Page 8 of One Dangerous Desire
When Rex made no move to return to his chair, the duke pointed again.
“Please, sir, take a seat. Enough of love and ladies. Let us sit and discuss this hotel notion of yours.”
Rex resumed his chair before the duke’s wide oak desk. He sat forward, arms braced on his thighs, suddenly humming with the same nervous energy the duke exuded. He thought the man might finally take a seat too, but Ashworth merely moved his enormous high-backed desk chair aside and stood in front of the plans Rex had presented. He traced one of those bony fingers along the lines of the blueprint, and Rex counted that a good sign. He was interested. Rex could read it in the way he leaned in, unable to resist touching, the way his gaze danced over every inch of the plans.
“Electricity throughout?”
“For lighting, heating, and every purpose that requires power.”
“And the numbers?”
Rex retrieved a sheet of paper from his waistcoat pocket and laid it out before the duke. He was asking for a large sum. An amount most men would call a fortune. But between the revenues of the hotel and money from his other investments, he presented Ashworth with an offer to repay his money at a reasonable interest rate within two years.
“Quite ambitious.” Ashworth folded himself into his chair and lifted a hand to stroke his neatly trimmed beard. After studying the sheet of numbers only a moment, he pushed it toward Rex.
Reaching out, Rex slapped a hand on the paper and nudged it back toward the duke. “I can provide details of my other investments and the results they’ve produced.” He could already taste his first meal at the Pinnacle, imagine the first night in his own bed. He wouldn’t leave the man’s study without his consent to fund the project.
“I would like to see reports on your other investments. I’d like more details too. About you, Mr. Leighton.”
Rex clenched a fist and pressed it into the palm of his other hand. This was what Sullivan had warned him about. Ashworth’s insistence on befriending those with whom he invested. He’d prepared himself for the man’s inquiries, yet the prospect of conversing about himself needled his nerves. After spending so many years revealing as little as possible to others, he could never feel at ease being open with the facts of his life.
“I have spent the last six years building up my interests in railroads, shipping, and manufacturing.” The scant explanation conveyed facts, but detailed none of his struggle. He’d nearly gone hungry nudging the pittance he’d brought from New York into a modest profit through risky investments. Angling one shoulder forward as he settled into his chair, Rex lifted his gaze to look directly at the duke. “Before that, I resided in New York City.” More sparse words, pointing back to everything he preferred to forget.
“Tell me about New York City.”
Rex’s mouth went dry. Every memory of New York was tainted and dark. Every memory but the ones of May Sedgwick, and those carried a unique bite of their own.
“When I left six years ago . . . ” His throat felt raw, his voice stony and rough. Not at all the cool confidence he’d intended to show the Duke of Ashworth. “It was a thriving city, filled to the brim, always moving, never sleeping.”
“I imagine it’s all that and more now.” The duke was on his feet again. Apparently five minutes in a chair was his limit. He folded the long tails of his housecoat behind him and clasped his hands behind his back as he began pacing. “But what of your people, Mr. Leighton? Do you have family back in America?”
The man asked the question as if he was truly curious, not merely attempting to sniff out Rex’s commoner bloodlines.
“No family, Your Grace. London is quite to my liking. I have no plans to return to the States.” After his English mother had run off to America with his father, a footman who’d served her family’s estate, every member of the Leighton clan had turned their backs on her. As to the family of the man he’d come to think of more as sire than father, Rex knew nothing of them.
“Surely there must be someone. Some Leighton doddering around England. I believe I knew a Leighton once—”
“I’d prefer to be known by my achievements rather than a name, Your Grace.” Especially considering that since remaking himself in London he’d adopted his mother’s maiden name, discarding the surname of George Cross, the footman-turned-thief who’d abandoned his mother before Rex was born.
“Your name and your achievements will be forever intertwined, young man. And your children will carry your name forward.”
He couldn’t think about children. Children were for a future he hadn’t yet grasped. But he might if he worked hard enough, if he stayed the course and made wise choices, and it all began with the Pinnacle.
“Does investment in my hotel interest you at all, Your Grace?”
The older man stopped pacing and strode back behind his desk again, reaching a hand out to rest it along the edge of his chair.
“Impatience is a quality we share, Mr. Leighton. And I do admire your American bluntness. Quite enough to return the favor. Tell me, sir, are you planning to marry my daughter?”
Thiswas the question for which he had a ready answer. He couldn’t promise marriage to Lady Emily on a day’s acquaintance. Never mind that she was a friend of the woman he’d spent six years trying to forget. He’d denied himself a good deal to achieve his goals, but spending the rest of his days with May Sedgwick just out of reach was not a misery to which he could imagine subjecting himself.
“Your daughter is one of the cleverest young women I’ve encountered during my time in London.”
“However?” Ashworth drew out the word and punctuated it by opening one hooded eye wide, his squirrel-tail brow cresting high on his forehead.
“However, Lady Emily and I have only met on a single occasion. Marriage hasn’t yet crossed my mind.” His voice grew rough again as he lied. Apparently, he was losing his touch.
“Aha! A man who speaks sense.” Ashworth clutched his chest as if his heart gave him pain, then threw back his head and let out an ear-piercing chortle. When he looked at Rex again, his eyes crinkled in amusement. “You have no idea what a relief it is to hear the lack of false enthusiasm in your tone, Mr. Leighton. Not that I do not think my Emily endowed with every feminine virtue. I do. But I won’t have any man marry her as a pawn.” Ashworth waved his long hand in the air between them. “What goes on here. Whatever business we conduct. Let us keep it separate from your friendship with my daughter. I wouldn’t wish one to be in any way dependent on the other.”
