An Unwilling Conquest (Regencies 7) - Page 77

“You going for a drive?”

“Yes.” Harry’s expression turned grim. “In the Park.”

Fergus opened his aunt’s door to him fifteen minutes later. Harry handed him his gloves and shrugged off his greatcoat. “I assume my aunt is resting?”

“Indeed, sir. She’s been laid down this hour and past.”

“I won’t disturb her—it’s Mrs Babbacombe I wish to see.”

“Ah.” Fergus blinked, his expression blanking. “I fear Mrs Babbacombe is engaged, sir.”

Harry slowly turned his head until his gaze rested on Fergus’s impassive countenance. “Indeed?”

He waited; Fergus, to his relief, deigned to answer his unvoiced question without insisting on an embarrassing prompt.

“She’s in the back parlour—her office—with a Mr Mabberly. A well-spoken young gentleman—he’s her agent, I understand.”

“I see.” Harry hesitated, then, quite sure Fergus understood only too well, dismissed him with a nod. “No need to announce me.” With that, he mounted the stairs, reining in his impatience enough to make the ascent at least appear idle. But when he gained the upper corridor, his strides lengthened. He paused with his hand on the parlour doorknob; he could hear muted voices within.

His expression distinctly hard, he opened the door.

Lucinda was seated on the chaise, an open ledger on her lap. She looked up—and broke off in mid-sentence to stare at him.

A youngish gentleman, precise and soberly dressed, was hovering by her shoulder, leaning over to look at the figures to which she was pointing.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Lucinda said, shaking her wits into order.

“Good afternoon,” Harry replied.

“Indeed.” Lucinda’s glance held a

definite warning. “I believe I’ve mentioned Mr Mabberly to you—he’s my agent. He assists me with the inns. Mr Mabberly—Mr Lester.”

Mr Mabberly somewhat hesitantly put out his hand. Harry regarded it for an instant, then shook it briefly. And immediately turned to Lucinda. “Will you be long?”

Lucinda looked him in the eye. “At least another half-hour.”

Mr Mabberly shifted, casting a nervous glance from Lucinda to Harry and back again. “Er…perhaps—”

“We have yet to do the Edinburgh accounts,” Lucinda declared, shutting the heavy ledger and lifting it from her lap. Mr Mabberly hastened to relieve her of it. “It’s that book there—the third one.” As Mr Mabberly hurried across the room to retrieve the required tome, Lucinda raised limpid eyes to Harry’s face. “Perhaps, Mr Lester—”

“I’ll wait.” Harry turned, walked two paces to the nearest chair, and sat down.

Lucinda watched him impassively—she didn’t dare smile. Then Anthony Mabberly was back and she turned her attention to her three Edinburgh inns.

As Lucinda checked figures and tallies and rates, comparing the present quarter with the last and that of the year before, Harry studied Mr Mabberly. Within five minutes, he had seen enough to reassure him; Mr Mabberly might regard his employer as something of a goddess, but Harry was left with the distinct impression that his admiration was occasioned more by her business acumen than by her person. Indeed, inside of ten minutes, he was ready to swear that Mr Mabberly’s regard was entirely intellectual.

Relaxing, Harry stretched out his legs—and allowed his gaze to settle on his principal concern.

Lucinda sensed the easing of his tension—not a difficult feat as it had reached her in waves—with a measure of relief. If he refused to accept she would need to deal with such as Anthony Mabberly, that regardless of all else she had a business to run, then they would face serious hurdles all too soon. But all appeared serene. While waiting for Mr Mabberly to fetch the last ledger, she glanced at Harry to find him regarding her with nothing more unnerving than very definite boredom in his eyes.

He lifted a brow at her but offered no word.

Lucinda turned back to her work—and quickly completed it.

Mr Mabberly did not dally but neither did he run. He very correctly took his leave of Lucinda, then bowed punctiliously to Harry before departing, promising to carry out Lucinda’s commissions and report as usual the next week.

“Humph!” Harry remained standing, watching the door close behind Mabberly.

Tags: Stephanie Laurens Regencies Historical
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