She collected several pages behind the one she’d read from and lifted the thick, neat pile out to him. “These are my notes on the Norfolk project and also the letters from Van Arsdale and his man in London.”
Dom took them and willed away the quiver in his belly. “Perfect.”
Eve studied him, and he knew that she, much like Peter, could often see what he thought he was a master at concealing.
“I’m not going to ask about the blood on your hand or the bruise on your jaw.”
“Best you don’t.” Dom cracked one of his signature grins and tried not to wince when his jaw protested.
“I know you’re eager to start moving again. Dominic Prince remaining in London for nearly six months is nigh unheard of.” This time she grinned, but it was soft and carried a hint of sadness. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”
“Like what?” He was curious, as he always had been with Peter, to know what she saw that others missed.
Eve gestured toward him and then swung her arm to encompass the spartan, narrow bedroom. “You close yourself off from the rest of us at home and end up looking like a trapped animal. It’s as if you won’t allow yourself any ease.”
“There’s no point in calcifying.”
A muscle tensed in her jaw. “Must we forever parrot what Papa used to say?”
“Perhaps he had a point.”
She pulled her folio against her chest, and he could all but see her mind whirring.
She hadn’t had the rapport with their father that he had. While their father had mentored and molded Dom, he’d always been a bit put off by Eve’s intelligence and diligence. He’d wanted to marry her off to a nobleman to improve their family’s cachet in polite society, not watch her stack up a pile of academic papers and accolades for her research and writing skills.
“I don’t think he did,” she finally said, the words spilling from her as if she’d been holding them in a long while. “He wasa man who could not be bothered with the day-to-day tasks of fatherhood and family life. He was so absorbed in his own wishes, he barely had time to consider Mama’s. Or ours.”
“Eve—”
“You don’t have to be a facsimile of him, Dom. You can decide what you want, and what makes you happy.”
His heartbeat ratcheted up again. Peter would wholeheartedly agree with his sister. “If you start talking about getting leg-shackled—”
“I wasn’t going to, but...” Her eyes widened. “Have you met someone?”
“No! Not at all.” Bloody hell, he wanted to end this conversation. He lifted her notes still clutched in his hand. “Thank you for these. I hope you know I’d much rather you were coming too. We started this together, and you should be there if we find what we both hope we will.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll come as soon as the conference in Berlin ends.” She nodded at her notes. “In the meantime, hopefully Van Arsdale’s man in Norfolk proves a good partner.”
Dom hoped so too. Van Arsdale liked to manage every little detail from New York, or Mr. Worthy, his man of business, did so from London. It would be far better to have someone with local connections.
“Wish me luck.” She wore the same vibrant smile as when she’d first greeted him. His sister didn’t need luck. He suspected there were few women in England as confident and competent as Eve.
“You’ll impress them all.” He leaned forward to buss her cheek. “Safe travels.”
“Oh, there’s one more thing.”
“What’s that then?” He steeled himself for more talk of their father or questions about his amorous pursuits.
“Before you depart for Norfolk, could you do me one tiny favor?” Her tone had softened to the lilting cadence his sisters used when trying to persuade him, but there was an undercurrent of hesitation.
He had the distinct feeling it would be a task he’d loathe.
“Lady Goddard—”
Dom groaned before she could say another word.
“She has some books she’d like appraised, and, frankly, I think she’d rather have your opinion. She’s very fond of you.”
