2
Arrivingat the hotel he’d acquired two years earlier, Devon entered the manager’s office after a quick rap on the door. He’d bought the building shortly after inheriting his title, when he’d realized the true cost of running his estates. Fearing the day would come when his descendants would not be able to afford the expense, he’d done what most would consider unusual, perhaps even unacceptable, for a duke. He’d gone into trade, albeit in a classy sort of way and with complete discretion.
“Mr. Roth,” he said, greeting the middle-aged gentleman to whom he entrusted the daily running of his business, “I would like to discuss the letter you sent me.”
Mr. Roth rose from behind his desk and extended his hand. “Your Grace. I am much relieved by your presence.” Devon shook his hand and lowered himself to a vacant chair. Mr. Roth sat too. “Your opinion of my suggestions to aid the business is most welcome.”
“From what I gather, the Park View isn’t doing as well as we’d hoped.”
Flattening his mouth, Mr. Roth drummed his fingers against his armrests before saying, “Income has been steadily declining since the hotel opened. This year, we stand to make half of what we made last year.”
Devon frowned. As far as investments went, this was proving to be a catastrophe. “Any idea why this might be?”
Mr. Roth nodded. “Few clients return for a second visit. They seem to favor the High Tower. The rooms there are significantly cheaper.”
“So you advise a price reduction?”
“And the dismissal of twenty employees.” When Devon raised his eyebrows, Mr. Roth added, “We have to cut cost somewhere, Your Grace. This is the most obvious approach.”
“It will also hurt a lot of good people.”
“Yes, but keeping them on would be detrimental. Unless you plan on putting more money into the business, which rather defeats the purpose of your investment.”
“Of course.” Devon leaned back in his chair and considered the problem at hand. “What I need is for it to sustain itself and grow without additional funds being added.”
Nodding, Mr. Roth looked him squarely in the eye. “Then allow me to make the necessary adjustments, Your Grace.”
Devon hated the idea of referring to the discharge of employees as a necessary adjustment, but he could see Mr. Roth’s point. Still…“I expect each of these people to receive some compensation, thirty pounds at least, along with a decent letter of recommendation.”
Mr. Roth inclined his head. “Of course, Your Grace. You may rest assured no one will feel the least bit slighted.”
Devon grunted his response since he believed the opposite would be true. They were discussing people’s livelihoods, after all–more specifically, the snatching away of them. Resentment would be inevitable. But to say as much would serve no purpose. Rising, Devon made to take his leave. “I trust you to keep the best employees and to dismiss only those whose work has been found lacking.”
If it wouldn’t have been exceedingly rude of him to do so, Devon imagined, Mr. Roth would have rolled his eyes. Instead, he gave a tight smile. “Naturally, that goes without saying.”
Devon asked the manager to keep him apprised of the progress, before leaving the Park View’s future in Mr. Roth’s capable hands. Devon had other pressing matters to attend to, like convincing Miss Potter to do what he asked. He’d written his sister the previous afternoon, immediately after returning home from his visit with Miss Potter, and asked her to come to Town post haste.
Rowena would not be thrilled. There was little to do in London this time of year. Most families chose to rusticate in their grand estates for the winter. But at least Miss Potter would not be alone.With him. He winced at the prospect while his driver set a course for Piccadilly, where he intended to do some necessary shopping.
She was attractive. No doubt about it. And he…hell, there had been a moment–several, in fact–where he’d been inclined to be anything but proper. Like when she’d called him a pompous ass. There had been something about the fiery look in her eyes as she’d stood there, stiff and commanding. It had roused his senses.
No one had ever put him in his place with such exemplary efficiency before. The effect had been not only humbling but thoroughly arousing. It had tempted him with thoughts—wild and wicked—of what her chastising mouth might taste like and how she’d respond to his touch. Would she apply an equal measure of passion to lovemaking? Would she be equally free and honest in her demand for pleasure?
Most assuredly, he reckoned. And as this idea began to take root, he found himself wanting to explore the possibility, to take her in his arms and show her what it meant to stir a man’s blood.
Christ!
He’d clearly gone too long without a bed partner. Perhaps a visit to Madame Lizette would be in order. Having sordid ponderings about Miss Potter was definitely not the right approach. It had to stop. Immediately. So he set his mind to the items he needed to purchase and did his best not to think of Miss Potter. Having an affair with her would lead to a whole new set of problems, which was something he wanted to do without.
* * *
Two days had passedsince the duke had made his demands. Arriving home earlier than usual, Josephine entered her parlor on wooden feet and slumped down into the nearest armchair. Her job, the one she’d depended so thoroughly on, had been taken from her no more than an hour earlier. She could scarcely credit it, could not even feel the cold on account of her numbness. Somewhere deep in her chest, she felt her heart beat—a dull thud of failure. Her breath came raggedly, pushing its way in and out of her lungs as if forcing life into her disheartened body.
She’d no idea how long she’d been sitting there before a loud knock broke the silence. It came not from the front door but from the back, and with increasing incessancy. Rising, she hastened toward the sound.
“What?” she demanded, not caring who it might be as she tore the door open.
The Duke of Snowdon stood before her, his expression immediately hinting at caution. “Is this a bad time, Miss Potter?”
