Dangerous in Diamonds - Madeline Hunter [5]
“I would like to meet with her today, since I am here.”
Irritation colored his words. So did a note of command, as if his preference was paramount. She decided that Mrs. Joyes would definitely not oblige his conceit.
“I know her very well, and she will not see you without an introduction. How inconvenient for you that she is a woman consumed by all that boring strictness.”
“Inconvenient for us both. Mine is not a social call. I have come about the Duke of Becksbridge’s estate.”
Relief replaced irritation. She instantly looked more favorably on this visitor. No wonder there had been no letter. She was close enough to London for a personal meeting to be held. And of course this man would be curious about the property, if he had a hand in executing the duke’s will.
“Ah . . . under those circumstances, perhaps Mrs. Joyes can be convinced to receive you.”
“It would be in her interest to do so. If we must stand on ceremony, I will go out the portal, to the front door, and present myself. Otherwise, perhaps you might go in and inform her of my presence in the garden.”
“Neither will be necessary.” She tried what she hoped was a conciliatory smile. “As it happens, I am Mrs. Joyes.”
He gave her a good examination, from crown to toe. “Are you indeed.”
“Forgive my small deception. For all I knew you might have been a dangerous trespasser. In fact, another member of our household has had a pistol trained on you, just in case.”
“Ah, yes, the pistol. I have heard about the pistol from our mutual friends.” He examined the house, probably looking for a gun barrel at a window. “It was a good thing that I did not succumb to my initial impulse to drag you into this arbor and kiss you, then.”
She laughed politely at his inappropriate little joke. His vague smile suggested she found more humor in the comment than intended.
“Are you the executor? A lawyer? When I did not hear anything after the funeral, I feared—”
“I am no lawyer, and old Becksbridge would not dare make me his executor. Heaven forbid he should have saddled me with that burden too.”
He finally stepped out of the arbor, into the sunlight. The perfection of those boots became visible again, and also that of his frock coat and other garments, and the artistic cut of his tousled hair. Brown eyes, with golden lights that flickered like devilish fire, surveyed her from head to toe once more. A touch of gold streaked through his brown hair too.
He was a handsome man, that was certain, made more compelling by a sartorial style that appeared both costly and effortless. A lithe strength marked his posture. He made an impressive figure, in part by appearing utterly indifferent to whether he did or not.
She had no idea who their common friends might be, but he did appear vaguely familiar, as if she had seen him once from a distance at least. She searched her mind, trying to place the memory that nibbled at her. Not so much his face pricked her recollection—more the way he carried himself and his air of arrogance and bored indifference that probably could be felt from the other side of the garden.
“I had no idea Mrs. Joyes was so young,” he said, coming toward her on the path, bemused and curious. “I pictured a woman of more mature years, with a reformer’s severe expression.”
“I am mature enough and can be severe when warranted.”
“I am sure you can be.” He flashed a smile. A rather familiar one. Almost flirtatious. He acted as if they shared a special secret. She could not imagine what he thought that secret might be.
Slowly, languidly, as if he had all day for the tour, he strolled around her as if she were a statue set amid the flowers for viewing.
She wished she could pretend that she did not know what he was thinking as he took his little circular turn. Unfortunately, it flowed through the air. She did not turn to keep an eye on him, but she did not have to. She felt his every step and change in location, and his gaze all but burned through her clothing.
“If you are not a lawyer involved with the estate, just whom am I addressing,