“Pert-tongued too.” The merest hint of a smile seemed to twitch under his mustache. “That is very much like your mother.”
“I appreciate that you find traces of my parents in me, but I come on my own merits,” she told him with a boldness Dom couldn’t help but admire. “I’ve agreed to serve as advisor to Mr. Prince during his time in Norfolk.” She gestured to the messy pile of documents on his desk. “Will you sign the agreement from the American and allow us to dig on Fenbridge land?”
The nobleman swung his gaze at Dom, and he felt the scrape of it. It was as if Lord Fenbridge was attempting to weigh hisvery soul. His father had a similar way of sizing up the merit of a man. Dom had always felt unnerved under such scrutiny. But unlike his gregarious father, Fenbridge had a grim air about him. The old man’s miseries seemed to fill the air around him with an oppressive weight.
Dom wondered if it was the weight of regrets.
“You’ll be heading this dig? Octavius Prince’s boy, are you?”
“Boy” was no doubt meant to provoke him, but Dom merely nodded. “Did you know my father?”
“Know him personally? No. Know of him? Of course. The man was a treasure seeker. Acclaim seeker. Prince had a craven need for fame, it seemed.” Fenbridge swept his gaze over Dom again. “Is that same hunger in you, boy? Is that why you want to dig up my hills?”
Dom felt Miss Hawthorne’s gaze on him as Fenbridge waited for an answer.
It was rare to not be eager to claim his father’s treasure-lust or admit how much they were alike, but this was one of those moments. The Hawthornes cared about the history of this swath of England, and Fenbridge cared about the land that had likely been in his family for many generations. He sensed his own shallowness in how clearly he could envision the write-up in the London papers if they found the hoard he and Eve suspected was buried under Fenbridge’s fields.
“Any antiquarian worth their salt would wish to find something of value when they dig into the earth.” The words didn’t satisfy the old man. They sounded thin to Dom’s ears too.
“And to have the Prince name associated with it is a boon indeed, yes?”
“Yes,” Dom admitted through a clenched jaw.
“Mm-hmm.” Fenbridge’s murmur was knowing and dismissive, and he seemed pleased to finally be able to turn his attention back to Tess Hawthorne.
“You want to help a fame chaser such as this Prince whelp?”
She hesitated for a breath. “I have agreed to. Yes.”
“Your seal of approval will carry great sway in Wiggenstow, Miss Hawthorne.” He slid one narrow-eyed look Dom’s way. “Indeed, that is precisely why Hawthorne assistance was desired to achieve the American’s aims.”
After one glance at the thick carpet below their feet, she tipped her gaze up. “Will you agree, Lord Fenbridge?”
“You wanted to find it yourself, girl. Why have you given up your aims to help this glory chaser?”
“Because you refused me, my lord.” She hitched up her chin and shot him a look that would chill most men’s bollocks. “Will you sign Van Arsdale’s papers or not?”
The old devil drew out the suspense, his dark eyes flitting from Miss Hawthorne to Dom and back again. Fenbridge’s gaze finally held on hers, and then the edges of his mouth inched up in a smirk.
“On one condition.” He lifted a gnarled, bony finger. “I will be apprised of your progress.”
“Of course,” Dom agreed.
“No,” Fenbridge all but shouted. “Apprised by Miss Hawthorne. You will come visit me, young lady. Daily. In the morning. As your father used to do.”
Dom watched her, trying to read her reaction. If she refused, he’d back her. The man’s demand struck him as overreaching.
“Very well,” she finally said. “I shall come each morning while the dig is underway.”
Fenbridge turned back to his desk, brushing a hand acrossthe piles of papers until he snatched up a particular document. With dramatic flair, he swiped up his pen and signed his name in a messy black scrawl. As the ink dried, he shot a look back at Miss Hawthorne.
“The dig is underway now. As soon as you take this document away with you and I take the lucre Van Arsdale sent my way. And you, Miss Hawthorne, will begin visiting me on Monday.”
Chapter Six
Teague ushered both of them out of Fenbridge Hall and they stood for a moment, drinking in the fresh air after the closeness of the hall’s dark rooms.
“We did it.” Mr. Prince shot her a boyish smile, then clapped his hands together, rubbing them against each other as if he could not wait to start. “We should begin immediately.”
