Page 53 of The Truth Serum
That was the question that ate at him. She’d been enthusiastic, wildly so. But then why the tears? What had he done wrong?
He was still pondering this when Mr. Vawdrey brought him the tea service. Becca had not arrived, as far as he could tell, so he would let it sit. But then Anthony Newman surprised him by sitting down for tea. The man was the publisher for Minerva Press, and he was the reason Nate had avoided the library of late.
“Good morning, my lord!” Mr. Newman said, his entire demeanor much too enthusiastic for this time of day. “I must say, I was excited to hear you’d come in this morning. Excited and so very pleased.”
Nate winced at his overly loud tone. “I do apologize, sir, I cannot make you happy this morning.”
The man’s face fell even as he served them both their tea. “I had expected you a week or more ago.”
“Yes, well, I’m afraid I’ve run into some difficulty.”
Mr. Newman’s gaze landed heavily on Nate’s face, no doubt seeing the dark circles under his eyes. “A man cannot work while inebriated,” he said stiffly.
“Neither can he work when knocked unconscious or half-drowned by thieves.”
The man’s eyes widened. “What?”
Nate sighed. Clearly, the man did not run in elite circles where the tale of his attack was common knowledge. But rather than argue, he sipped his tea. Might as well drink it before it got cold. “I am behind schedule, not dead. Never fear.”
“I wasn’t afraid,” Mr. Newman rushed to say. “Of course, your health is of utmost concern, but—”
“But I have made promises. I’m aware.”
“It’s more than a promise, my lord. It’s a contract between you and Minerva Press.”
Nate winced. “I know…” His voice trailed away. He needed to soothe this particular aspect of his life, but he’d just spotted Becca. She was headed this way, and he didn’t want to waste a moment with her. So he pushed to his feet. “I have not forgotten you, sir. But at the moment, I’m afraid I have another commitment.”
The man rose to his feet. Slowly. “Perhaps there is some way I could assist you. I have hired an additional clerk—”
“No, Mr. Newman. I’m quite capable of managing myself. Thank you.” It was a dismissal, clear as day. But the man would not take it.
“Perhaps I can offer an incentive. What do you say to an advertisement in the paper?”
“I say that you have one planned already. Now if you wouldn’t mind—”
“Lord Nathaniel, may I be blunt?”
He wanted to say, no. He wanted to be rid of the man, but in this, he was the one in the wrong. He’d made a promise that he hadn’t kept…yet. And so, Nate nodded as regally as he could manage. “What is it?”
“You are three weeks late. This strains the boundaries of our contract. Now, of course, if you have been injured, then I understand the delay. But if—”
Bloody hell! He’d gotten beaten to within an inch of his life, and now he had to prove it to this man? “I honor my commitments!” he bellowed at the man. Damn it, he was too tired for this. And worse, Becca was right there. She’d heard every word and would no doubt assume the worst. So he moderated his tone. “You are making things worse for both of us,” he finally said.
At last, the man looked around and saw Becca standing there, her expression completely locked down. A statue had more outward feeling.
“Ah, I see you have a visitor,” Mr. Newman said. “Perhaps I should bring more tea.”
“That would be most welcome,” Nate said.
Mr. Newman bowed. He did not, however, pick up the tea service. He snapped his fingers at Mr. Vawdrey who had been loitering nearby. The man rushed forward and grabbed the tea service before backing away. Meanwhile, Mr. Newman couldn’t resist one last jab.
“Mine is a noble profession, sir. I print tales that people enjoy.” He arched his brows at Nate. “That is noble, my lord. There is nothing wrong with printing joy.”
No, there wasn’t. And indeed, if not for his work with Mr. Newman, Nate might have gone mad several years earlier. It had been the only way to deal with the pressures of his life. TheMinerva Press was his best escape, but he wanted to be the one to choose who knew about it and who did not.
He looked hard at the man. “You think I am wasting my time, sir. You think I have lost days and weeks to idle pleasure. I assure you, I have not.”
Mr. Newman bowed. “Of course not, my lord.” He said the words, but Nate heard doubt in his tone. Too bad. The man could not print words that were not written. And so, in this, Nate had the upper hand. At least for the moment.
