The Problem with Seduction - By Emma Locke Page 0,93
held its own appeal.”
Con’s relief was evident. “You believe it will pay out?”
“I certainly hope so. It was an easy decision, especially now that it’s so close to completion. There was a flood a few days ago, trouble with the new lock or some such, but it seems to be under control now. Not like several years ago, when few investors had the sense to bail out before they were ruined.”
Con’s bark of laughter startled Elizabeth. “They didn’t bother to tell us the direness of it until it was too late. Engineers are like politicians that way.”
“Is that why you’re here, then? To see it with your own eyes?”
Con cast Elizabeth guilty look. He’d dragged his feet coming here, but clearly he wasn’t about to admit as much to Trestin. “If it’s as far along as they say,” Con answered, “I’ll invest more money. If it looks to be a sham, I’ll pull out. But I won’t be taken for a fool again. I’m getting too old for that.”
Trestin leaned back as the footmen began clearing bowls. “I’ll ride with you to the site tomorrow and show you around. While I can’t claim to be an expert in canal-building, I’ve done a bit of ditch-digging. This looks to be a very fine ditch.”
Chapter Seventeen
CON COULD THINK OF any number of things he’d rather do than set himself up for a day alone with Lord Trestin. To make matters worse, the previous night he’d been unable to sneak into Elizabeth’s room. Oh, he’d managed to pad to her door in his stockings without much fuss, but she’d opened it looking harried and distracted. He’d soon learned Oliver had taken offense with the large, hollow-sounding room that was the nursery and demanded to be cuddled in his mother’s bed instead, communicating the only way a four-month-old boy knew: by howling incessantly until he had his way.
So Con had tiptoed back to his room and spent the night wrestling with the fears Trestin had so helpfully unearthed. He was dependent on Elizabeth. He relied on her largesse, and her advice. He needed her if he was to see Oliver, who he was coming to think of as his own—hearing the boy’s sad little sobs cemented it. But he had no real claim, other than the lie. He had no home to offer her, nothing to give her but his physical presence. He couldn’t even promise to help her keep her child, for if her father followed through on his threat to summon them to court, he had no proof of his paternity.
All he had was a yearning desire to be the man who protected her, not just from opportunists but from day-to-day hardships. He wanted to truly be Oliver’s father, not just in the evenings, or when it was convenient to Elizabeth.
He ought to be able to give her a home, instead of the cheap rooms she currently leased, and ensure her happiness was never threatened again.
But he had nothing but his yearning. That and a deep, unwavering fear that he could never give her even half of what she deserved.
He skipped breakfast the next morning so he could avoid Lady Trestin’s probing gaze. He avoided Elizabeth’s room and went straight down the stair. Trestin stood ready in the foyer, hat in hand, gloves pulled tight. Con’s own coat was cut smartly and his gloves fit like a second skin. Yet he felt gauche and disordered next to Trestin.
It amazed him that Montborne, who went about his entire life willy-nilly, had suffered Trestin’s confidence-smashing composure at all.
“I’ve had a horse saddled from my stables,” Trestin said. “I don’t suppose you meant to ride one of the ones you brought.”
They were Elizabeth’s horses. Con had no idea if either of them were fit for riding. He donned his hat and shrugged as if he didn’t feel slapped across his cheek. “I didn’t have a plan.”
He followed Trestin out to the steps the moment a footman drew the door open. Two horses stood seemingly at attention at the bottom of the granite staircase. Con was no judge of horseflesh, but they looked to be healthy and sturdy and drab. Nothing like Elizabeth’s shiny, sleek grays. Despite feeling like a failure for his own lack of a stable, pride welled in him at the evidence of her accomplishment.
“Good.” Trestin approached the larger of the two horses and reached for the flat pommel. “It’s a long ride out, and the land is rocky. I much prefer you