Page 3 of The Trouble with Tigers
Chuckling, he crossed the room to meet the earl halfway, where he allowed himself to be thoroughly embraced. “There wasn’t time, unless you wanted me to go to my apartments first.”
“Of course not. This is your home. Let me look at you.” His grandfather grasped his shoulders and leaned back to scrutinize him. “Hair’s a bit too long. Face too tanned. But otherwise seemingly none the worse for wear. Brandy?”
“Please.”
“Sit, sit, I’ll get it,” he said, already heading for the credenza.
Zeke made his way to the seating area the earl favored. Only then did he realize the scamp with whom his grandfather had been playing chess had disappeared.
His brows knitted with disapproval. “Where’s this tiger I heard you’d employed? Don’t tell me he dashed out of here without even bothering to clean up the game.”
Zeke studied the board. “Not a bad strategist, eh? Clever check there.” He pointed to the boy’s well-placed queen.
“I’ll say. Squarely beaten again,” his grandfather said, his voice muted as he fished a decanter out of the cabinet.
Mission accomplished, he filled two snifters and returned with one in each hand. “Here you are.”
They clinked glasses and took their seats. Zeke’s was still warm from the absent servant’s behind. How had the lad sneaked past him? He must be more tired than he realized.
He shook his head, and swirled the amber liquid beneath his nose. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, enjoying the rich scent before taking a healthy swallow.
“Ah,” he said on a sigh and let his head loll back on the plush velvet cushion. “It’s good to be home. I say, you’re looking well.”
His grandfather preened a bit. “Thank you. But I can’t take all the credit. Kit’s regimen is paying off.”
“Kit?”
The earl brandished a sly grin. “My assistant. Companion. Helper.” He shrugged.
Zeke snorted. “A tiger who’s also an exercise prescriber? That’s a new one. You’re getting eccentric in your old age.”
“Old age? Speak for yourself. And it’s not eccentric to enjoy having someone with whom to share the long days of summer.”
Zeke shifted in his seat, a stab of conscience pricking him. He met his grandfather’s eyes, expecting to see accusation in theirfaded blue depths, but found none. It didn’t banish the sting of guilt, however.
“What of Caden? Tell me he’s in London.”
The earl arched his brows. “Your brother? Of course not. It’s summer. He’s currently at a house party in Marlboro.”
Zeke frowned. He’d hoped to spend time with his younger brother before he sailed again. Too, he liked to think he kept an eye on their grandfather in Zeke’s stead.
“Tell me about this African diamond mine. Was it what you expected?”
Zeke rubbed his palms together. “And then some, my lord. Kimberley is already paying dividends.”
“Loaded with diamonds, is it?”
“It is. As usual, my biggest problem is finding a reliable foreman. There’s more than enough willing and able labor to do the digging. Staying to oversee the operations—and thereby ensure our profits didn’t walk off the site, was the main reason my stay lasted so long.
"But my time paid off. Matter of fact.” Zeke fished in his waistcoat pocket. “I brought back a sample, freshly cut and polished.”
He loosed the velvet pouch and shook the contents onto his palm, not bothering to hide his pride in the stone.
The earl leaned forward in his chair. “Magnificent. May I?”
“Please.”
The earl took the diamond between his thumb and pointer finger and whistled low. “How many carats?”
