to the drawings. “What is this, a stable?”
Landon nodded.
“You haven’t the land.”
“But I do at Holly Grove,” Landon replied, raising a finger. Moving to the other side, he explained the additions to the stable at Juliet’s home and the construction of a track. When he finished, he looked up to his friend’s nod.
“It would certainly keep the grounds much as they seem now,” Amos said.
“I thought so too, and it would also provide a steady income for the village.”
“Yes, Juliet should be pleased,” Landon said with a smile.
Amos’s lips pursed together. “Juliet.”
Landon paused and turned his gaze toward Black. “What? Did I say something wrong?”
“No, not wrong. Perhaps out of character.”
Landon’s hands relaxed and came to rest upon the top of his hips. “What do you mean?”
“Just, rarely have I heard of you speak in terms of what a woman might be pleased with,” Amos replied.
Saying nothing, Landon merely stared until Black shifted his gaze away.
“Mind if I have a drink?”
“Be my guest.” Landon gestured toward the decanters and kept his focus on the drawings before him.
Amos walked toward the sideboard, uncorking the crystal, he poured a small dram into an upturned glass. His hand stilled and he glanced back. “Do you care for one?”
“No,” Landon said. Turning from the table, he moved to the double French doors that lined the edge of the terrace that led to his mother’s flower garden. A perfusion of pinks, lavenders, and yellows sprouted from her handiwork. His ears picked up Black’s boot steps and he steadied himself. “So,” he began seizing the upper hand. “I am now out of character?”
“Did you not listen to your own words?” Black asked.
“I said something to the fact that Juliet will be pleased.”
“Precisely.”
Landon stole a glance and watched his lawyer bring the glass to his lips and consume the alcohol.
“I dare say, some of the finest scotch known to man.”
Landon’s mouth drew into a droll line. “Especially since its purchase was with my money and not yours.”
“Perks of the position,” Amos remarked, lifting the glass in salute.
Landon drew his arms to his chest crossing them as a guard to his heart. “You find it strange I wish my wife to be happy?”
“I find it odd that you wish to do anything to your wife other than to make sure the dynasty continues. As I recall, this was not a love match but a marriage of convenience.” Amos stepped back and regarded him shrewdly. “Or am I mistaken?”
“You are not. You know I am sworn to protect Juliet.”
“Yes, protect.”
Landon ground his teeth together as Amos walked away to take a seat on the settee. “Make yourself at home.”
Amos lifted a hand. “Come, sit, all teasing aside, and tell me how London’s most notorious rake enjoyed his first night of wedded bliss.”
He moved to the side chair and sat heavily, his shoulders rounded. “I slept alone, thank you.”
“Alone?”
“Have you cotton in your ears? Yes, alone.” Landon’s glared and struggled to keep his anger under control. “My wife was exhausted. It would have been foolish to push myself on her under those considerations.”
“How admirable.”
Landon’s chest puffed out. The air hissed as it moved from his lungs through his nostrils. “Do not pity me. Are you not married?”
“You know I am.”
“Then I would expect you to understand. My wife is young. She didn’t understand the implications of our marriage.” Even as he said the words, Landon found the lie left a regrettable taste of dissatisfaction on his lips. He would have to atone for his gaffe. All morning, he’d run ideas through his imagination trying to figure a way to gain access to her bed, all but for begging.
“Oh, she is that. My word, what better irony that might fuel poets and playwrights for centuries hence forth, London’s most eligible bachelor, a mere god among men, marries a beauty only to be
Landon nodded.
“You haven’t the land.”
“But I do at Holly Grove,” Landon replied, raising a finger. Moving to the other side, he explained the additions to the stable at Juliet’s home and the construction of a track. When he finished, he looked up to his friend’s nod.
“It would certainly keep the grounds much as they seem now,” Amos said.
“I thought so too, and it would also provide a steady income for the village.”
“Yes, Juliet should be pleased,” Landon said with a smile.
Amos’s lips pursed together. “Juliet.”
Landon paused and turned his gaze toward Black. “What? Did I say something wrong?”
“No, not wrong. Perhaps out of character.”
Landon’s hands relaxed and came to rest upon the top of his hips. “What do you mean?”
“Just, rarely have I heard of you speak in terms of what a woman might be pleased with,” Amos replied.
Saying nothing, Landon merely stared until Black shifted his gaze away.
“Mind if I have a drink?”
“Be my guest.” Landon gestured toward the decanters and kept his focus on the drawings before him.
Amos walked toward the sideboard, uncorking the crystal, he poured a small dram into an upturned glass. His hand stilled and he glanced back. “Do you care for one?”
“No,” Landon said. Turning from the table, he moved to the double French doors that lined the edge of the terrace that led to his mother’s flower garden. A perfusion of pinks, lavenders, and yellows sprouted from her handiwork. His ears picked up Black’s boot steps and he steadied himself. “So,” he began seizing the upper hand. “I am now out of character?”
“Did you not listen to your own words?” Black asked.
“I said something to the fact that Juliet will be pleased.”
“Precisely.”
Landon stole a glance and watched his lawyer bring the glass to his lips and consume the alcohol.
“I dare say, some of the finest scotch known to man.”
Landon’s mouth drew into a droll line. “Especially since its purchase was with my money and not yours.”
“Perks of the position,” Amos remarked, lifting the glass in salute.
Landon drew his arms to his chest crossing them as a guard to his heart. “You find it strange I wish my wife to be happy?”
“I find it odd that you wish to do anything to your wife other than to make sure the dynasty continues. As I recall, this was not a love match but a marriage of convenience.” Amos stepped back and regarded him shrewdly. “Or am I mistaken?”
“You are not. You know I am sworn to protect Juliet.”
“Yes, protect.”
Landon ground his teeth together as Amos walked away to take a seat on the settee. “Make yourself at home.”
Amos lifted a hand. “Come, sit, all teasing aside, and tell me how London’s most notorious rake enjoyed his first night of wedded bliss.”
He moved to the side chair and sat heavily, his shoulders rounded. “I slept alone, thank you.”
“Alone?”
“Have you cotton in your ears? Yes, alone.” Landon’s glared and struggled to keep his anger under control. “My wife was exhausted. It would have been foolish to push myself on her under those considerations.”
“How admirable.”
Landon’s chest puffed out. The air hissed as it moved from his lungs through his nostrils. “Do not pity me. Are you not married?”
“You know I am.”
“Then I would expect you to understand. My wife is young. She didn’t understand the implications of our marriage.” Even as he said the words, Landon found the lie left a regrettable taste of dissatisfaction on his lips. He would have to atone for his gaffe. All morning, he’d run ideas through his imagination trying to figure a way to gain access to her bed, all but for begging.
“Oh, she is that. My word, what better irony that might fuel poets and playwrights for centuries hence forth, London’s most eligible bachelor, a mere god among men, marries a beauty only to be
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