himself on a tight leash.
She had never heard of dragons ever being restrained by a leash. No, dragons broke free and burned everything in sight when they were angry.
Even when restrained, Gideon Knight lived by a simple rule:Hurt me and I will hurt you harder.
Perhaps this was a code of the streets. She had very little experience with men outside of her social circle, and likely never would while sheltered within the confines of Duchess Square. Here she was shielded from so much of life’s harsh realities.
But he was a product of a harsher upbringing. The orphanage protected the children they took in, but it wasn’t the same as having loving parents or guardians. The children had to leave by their fifteenth birthday for boys and sixteenth birthday for girls. If the orphanage could not place them in apprenticeshipsor other positions, they were left to fend on their own. Of course, the orphanage staff did their very best to have every child placed somewhere safe when it came time for them to leave.
Gideon was older than her by five or six years, she estimated. Older by a thousand years when it came to experience. She did not know if he had been one of the boys unable to be placed, for he did not strike her as the sort to take orders from anyone, not even when he was a lad.
Good morning,she mouthed when he looked up after securing the first door in its place.
He smiled and waved back at her.Good morning,he mouthed back, and then returned his attention to the work of putting the second glass door in its frame.
After a full month of hammering and smashing old glass, repairing slate, and replacing massive beams, the silence was disquieting. Funny how one so quickly forgot how silent this square of homes usually was. Their street was not a thoroughfare, so no one entered unless they were visiting one of the six homes comprising Duchess Square.
There was a small park in the center that held a few shade trees, several lilac trees, some benches, and an abundance of flowers that her gardener maintained. Most of the flowers were rose cuttings from her garden, but other flowers had been planted as well, starting with daffodils and irises in the late spring and ending with hollyhocks and sunflowers in autumn. In between were poppies, lilies, and Italian alkanet that was hardy enough to bloom throughout the summer and was a stunningly vibrant shade of blue.
Mr. Knight finished placing and securing the second door, and then glanced up at her again.
She beckoned him to come over.
Perhaps it wasn’t proper, but who would notice or care? Certainly not her friends, Miranda and Gwendolyn, each ofwhom occupied a house in the square. As for the owners of the remaining two townhouses, they were not in London at present.
“Mrs. Bolton,” she called, “would you bring a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses onto the terrace? And have Melton take several more pitchers and a dozen glasses next door to Mr. Knight’s workers.”
“Is that wise?” her housekeeper remarked, casting Berry a wry smile. “And I am not speaking of the neighborly act of bringing over something to those workers to quench their thirst. I am speaking of the man you have just invited over here. Be careful, m’lady. He is wickedly handsome and appears polite enough, but…you ought not encourage him. He isn’t quality.”
“He does not hold atitle, nor is he descended from nobility. But this is all he lacks. Were I forced to choose between him and Viscount Hawthorne, I would not hesitate to choose him,” Berry said with finality.
“Then let’s hope you never have to make such a choice, because neither one is suitable for you. But at least with Viscount Hawthorne, you would maintain your good reputation and popularity among yourtonfriends.”
“While he gambles away my fortune? No, thank you.” She glanced out the window again, hoping Mr. Knight would make his way over to her soon. “Mr. Knight will be assisting Lord Berwick in managing my financial affairs and I have offered to assist him in furnishing his home. He is woefully inept when it comes to matters of décor. And we don’t want a garish house ruining our lovely square, do we?”
