Page 28 of House of Thorns
He answered easily enough. “Why, I came to fetch you, my dear. Are we not calling upon your cousin? My carriage awaits.”
If he thought she was going anywhere in a carriage with him, he was so very sadly mistaken. “I don’t recall agreeing to such a thing.” She pursed her lips and pointed to the roof. “Even if I had, I’ve a roof to repair.”
Nicholas cast an eye at the roof and then arched an amused brow. “I’ll send for a roofer.”
“I cannot afford one,” Olivia snorted impatiently. She took a step toward the kitchen for another tile.
He caught her quickly by the wrist. She held still. His fingers felt like fire.
“Did I ask you to pay?” he drawled.
Olivia shook her hand free, breaking the spell. “It’s my roof that needs fixing,” she said, setting her lips in a grim line.
This time, he stepped forward, easily blocking her way and she was forced to look into his face.
The expression in his eyes made her heart skip a beat, the expression of a man not even bothering to hide his interest. What had he said?Aye, a true man doesn’t let the lass that caught his interest slip through his fingers. He goes after her.
But then, it was such a very rakish thing to say.
Suddenly, Mrs. Lambert’s head popped out the back door, “Oliva, darling, there’s a man to see you in the shop.”
From her dour expression, it was clearly a man Olivia didn’t wish to see. “Who, Mrs. Lambert?”
“I wouldn’t know, lass,” the woman replied. “But he smells of the banking sort.”
Olivia frowned, and murmuring a distracted, “If you’ll excuse me,” ran through the back door and up the stairs. In less than three minutes, she’d changed into a dress and dragged a comb through her hair and dashed back down the stairs.
On the last step, she drew a deep breath and, adopting a sedate pace, headed for the front shop. Pausing behind the curtains, she peeked through the opening.
“Damnation,” she swore under her breath.
It was Mr. Pitt, the owner of the Theater Royale, standing by the counter with his pudgy fingers laced behind his back and his bald spot prominently on display—despite the straggly tufts of hair he’d combed sideways to hide his loss of hair.
Her mouth went dry. What brought him here? Her last payment wasn’t due for a few more weeks.
“Good morning, Mr. Pitt,” she forced a measure of warmth in her voice as she entered the room. “How pleasant to see you. How might I be of service?”
The man turned and gave a curt nod that sufficed as a greeting. “This letter,” he said, pulling a letter from his waistcoat. With a flick of his wrist, he slid the paper across the counter. “It’s a might concerning, it is. Read it, right quick.”
Wordlessly, Olivia picked up the letter and began to read.
Dear Mr. Pitt,
I am writing to inform you that I will no longer be singingAn Enchanted Summer Evening…
Olivia’s heart stood still. She gripped the letter tightly, unable to read anything more, other than the name scrawled at the bottom: Louisa.
“As you very well know, Miss Mackenzie,” Mr. Pitt’s voice droned in the background, “I foresaw this exact risk when I agreed to rent the Theatre Royale for this concert. Our contract states that all monies are due, in the event I deem it necessary to collect them—which I do so, now. Fetch the coin and right quick.” He paused and then his voice altered when he continued, “Unless, of course, you seek alternative arrangements—”
Olivia crushed the letter in her hand. “She’ll sing,” she interrupted fiercely. “I have contracts myself, Mr. Pitt. She will sing.”
He stared at her, his eyes turning cold. “Then show me these contracts, along with the remainder due. Otherwise, I will not hold the date.”
The remainder? She only had eighteen pounds in her keeping, not the twenty owed. Why was he being so obstinate? He couldn’t have a host of performers eager to perform in the summer months, but she knew better than to challenge the man.
“The remainder,” he repeated, his voice low. He didn’t mention ‘alternate payments’ again—verbally, anyway. He let the lift of his eyebrow and the quick glance at her breasts speak, instead.
Irritated, she snapped, “Very well. I will show you the contracts.”
