“I’m sorry. That’s outrageous. I never would have allowed her to do such a thing.”
She arched a brow at that. “Do you have such powers of persuasion over her?” There was a note of suspicion, perhaps accusation, in her tone.
“I would have damned well tried.” He meant every word. The notion that the noblewoman had dismissed her made his gut churn. He hardly knew Miss Hawthorne and yet every protective instinct made him furious she’d lost her post because of him. “I can send off a telegram first thing tomorrow.”
“No, please don’t. I’m happy to be home. But now... you’re here,” she said, her hand still in his. “Why?”
“I know why,” her brother said from behind them in a singsong tone. “It’s to do with what I told you in the pub, Tess. He must be Van Arsdale’s man on the scene, though the letter said a Miss Prince would be returning to Norfolk.”
At that, Miss Hawthorne pulled her hand from his.
“Of course, you’ve come for the dig.” A bit of annoyanceentered her voice, much like he’d heard every time she’d addressed him this morning.
Good grief, had they only just met this morning? It felt as if she’d been on his mind much longer than that.
“I’ve come to hire your brother.” Dom cast one glance over his shoulder.
Mr. Hawthorne immediately approached and clapped a hand on his shoulder as if they were old chums. “No, Prince, your Van Arsdale wanted my father, but Pater’s no longer with us. Though Tess will do the job nicely.”
Dom turned to him, forcing Hawthorne to remove his hand. “You’re not T. S. Hawthorne?”
“T. O. Hawthorne,” he said with a hand over his heart. “Though Tess is a T. S. Hawthorne, just like our father was. You see how convenient this all is.”
Dom didn’t know about convenience. The whole thing seemed a bit of a muddle, and all his body knew for certain was that a lovely woman was nearby and he wanted to know her better.
“Then you’re the one Van Arsdale wanted,” he said to her. “Has he written to you about engaging your help for this dig?”
“He wanted my father, as Tristan said,” she told him, her arms crossed over her chest. “I haven’t yet seen the letter, but I don’t think I can help you.”
“Tess...” This emerged from her brother in a whine that reminded Dom of the way he and his sisters would have spoken to each other when trying to wheedle something.
She stared up at Dom, studying him. He tracked her gaze as she took in his face, the width of his shoulders, his mussed hair. He could usually guess what women were thinking whenthey looked at him. Their eyes lit, or their cheeks flushed, or the tilt of their lips gave it all away. Yet Miss Tess Hawthorne was inscrutable.
And that only made him more determined.
“Is there a place we could discuss the matter?” he asked her. Alone, preferably, though he dared not say it.
She let out a sigh, lowered her arms, and cast a glance at her brother.
“You might as well come home with us,” she said with more resignation than eagerness. “I want to have a look at this letter the American titan sent.”
Mrs. Wells rushed out the door as soon as they were at the wooden gate in front of Foxdene, as if she’d been watching for them. Tess felt a pang of regret that they’d caused her to worry.
“Oh heavens, I heard you were in the lockup,” she said as she joined them. “I was just on my way to see for myself.”
News traveled fast in Wiggenstow.
She scanned them both from boot to brow. “Are you injured?”
The question was mostly directed at Tristan, who grinned and bent to kiss her cheek.
“Not a bit of it, Wellsy. I ducked every blow,” he boasted easily, though none of it was true.
“I stopped it before there was more than a single blow,” Tess corrected.
Mrs. Wells just looked pleased to find them both in one piece. Then she clutched her chest and let out an utterly female sound of delight.
“Oh my. Good heavens, who’s this?” She took a few stepscloser to Dominic Prince and looked up at him as if peering up at a colossus. “Mercy, aren’t you tall and dashing?”
