Tess grinned, catching a bit of his exuberance, though she couldn’t resist reminding him, “You haven’t yet shared any details of your plan, Mr. Prince. Surely, there’s a great deal of preparation to undertake first.”
“Oh, there is, but...” His face fell a bit, growing serious. “Can we begin with you calling me Dominic?”
“I don’t think—”
“We’ll be working together for weeks, perhaps months. I suggest it for practical reasons.” He lowered his gaze, almost sheepishly. “I do understand when formality is necessary, as with Fenbridge, but surely we can do away with it while planning.”
She’d known the man for all of two days, and yet she had agreed to assist him. It seemed a simple request. “Then you may call me Tess.”
“Tess,” he said as if testing how the single syllable felt on his tongue. He drew it out softly, almost reverently. He madeher feel as if something as simple as calling her by name was an honor.
Tess swallowed hard and hoped he didn’t notice.
Ridiculous. She was being utterly ridiculous. She was getting drawn in, and she knew better than to let her guard down.
“Where should we convene?” He looked off toward the village. “At the inn?”
Tess thought of the rumpled bedclothes she’d spied behind him this morning. She knew the dangers of meeting a gentleman alone in his rooms, and it was a mistake she would never repeat again.
“There’s a public room upstairs,” he offered as if to reassure her. “A sitting room of sorts. That’s what I meant.”
Could the dratted man read her mind?
“That might do, or you could come to the cottage. Father’s study is surprisingly spacious.” She didn’t know why she was inviting him home again, but it seemed a better option than the inn. She could imagine the village gossip and speculation.
“Hmm.” Those amber-brown eyes of his sparked. “And there’s the added enticement of whatever Mrs. Wells has baked.”
Tess didn’t bother telling him that Mrs. Wells had mentioned him half a dozen times that morning. After all that had happened, Mrs. Wells was generally as wary of attractive young men as Tess was, but somehow Dominic Prince had already charmed her.
“Shall we?” He started off and turned back to make sure she was following.
“What’s first in your mind?” Tess asked as she kept pace beside him.
“Help with the dig. We need men. I’m thinking ten.” He glanced over at her. “Too many?”
“Not at all. I was thinking a dozen. They could work in shifts.”
He nodded. “Exactly. Will it be hard to round up that many?”
“I shouldn’t think so.” Tess thought of the Bromleys. Beyond the brothers, there was a passel of cousins. And there were a few other young men in the village who often sought extra work. Tristan would know, and The Black Swan would be the perfect place to spread the word.
Tess was on the cusp of suggesting they go there first when she heard someone call her name.
“Miss Hawthorne.” The feminine voice rang out in an unmistakably husky tone.
They both turned toward the sound, and Tess repressed a groan.
Miss Priscilla Walcott had been a rare young female student among her father’s tutees. The young woman’s father, Sir Owen Walcott, believed his daughter should be educated as well as his son. Since they were of a similar age, Tess had tried to befriend the girl, but Priscilla had always insisted on seeing them as rivals, or perhaps seeing herself as Tess’s better. All Tess knew was that they’d never gotten on as well as she’d wished.
Rumor had it that Miss Walcott had once been as taken in by Mr. Shaw as Tess had been, but they’d never spoken about it. As if they each wanted to keep their regrets to themself.
“How could you fail to tell me of Mr. Prince’s arrival, Miss Hawthorne?” Priscilla asked teasingly, though there was more irritation than warmth in her tone. “I had to hear about it in the village.”
“I only arrived yesterday,” Mr. Prince—Dominic—told herwith a friendly smile. Not quite his usual smoldering charm, but it seemed to work its appeal on Miss Walcott, nonetheless.
“Then I suppose you can be forgiven.” Her coquettish smile was legend in Wiggenstow, and Tess understood why.
“Miss Priscilla Walcott, may I present Mr. Dominic Prince.” Tess stepped back when Priscilla strode closer, planting herself in Dominic’s path.
