Page 72 of Hearts of Briarwall

“If you believe that,” Violet muttered, “you do not know her a fig.”

“Spencer?” Lydia asked, struggling to look at him squarely. “You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

Spencer looked between Lydia and the other men, feeling trapped. But he affected the composure he knew was required. “It would be best to honor Sir Lawrence’s request of a private business discussion, don’t you think?”

“But—”

“Lydia,” Andrew said, his tone stopping her argument. “Be my partner in whist, would you? I think we can take Mrs. Piedmont and Violet together, hm?”

“Yes, Miss Wooding,” Mrs. Piedmont cried from the game table. “You must give us your best effort. I do love a challenge. Let Sir Lawrence and Mr. Hayes have their talk of shops. It’s nothing to concern yourself about.”

The woman smiled prettily, but Spencer could feel the waves of indignation coming from where Lydia stood.

Andrew held his sister’s elbow gently, coaxing as one would a wild horse. Then her dark eyes met Spencer’s, a dare to speak up for her.

Help him, her eyes were captivating.

“I shall make you a deal, Lydia,” he said.

“Yes?” She seemed to be searching his face for any sign of what he could not give her.

Andrew let up on her elbow, taking interest in Spencer’s next words.

“As I have things to discuss with this gentleman, so do you with your brother, correct?” He pointedly threw a look in Andrew’s direction.

She followed it and gave a nod in understanding. “Correct.”

“Then let us allow one another our discussions in their due course and all will be considered.”

Her lips pursed in a pleased, if impatient, smile. “Agreed.”

His stomach hardened at the sudden thought of being in business with either of them if she became Lady Piedmont. He nodded tightly, controlling his tone of voice. “Good. I’d like to give Sir Lawrence my full attention right now, if that would be acceptable to both of my hosts?”

Lydia straightened. “Of course. Though I’ll maintain that I would not find your discoursedull.” She glanced at Sir Lawrence. “But it is your discourse to have, and I will attend to my other guests. Good evening, gentlemen.”

“Good evening, Miss Wooding,” both gentlemen murmured.

Andrew nodded a thank you to Spencer, curiosity lighting his eyes.

Spencer turned, reminding himself of his sole reason for being in Surrey at all. “To the study, Sir Lawrence, before we’re pulled into the fierce battle I have no doubt this particular game will become.”

“Now where do you think he got that idea, Andrew?” Violet asked from the table.

“I’ve no idea,” Andrew replied. “We are the epitome of acquiescence and apathy. I hope you win.”

“As I do you.”

“Take care, you two,” Spencer heard Lydia say, “or we’re liable to be struck by lightning from all thisapathy.”

The mouth on that woman. Spencer warmed uncomfortably, suspecting he’d be remembering kissing that mouth for a very long time. Regret that their first kiss must also be their last already weighed heavy in his chest.

In the study, Sir Lawrence stood before the fireplace while Spencer poured each of them a drink. He paused near a large potted fig tree. Frederick the Griffin had been placed on a pedestal, no doubt awaiting his plaque. What spontaneous fun that had been. He’d let his guard down so easily. Too easily.

“Tell me something,” Sir Lawrence said. “What did you mean by that deal you struck with Miss Wooding just now?”

Spencer released a breath. He had no qualms with being honest about it. “Miss Wooding has offered to invest in the motor supply shops and promised to discuss it with Andrew before moving forward.”

Sir Lawrence huffed. “Andrew will never approve.” He took the offered drink.

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