Tristan ignored the increasing intensity of the twitch in his neck and reluctantly bowed his head. “When will your father return, my lady?”
The dog whimpered. He had a lame leg he dragged behind as he hid behind his mistress.
“You’re scaring Pepper with your tone. Would you terribly mind being quieter?”
He glanced at the setter again. “He’s a gundog. He should be used to loud noises.”
That wasn’t what he meant to say. He blamed the lady’s attitude; it distracted him.
“He isn’t.” She scratched the dog’s head. “He was born with a bad leg. The breeder wanted to put him down because of it, so I took him home with me. Pepper has never been on a hunting trip and thank goodness for that. I personally think it’s barbaricin this day and age. Don’t you agree? Or are you one of those red jackets hunting a scared animal?”
What the hell was happening?
“As a matter of fact, I do not hunt. It’s a waste of time, and I do find it cruel.” He gripped his riding crop harder. Again, she’d distracted him. “My lady,” he gritted out, “when is your father going to be here?” He forced his tone down, lest she start with another piece of Pepper’s story.
Not at all bothered by his scowl, she walked around the desk. “Let me see.” She slowly flipped through the pages of a personal appointment calendar, as someone with all the time in the world. “I’m afraid you’re out of luck. Papa will return late this evening. He’ll probably dine at the Criterion with his friends.”
“I must talk to him immediately. Where can I find him?”
She drew her fine eyebrows together. Even Pepper frowned.
Her large hazel eyes seemed to ignite like brandy, and her autumn red gown enhanced them. “If you tell me the reason for your unexpected visit, I’m sure I can help.”
Fair enough. It would be quicker to tell her everything. “Your father again refused my very reasonable offer to buy his land in Easthollow for the extension of my London and West Marches Railway. I would like to know the reason why he rejected my offer.”
She twitched her mouth. “I can’t help. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Great.” He pressed his lips hard. “Now, would you please tell me where your father is?”
“I doubt he wants to be disturbed.”
“I don’t care about what your father wants.”
A hiss came from a corner. A large black cat was perched on the top of a shelf; its yellow eyes narrowed to slits.
“And now you’ve upset Kettle as well, poor boy.” She balled a fist on her hip.
Without taking his eyes off Tristan, Kettle jumped silently on the desk and settled himself into a sphinx-like pose.
She caressed Kettle’s head. “Black cats are awfully mistreated. Too many people think they bring bad luck and refuse to adopt them, but my Kettle?—”
“Honestly!” Tristan strode to the desk and grabbed the appointment calendar. At least he would know where Winchester was.
If meeting this woman was a test in patience, he was gloriously failing it.
“What are you doing?” She put a hand on the calendar, blocking him. “It’s called apersonalcalendar not because it’s a pretty name.”
“Tell me where your father is, and I’ll leave.”
She pulled the calendar towards her. “You’re welcome to come back tomorrow after arranging a proper appointment.”
He pulled the calendar towards him. “I don’t have time for games.”
“Neither have I. I have plenty to do with my animals.”
Tristan gave a yank to the calendar, but she didn’t admit defeat and pulled it back. He couldn’t believe he was having a childish tug-of-war with the daughter of an earl while under the scrutiny of a frightened dog and an upset cat.
“My lady.” He controlled his voice. “Time is money, and you’re wasting both.”
