He blinked as if confused by her question. “I only told the truth.”
“But all of this will be your achievement.”
“That’s nonsense,” he said, almost affronted by her claim. “I won’t ever claim credit for your finds.”
“But I work for you. We all do on the dig.”
He took the glass from her hands and downed the rest in a single swallow. “Are you determined to argue with me? Are we back to being at odds like the day we met?”
“I’m not arguing, just being precise.” Part of her wanted to row with him. It would make it all so much easier.
“You’re maddening.” He stepped closer. “From the moment I met you, you have been.” His voice had dropped low, quiet, just for her ears. “And I’ve wanted you from that moment to this one.” His breath gusted against her cheek as he bent further to whisper in her ear. “The question, darling Tess, is what do you want?”
His nearness made her feel as if she was going to tip off the dais, and she reached for him, a hand against the heat of his chest.
Immediately, he laid his hand over hers. “Tell me you feel as I do.” There was a thread of desperation in his voice.
Then a deep-toned bell rang somewhere in the house, quieting the conversation in the room.
“Dinner is served,” a footman announced loudly, and as a wave the bejeweled and richly garbed crowd moved one after the other from the drawing room toward the dining room.
“We should go in to dinner,” Tess told him because this wasn’t the time to say more.
“I’ll escort you.” He offered his arm, and she took it.
“Will you sit by me?” She wasn’t sure why she asked, but she wanted it all the same.
“Yes, if you want me to. Do you?”
But even as he asked the question, Sofia Van Arsdale rushed up to them and grabbed him by the arm.
“Come, Mr. Prince, you must be meet Lord Gowring. He says he’s followed your career and knew your father.”
He held fast to Tess, where she had laid her hand on his arm. But she knew he was in an impossible situation and slipped her hand free.
“Go on,” she told him. “Find me after dinner.”
Tess watched him go and then followed the last of the guests into the crowded dining room. Van Arsdale sat at one end of the long table and his daughter sat at the opposite end. Fenbridge was, once again, missing from an event in his own home.
Tristan waved from the near side of the table. “Sit with us,” he called to her over the din of conversation.
Tess approached, nearly colliding with a footman who’d already begun serving. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
He frowned, but before he could stop her, she headed out of the dining room in search of a member of Fenbridge’s staff. She found a harried-looking maid in the hall.
“Could you direct me to his lordship, please?”
“I believe he’s in his study, miss.”
“Thank you.” Each step Tess took away from the dining room and the clutter of guests, she breathed a bit easier, thought a bit more clearly. Though she didn’t feel at ease.
Everything about the night, barring the moments withDominic and the pleasure of seeing Tristan and Justine together, felt wrong. And she was determined to solve the mystery of why the garrulous Fenbridge was behaving like a kicked dog in his own home.
The study door was closed over, but she twisted the latch and found it unlocked. When she stepped inside, it was as if she’d entered a separate world from the noisy, gem-crusted one of the Van Arsdales.
His study was lined with bookshelves along one wall, polished wood paneling on all the rest, and lovely landscape paintings which she’d always admired. Tonight, he had his window that looked out on the garden open, letting in the breeze. He sat in his enormous desk chair with his boots propped up on the window ledge.
“Thought you might come find me,” he said without even looking at her. “Imagined your brother would revel in all of it, but you’d tire of it soon enough.”
