The Importance of Being Wicked. Victoria Alexander
important this year as it will celebrate the Queen’s Jubilee.” He lowered his voice in a confidential manner. “In addition, I have it on very good authority that Queen Victoria herself might wish to attend.”
“She would not find this at all amusing,” Lady Garret murmured.
“So you can see why haste is of the utmost importance. The other firms . . .” The moment the words left his mouth he realized his mistake.
Lady Garret stopped and turned toward him. “The other firms?”
There was nothing to be done for it then but to confess. “Yes, well, we did inquire as to the availability of other firms.”
“Oh?”
He chose his words with care although, at this point, it would make no difference. “Most were not able to even begin work until late in the summer.”
“I see.”
“Those that could were unwilling to take on a project of this nature, given the urgency we require.” So much for having the upper hand. It was never wise in business to let whomever one negotiated with know they were one’s only valid option. Obviously, his sense of discretion evaporated in the face of a sensible woman in sturdy shoes. “They could not guarantee the project would be completed—”
“Nor can I, Lord Stillwell,” she said firmly. “This is an enormous undertaking and the time in which you wish to have it accomplished is insufficient.” She snapped her notebook shut and stepped closer to him. He held out the satchel obediently. Good Lord, she had him trained! “We would certainly bring all our resources to bear, and do everything humanly possible, but I cannot—I will not—guarantee completion by late June.” She slipped the notebook and her pencil into the bag, took it and the tube from him and nodded. “Good day, my lord.” She started toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
“Back to London, of course,” she said over her shoulder. “It seems pointless to linger as we cannot accomplish what you require.”
“Wait.” The woman had him as surely as if she had reached between his legs and grabbed him firmly by his privates.
She paused in mid-step. He really didn’t have a choice and she knew it. “I shall double whatever you intend to charge for your services.”
“Not including the actual cost of construction, of course.”
He winced. “Of course.”
“Even without a guarantee?”
He could practically feel her hand tighten and he had the most ridiculous desire to shift his weight from foot to foot. He couldn’t see her face, but he was certain there was an all-too-smug smile curving her lips. He heaved a resigned sigh. “Yes, yes. Some progress is better than nothing, I suppose.”
She turned back to him, amusement twinkling in her eyes. “Are you quite certain, my lord?”
“At the moment, I’m not quite certain of my own name.” He stepped closer and once again relieved her of her bag and tube. “You’re very good at this sort of thing, aren’t you?”
“Am I?” She opened the satchel and retrieved her pencil and notebook. “I really can’t say. I’ve never done this sort of thing before.”
“You may rest assured, Lady Garret, you’re very good at it.” His voice was a bit sharper than he had intended, but there was nothing he liked less than losing. And while he wasn’t sure what game they had just played there was no doubt in his mind he had lost it. “I’ve agreed to pay you twice your usual commission without any guarantee as to completion, you have me carrying your things and . . .”
“And?”
“And . . . and I will not say another word unless you require it of me.”
“Excellent, then let us return to the task at hand.” She cast him the first genuine smile of the day. Her eyes were definitely brown with little specks of gold. Really quite lovely. She started off again, then looked back at him. “Oh, and I do thank you for the compliment.”
He shrugged. “As I said, you’re very good at this.”
“That too, but a few minutes ago you referred to either me or my feet as lovely.”
“Oh.” Damnation, he had forgotten about that. “Yes, of course.”
“Goodness, my lord.” She shook her head. “A compliment does tend to lose its effectiveness if it’s just something one says.”
“I shall keep that in mind.”
“My, you are a rogue, aren’t you?” she added under her breath.
Win stifled a frustrated sigh and resigned himself to following behind her and keeping his mouth shut. She had already made up her mind about him based on nothing more than gossip, a reputation he had very nearly grown out of and an insincere compliment. Even if, in that one moment when she’d been more amused than efficient, she had been far lovelier than he had first thought and he suspected her feet were lovely as well. Not that he planned to find out for himself. Not that he cared. Not about her smile or the color of her eyes and certainly not about her feet. Still, it did appear that this woman was about to become part of his life for the foreseeable future. He was putting his heritage in the hands of her Mr. Tempest after all.
For the next hour or so, he followed her like a well-trained puppy, answering her questions without additional comment. It was a pity, really; he was quite good at witty conversation. He considered it something of an art. Yet another of his charms that would be wasted on Lady Garret.
He did have to admit, she was much more intelligent than he would have expected. Not that he didn’t generally appreciate intelligence in a woman. Why, there was nothing he enjoyed more than verbal dueling with a clever woman. But that was different. Lady Garret’s questions were to the point and displayed knowledge of architecture and construction he would have found impressive even in a man. The woman might well know what she was doing, which made her all the more annoying and surprisingly a matter of some curiosity. There was obviously more to Lady Garret than first appeared.
At last he escorted her back to the carriage for the return ride to the train station. He handed her the satchel and tube—she never did reveal what was in the blasted thing. He assumed it contained the drawings and plans he had originally sent to her, but for all he knew she had simply lugged it along to appear more efficient. Not that she needed help in that respect.
“I have all I need for the moment, Lord Stillwell,” she said, accompanied again by her polite smile. “Tomorrow, there will be men here to take accurate measurements.”
“I sent you measurements and I assure you they are quite accurate.”
She raised a brow.
He forced a weak smile. “But of course you will want your own. What is it they say? Measure twice, cut once?”
“Quite right.” She nodded. “Once those are in hand, I daresay I will have detailed plans ready for your approval by next week.”
“You mean Mr. Tempest will have the plans ready?”
“Isn’t that what I said?”
He started to correct her, then thought better of it. “Yes, of course.”
She paused before climbing into the carriage and glanced past him for a final look at the manor. “You were right, my lord.”
“Was I?” He brightened. It would be nice to be right about something in this woman’s eyes. “About what?”
“You were extremely fortunate, all things considered.” Her voice softened. “It’s a grand house and it will be my—our—honor to bring it back to its former glory.”
“Thank you, Lady Garret,” he said simply, surprised at the pleasure her comment brought him. “We have a house