He gentled his tone. “I want to examine the work a bit more closely. Then I’ll put together a schedule for what will be done and when and at what potential cost. Afterward I can present it back to you and to the duke, if the expenses require his approval.”
Her lips parted. “Oh.” She shook her head as she held out the plans with hesitance. “I-I suppose that makes sense. I wouldn’t have thought of such a thing.”
He took the papers with a smile. “There’s no need for you to do so. That’s why your brother asked me to help. I suppose this project is also a way for me to prove my mettle. To him and, I hope, to you.”
She stared at him, eyes widening a fraction. “To me? Why would you wish to prove yourself to me?”
“Because,” he said, inching forward a fraction, even though he didn’t make a move to touch her. She still sucked in a breath regardless. “I don’t like to see you look at me as if I’m a potential enemy, Elizabeth. If all goes well, I may serve under your brother for a long time. I don’t want you to…fear me.”
She hesitated, then her lashes lowered and she stared at her clenched hands. “I-I’m not afraid of you.”
She said it. She lied. He knew that as well as she did. But he didn’t push. “Well, then whatever negative emotion you associate with me, how does that suit? I want you to see me as a…a friend. Someone you can count on if you need something done. If I can prove that to you by doing your bidding in the garden, then it will be worth it.” He held out a hand. “Will you allow me to try?”
She stared at his outstretched fingers, then slowly extended her own hand to shake. When they touched, there was almost an electric sizzle in the air that Morgan had not expected. A heat that flushed up his hand, his arm, filed into his blood, pumped into every nerve ending. He lived with that touch.
And that was a terrifying notion. He swiftly released her hand, clenching his hands together as he forced a smile for her. “Very good. Now I’ll leave you and get to work on this. Good day, my lady.”
“G-Good day,” she whispered, her voice almost not carrying as he turned and walked away from her. This woman, this slip of a woman who wasn’t even his type, was turning his world on its head.
And he wasn’t sure if he should like her for that fact. Or avoid her like a plague that would ultimately destroy him. But he’d have to decide soon enough. And he feared once he did, there would be no turning back.
Chapter 7
Lizzie sat at her desk in her study, a half-written letter to an old friend there, waiting for her. In truth, she was having a hard time composing what to say. She wanted to tell her friend about what was going on in her life and yet…
The truth of that wasn’t something she felt she could fully put in words. She wasn’t sure how to explain it to herself, let alone another person. Not unless she wished to fully expose herself, that was.
It had been three days since her meeting with Morgan in the garden. Three days and she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. About that dimple hidden behind those soft whiskers. About the way he looked at her, focused on her, always reading her with what seemed like no effort whatsoever. She couldn’t stop thinking of the way he’d asked her about Persephone and picturing him as a handsome Hades reaching up to her from the underworld. Beckoning her to darkness she feared…and craved.
Not to mention it had also been two nights and she had dreamed of the dratted man on each one. Benign dreams where they were walking through the endless garden. And less benign ones where his arms came around her, his lips lowered to hers, his hands clenched against her skin.
She jerked her head up to break the thoughts and sighed. It was very annoying to feel this way when she knew full well the consequences of such wicked desires. She could tell herself it was just because he was a new person in her life, handsome and compelling and born to draw women to him like bees to honey.
She could tell herself her thoughts were so desperate because she was surrounded by loving couples who often didn’t realize doors were cracked or that sounds carried in the hallways. Knowing how much they each loved and desired each other was enough to put strange thoughts into anyone’s heads and dreams.
Yes, Lizzie could tell herself all those very rational things. And none of them rang true. None of them explained her emotions quite as well as that she simply had a weakness for wicked men. That Morgan Banfield had come into her life to prove to her that she could not be trusted, no matter how much time had passed since her last fall from grace.
She sighed as she pushed her unfinished letter aside. Only that didn’t help clear her mind, for under the sheet was another reminder of Morgan. A note she’d received from him that morning.
Because, despite how wicked she knew him to be, despite the fact that rakes and libertines were known to be lazy layabouts, the man had been working, just as he’d vowed, on the garden. He was doing things for Hugh, but each morning he sent her a missive with a list of things to do, an order in which they would be done, and a price sheet for materials. He had neat, even handwriting. Occasionally he drew a sketch and asked if it pleased her.
All of them pleased her. So she signed off on those things or made notes on changes and sent them back.
Work hadn’t begun in the physical sense, but she could see that his strategic organizing would make everything flow smoothly and quickly once it did.
Once there was no garden to use as an excuse to hide here in Brighthollow, Lizzie had to assume she would be ferried back to London to continue the Season. Morgan would stay here to manage the estate, just as he had been hired to do. And that would be the end of all of it.
There was a light knock at her door and Lizzie jumped at the sound. She twisted in her chair. “Come in.”
Amelia did so, with a bright smile for Lizzie. “Good afternoon. I wanted to come speak to you about the particulars regarding the assembly ball tonight. Have you thought about what you’ll wear? I’ll pick something to complement your gown if you know.”
Lizzie pushed to her feet and shifted with discomfort. Amelia had been making little noises about the assembly gathering for days. Charlotte and Katherine had joined in, all of them loudly declaring what fun would be had, as if somehow Lizzie didn’t know about these things. As if they could change her heart by saying the same words enough times.
Only her heart had not been changed.
Amelia frowned when she didn’t answer right away. “You—you don’t want to go. You’ve been avoiding the subject since I first brought it up, and I hoped you would come around to it. But you don’t want to go.”
“I don’t,” Lizzie admitted. “You know how those things are. Everyone in the county will be there since you and Hugh are in residence and you’ll be bringing two additional ducal couples to the fray. They’ll push in and talk too much and ask for too many dances and it all seems…” She dipped her head. “It’s too much.”
“I know you don’t love these gatherings,” Amelia said carefully. “I know they are silly sometimes, and overheated and the punch is bad. But they are also a way to meet and thank Hugh’s people for their hard work and support.”
Lizzie folded her arms. “It isn’t as if I don’t make myself available. I visit the village regularly and call on a great many friends and tenants.”