“Are you sure?” His voice had grown taut, as though it required great effort for him to keep the words steady.
She nodded. “Of course I’m sure. I have worked there for almost a year.”
“Did he make other advances on you in that time?”
Offended, she glared at him. “In light of what happened today, do you honestly think I would have remained in his employ if he had?”
Nostrils flaring, Snowdon gave a swift shake of his head. “No. I don’t believe you would.” His brow creased with deep grooves and he dropped his gaze to the tray. He drew a deep breath, then expelled it, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides as though he struggled with some inner turmoil.
“Your Grace?”
He did not answer immediately. A few seconds passed before he finally glanced at her, the stormy display of emotion held in the depths of his eyes effectively sending a shiver along her spine. “I am so sorry this happened to you, Miss Potter.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your saying so, considering our differing opinions on the matter of my employment.”
“You don’t understand.”
Something about his manner, some great sense of regret, gave Josephine pause.
And then he said, “I am to blame for this. Mr. Roth is in my employ, and while I can assure you of his impending punishment, I wish it had never happened in the first place.”
She gaped at him, aware her lips had parted with absolute disbelief, her eyes no doubt wider than the ocean, while she stared at him, unable to think of what to say next except, “What do you mean?”
Swallowing, he told her plainly, “I own the Park View Hotel.”
Clarity whipped through her with terrifying precision. “Dear God.” She took a retreating step back. “You must have known I worked there.”
It was his turn to look confused. “Nonsense. I only found out about it right now, during the course of this conversation.”
“Really? So it is a coincidence that you demanded I stop working, and I lost my job two days later?” She could feel the anger returning, more violently than before, the notion of betrayal cutting deep.
“Yes.” His eyes were wild now as he moved toward her with startling swiftness to close the door at her back, effectively halting her progress. He leaned in, his hand on the handle behind her, his chest so close she could feel his heat suffusing her body like a welcome balm.
It was tempting to sigh with pleasure, to tilt her head back, and to wish for a kiss. But not when there was a chance he’d caused the misery she endured, the helplessness losing her job had stirred. So she stood up tall, as rigidly as she could manage, pretending a wall existed between them, a wall through which he was not permitted to pass.
As if sensing her standoffishness, he pushed back onto his heels, allowing more space to come between them. “The truth is, the business is struggling. Mr. Roth suggested cutting costs by relieving a few employees of their positions. I had no idea you would be among them, and indeed, I am sorry to hear you are.”
She took a moment to study his features, a moment in which to gauge if he was being sincere. Deciding he was, she allowed herself to relax as much as one could relax when one had lost one’s livelihood and faced a man who did curious things to one’s body. So she said the first thing that came to mind. “I think the water is boiling.” Something safe and mundane.
Without hesitation, he grabbed the kettle and poured the steaming water through the strainer in the teapot. “I will have him discharged without reference.”
She nodded, even though he wouldn’t see. “You know, the trouble was never with the employees. In fact, I think letting them go will prove to be a mistake.”
“How so?” He began tidying away a few things, extinguished the fire, and picked up the tray.
Josephine opened the door and led the way through to the parlor. She instantly groaned in response to the cold greeting them there. “I am sorry,” she said, cringing at her ineptness at playing hostess. “I was so upset when I got home, I forgot to start the fire, and then you arrived and—”
“Do not trouble yourself.” He set the tray down on the table and went to select one of the two remaining logs, allowing her to place the cups and saucers on the table and pour the tea.
“You must not forget I worked in accounting. I saw the hotel books. And it is my belief the financial problem stems from increasingly inferior quality. I can tell you, for instance, the cost of ingredients being purchased for the kitchen decreased by more than thirty percent in the past year. Now, I don’t know much about the price of duck, but I do not expect it to cost the same as a chicken.”
Crouched before the fireplace, the duke turned to stare at her. “Mr. Roth served mediocre food to our guests and passed it off as high-class cuisine?”
Josephine nodded. “I believe so. How long has it been since you ate in the restaurant or checked on the bedrooms?”
He blinked. “I have not done so since the place opened. Mr. Roth appeared capable enough, and I had other matters to attend to–my estates, parliament, family matters.” Turning away, he muttered a curse while stoking the newly lit fire. When he finally stood, Josephine noted the slump of his shoulders and how his head hung while he stared down into the flames. “I should have been more involved.”
“It is not too late to start.”
