slid the letters into an inner pocket of his coat. Using the back of his forefinger, he caressed the line of her jaw. “That was not a lack of interest you witnessed.”
The color in her cheeks deepened, and her uneven breaths peppered his wrist. “What was it, then?”
“Pride.” A sin in which he had an overabundance.
“Pride?”
He removed his hand. “Yes.” The admission was not an easy one, nor was his motive for revealing his secret. “I did not think I needed your help. However, my tenants have shown me the error in my logic.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Everyone I spoke to yesterday was rather content to continue working with you.”
She frowned. “You must be mistaken.”
“I am not.” He canted his head to the side. “I’m interested in learning why you think so, though.”
“It’s of no importance.” She waved his comment aside. “You would have me act as your steward?”
“Only until I hire a replacement,” he said. “If you are willing, I could use your help in creating a schedule of repairs.”
Her eyes brightened at the suggestion, and Sebastian was struck again by her conventional beauty. Beauty that became less common every time he spoke to her.
“Of course,” she said. “But what of Grayson?”
“He has offered his assistance, should you need it.”
“You do not wish him to take on the responsibility?”
“No,” he said. “I already gave Grayson the short list of repairs you provided. He’s content to assist rather than direct.”
She considered him for a moment. “You appear quite capable of organizing the tenants’ complaints yourself.”
“Capable, yes. Willing, no.” His callous answer caused her eyes to narrow. “I have other issues requiring my attention while in Showbury.”
Her gaze dulled, and Sebastian wondered at its source.
“When might you begin preparing a schedule?” he asked.
“I’ll start on it tonight.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes, my lord,” she said. “The less time I spend on the schedule, the faster the repairs can commence.”
Again, her thoughtfulness had a warming effect on his starving emotions. Gratitude manifested into a ball of heat; heat spiraled into desire. Of its own accord, his voice dropped. “Are you an early riser, Mrs. Ashcroft?”
Her feminine instincts could not miss the latent need underlining his words. Instead of retreating, she met his challenge. Her gaze dipped to his lips. “Generally, my lord.”
An image of her lithe body, aching for release and tangled in his sheets, flashed before his eyes, sharp and clear. His cock hardened, pulsed with near painful intensity.
A whoop of girlish laughter outside penetrated the intimate confines of the library. Familiar reality iced his heated blood. His spine straightened. “I’ll send my carriage around to collect you at nine, then. You can show me what you have over breakfast.”
Her perceptive gaze flicked to the window, to where her daughter chased something too small to be seen from this distance. Sebastian watched the widow’s cautious enthusiasm for her new project leech away. The upturned crinkles around her eyes fell into joyless slants and her lips thinned into a line of resignation.
“No need to bother your staff, sir. As I mentioned before, my horse knows the way, as do my feet.”
“Very well.” He bowed a farewell. “If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Ashcroft? I really must be going.”
“Yes, of course.”
She guided him through the house, out the front door, and then stopped to await his approaching carriage. A heavy silence hovered between them as they watched his restless team of horses advance. The black geldings tossed back their sleek heads and dug their massive hooves into the ground until his driver Miggs drew them to a halt a short distance away.
Sebastian had an unnerving need to throw back his own head to release the tension thrumming through his body.
“Thank you again for seeing to my daughter’s welfare,” she said. “Sophie will be retelling the tale of her rescue to the servants for days. I would not have been as successful in keeping her secret.” She glanced up at him, revealing a feminine vulnerability few men could ignore.
As it happened, he was one of the few.
He hadn’t earned a reputation as a cold bastard for no reason. The brutal slaying of his mentor over a decade ago served as a constant reminder of how one’s enemies will use every tool at their disposal to get what they want. Even murdering a man’s wife. And torturing a spymaster’s ward.
“Excuse me, my lord?” A footman appeared at his side, holding out Sebastian’s hat and gloves. He welcomed the distraction and accepted the servant’s offering.