After Arthur was done with her, she’d never felt so abused or powerless. She remembered her fingers finding the pistol that had fallen from his coat pocket. Then she’d had power.
Dear God, she wished she’d never shot him, and yet, what would have become of her if she hadn’t?
This time, the brandy was not successful at chasing the “what ifs” from her brain...
If she had to marry someone, she’d rather it be Roman. He was right: she did owe him that much. But on what terms?
Hugging her pillow to her, her mind was suddenly alive with possibilities. She came from a long line of merchants and traders. She’d been taught that money had power... if she knew how to use it.
A plan began to form in her mind.
Roman punched down the hard pillow beneath his head. The hour was well past dawn and he hated not having a good night’s sleep. He’d had few of late. Money worries ate away at his serenity. Money worries and thoughts of Leonie.
He reimagined the scenes between them the night before. They had unfinished business and he would have no peace until they had a meeting of the minds.
That would be difficult because Leonie had made it very clear she would not consider his marriage offer. She probably wanted what all women seemed to desire these days—love.
Roman didn’t have time for love. He had people depending upon him. He had an estate to rebuild. He had so many dreams, he didn’t have time for courting.
By the time his man, Duncan Barr, knocked on the door of his rented rooms with his breakfast, Roman had worked himself into a foul mood. It was too bad Erzy and Malcolm had presented their vouchers for pay yesterday rather than today. Yesterday, Roman had been intimidated by the weight of taking his seat in the Lords.
Today, he was ready to act out his frustration.
Duncan had been Roman’s orderly when he’d first arrived in India and had remained loyally by his side throughout the fluctuations of his career. He now served as valet and secretary. He was a crusty Scot, twenty years older than Roman, and as ready as his master to return to Bonhomie and build a peaceful life. He was as close a friend as Roman could ever wish and didn’t cater to Roman’s moods. He carried a tray with covered dishes for Roman’s breakfast along with a pot of tea brewed so strong a man’s whiskers would pop out of his face with just one sip.
“Rough night, sir?” Barr set the tray on the desk, using the space Roman had just cleared by moving unread papers out of the way.
Roman grunted his thoughts, rubbed his eyes, and rose from bed. He reached for the offered mug of tea. It was hot as hades. The first drink woke him. The second fortified him. Roman knew by the time he reached the bottom, there wasn’t any challenge he couldn’t face.
He smiled his pleasure and then noticed a sealed envelope next to his silverware.
Seeing where Roman’s eye had landed, Barr said, “It arrived this morning. A servant delivered it. He said no response was needed.”
Roman picked up the envelope while Barr busied himself around the room, preparing to help his master dress. The handwriting on the address was decidedly feminine. There was no signet to the seal. Roman cracked it open and literally took a step back in surprise.
“Good or bad news, sir?” the unflappable Barr asked. He set impeccably polished boots out for Roman to wear.
“I don’t know.” Roman reread the words written in a surprisingly mature hand. He’d always imagined Leonie as one of those women who made wide loops on her “l’s” and “e’s.” “Miss Charnock has requested I call on her concerning a matter of mutual interest to us both.”
Barr froze in the act of laying out Roman’s shaving instruments. “MissCharnock?”
“Aye, the one and same. I didn’t mention her last night because I thought she was done with me.” He looked down at the note. “Apparently not.”
Straightening, Barr said, “I would think you would give a wide berth to that creature. Even without her past, it is a bold, forward move to send a missive to a single gentleman.” Duncan was not one to hold back his opinion.
“If I was wise, I would do as you suggest,” Roman agreed, aware that while moments before he’d been tired and irritable, he now experienced a surge of energy.
He sat at his desk, pulled out a sheet of paper, and wrote an answer:I beg leave to call upon you at four o’clock.He sanded the letter, blew it off, and sealed it. He offered it to Barr, who did not make a move toward him.
“Are you arranging an assignation with that creature?”
“Her name is Miss Charnock, and yes.”
“Do you not have a brain in your head? She ruined you the last time you helped her.”
“Deliver it, Barr. This may be my only hope. Or... you can visit me in debtors’ prison.”
Duncan took the letter.
