Home > Earl of Tempest (Regency Cocky Gents #4)(4)

Earl of Tempest (Regency Cocky Gents #4)(4)
Author: Annabelle Anders

“I’m afraid the decision isn’t mine to make.” He continued staring at her, unsmiling.

“But if you are involved, you’ll have no choice but to work with me, perhaps daily at times. And quite possibly my brothers as well. I thought you never wanted to see us Cockfields again.”

“Some things are worth the trouble.” He pushed away from the wall.

“You mean this other project Lord Baxter mentioned?”

His mouth remained set and hard. “Yes.”

Was that all she was to him now? Trouble?

Lydia rolled her lips together, wanting to ask what he’d been doing these past four months, wanting to breach this gulf between them. But also stinging from the animosity rolling off of him.

He’d once welcomed her questions. He’d once allowed her to comfort him. “How is your mother? Is she here in London?” she asked instead.

Pain flashed across his face. She only recognized it because she’d seen it so many times in the past.

“She is here but she is… recovering. She had apoplexy on boxing day.” His voice sounded unemotional and flat.

Lydia’s hand flew up to her chest. “I am so sorry. I would have visited her if—”

“She’s not taking visitors.” He refused to meet her gaze now, choosing instead to stare at the gaming tables. “Don’t come here again. This isn’t a place for ladies.”

“Oh.” That must mean he spent a good deal of his time here then. Did he flirt with the ladies when he gambled? “I didn’t know you were a member.”

“The club’s membership is private.” The ice in his voice slashed through to the core of her bones. The look in his eyes informed her that his personal life would be kept private as well.

From her.

She hugged her arms in front of her, rubbing the spot where he’d touched her elbow.

Very well. She refocused.

“If I’m going to finalize the purchase of the Tuesday Warehouse, I’ll need your answer soon, before the owner begins entertaining other offers.” If they were going to have to work together, she could at least move things along. Not because she didn’t want to know him again, but because he obviously didn’t want to know her.

If only she knew why!

“Your coat, My Lady.” Ben reappeared with the pea-green woolen cloak he’d taken earlier and, at the sound of a carriage outside, disappeared out the door. Holding the garment, she again wished she’d worn something prettier that day, and then immediately squashed the thought.

“Is shabby and ill-fitting the new style, then?” Jeremy asked, watching her struggle to find the openings to the sleeves. “Not your color at all.”

His behavior was not only boorish but outright rude!

“We dress this way for the docks. I wouldn’t normally—" The coat slipped away from her for the third time, and she all but growled. “Have you lost all sense of propriety? A little assistance would be appreciated!” It was his fault, of course, for making her feel so clumsy.

“What good is propriety?” He all but mocked the notion.

Lydia’s heart cracked. Was he so unhappy that he didn’t care about anything?

“You once thought it was something that mattered.” She tilted her head back in frustration, allowing the coat to hang to the floor, her left arm in the sleeve, her right arm free.

“I once thought a good many things mattered.” Despite his words, he reached out and lifted her coat for her anyway.

Even through her coat and clothing, his touch affected her. Concentrating on her buttons, she took a step away from him and tried to recenter herself again.

“Why an orphanage, Lydia?” he asked. “Why not leave something so… impossible up to one of the dowagers? I’d think organizing charity events would be more suitable for you.”

“Charity events?” she huffed. “And opening an orphanage isn’t impossible!”

“For god’s sake. You’re not up to something like this. It’s a massive undertaking.”

“Someone has to do it. If not us, then who? I never realized before how many children were without homes. There are thousands of them! After meeting Clarissa last spring, and then volunteering at one of her orphanages over the holiday, I…”

But his brandy-colored eyes looked cold and bored. She glared. “You wouldn’t understand. Why did you ask if you didn’t care to know the answer?”

“Just making conversation. I thought you wanted me to respect your all-important proprieties.” His mouth twitched, as though he’d tasted something bitter. “Regardless, you’re too young to take this on, and when you get tired of it and the varnish on your pet project fades, you’ll likely do more harm than good.”

“I’m not the fickle one.” She lifted her chin. “Once I begin something, I follow through with it.”

“In that case, perhaps you ought to reconsider your decision now. Best to get out early rather than after you’re in over your head.”

Lydia stared. Was that why he’d ended things between the two of them? Had he wanted out before things went too far?

But it was not. His reason had had something to do with the death of his brother. The thought reminded her of all that he’d been through over the past year.

“Is she expected to recover—your mother, I mean?” Lady Tempest had always seemed rigid, demanding, and even less demonstrative than Jeremy, but with both his father and brother gone, she was all he had left.

“I don’t know.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Where the devil is that carriage?”

He was anxious to be away from her.

Lucky for both of them, Clarissa and Lord Baxter had begun descending the staircase and would soon be joining them. Lydia forced a smile. “If you’ll let me know what you’ve decided after you’ve had your engineers go in, I’d rather not wait any longer than necessary to have your answer.”

“Tomorrow. You and Lady Baxter are welcome to meet me at the warehouse at noon.”

Ben’s voice, and presumably the driver’s, carried inside as the other couple joined them.

“Is everything settled?” Clarissa asked, sliding her gloves on and glancing between the two of them curiously.

“As settled as it can be without knowing if termites have eroded the damn thing,” Jeremy answered grimly.

“Ladies are present, Tempest.” Clarissa’s handsome husband shot a scowl in Jeremy’s direction.

“Pardon me. The dashed thing.”

“Yes.” Lydia bit her lip. What could have possibly occurred for him to change his opinion of her family so drastically, to change his opinion of her? Perhaps meeting him here today was fate. “We should know more tomorrow. Are you ready, Clarissa?”

Jeremy was going to have to talk with her eventually. And this time, she wouldn’t give up until he gave her some answers.

Because, truth be told, nothing was settled.

 

 

“Has Lord Tempest always been so… cynical?” Clarissa asked as their driver pulled the carriage into the road. The two ladies were seated beside one another, facing front. Clarissa’s hair was not as pristine as it had been when they’d first arrived, and a few of her buttons were askew, but as the two of them were finished with their errands for the day, Lydia refrained from commenting.

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