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SIX

Briar

“When you said dinner?—”

“You didn’t expect this?” I said with a nervous smile.

We’d been seated swiftly. Of course I had. I owned the Queen’s Head—or at least, had a controlling stake in it. The menu had been sent to me ahead of time, as usual, and I had made a few alterations to ensure the night would be perfect.

I had felt ridiculous the moment I sent the note.

This wasn’t two people courting, or anything close to it. Just two people having dinner.

Two people who’d made love. Who almost kissed, twice, in meetings that were supposed to be about work. Two people who didn’t couldn’t be in the same room as each other without wanting to…

I licked my lips and looked down at my wine glass. I could see the Duke of Markham watching me, and it made tingling prickles skim across my thighs.

“You said dinner, I assumed it was a dinner meeting,” said the Duke of Markham, looking about the place in wonder. “Not…not this.”

This was one of the most beautiful restaurants I had ever seen. It was why I had pushed my advisors to sign off on the investment—one of my rare moments of grit.

The design was simple. Elegance and decorum, French furniture with a light green paint on the walls and the most splendid paintings of the pantheon of Greek gods on the ceiling. A string quartet sat to one side and played quietly, and there were ferns in marble pots and pillars?—

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Markham with awe.

I looked back at him, pleased to hear him impressed. It was only when I saw his gaze was fixed not on the spectacular achievement of the restaurant’s layout, but at me, that my cheeks burned.

I looked down at my wine.

Perhaps this had been a mistake. I’d wanted to get to know him better—as he was advising me, I told myself. So that we could work together better. So I could understand the Duke of Markham, get into his head.

Get into his bed.

Not get into his bed, I thought firmly, pushing the idea aside. Probably. Definitely.

“I’ve never managed to get a reservation at the Queen’s Head, even when I was—I mean, when I was a member of…even before,” said the Duke of Markham defiantly, as though he hadn’t just referred to his time at the Gambling Dukes.

I chose not to pursue it. “It helps if you own forty six percent of the shares.”

“I would imagine it does,” the Duke of Markham said with a grin. “Your choice, I take it? Against the counsel of your advisors?”

How on earth did he?—

“I can see it in your eyes,” he said quietly, the grin fading but the warmth it contained remaining. “You like this place—not just because of its beauty, but because of its worth, its value. What it represents, what it can offer you. You’ve got a good business head, Lady Briar.”

I swallowed. “You think so?”

No one had ever told me anything like that. No one had ever thought that about me, as far as I knew.

“I do indeed, Lady Briar,” the Duke of Markham said lightly. “And I think, given the circumstances, it would only be right if you were to call me by my name. Peregrine.”

Peregrine. It was a charming name, a roguish one. It suited him perfectly.

“And I’ve never been courted more assiduously,” Peregrine said smoothly, that cheeky smile returning.

“This is not—I am not courting you, the very idea!” I returned hotly, my grip tightening around my wine glass. “This is?—”

“Oh, you are courting me.”

I laughed, hardly able to believe the man’s arrogance. “Peregrine, I am not?—”

“Lady Briar, how many of your advisors have you taken out to dinner?” he said lightly.

Damn him. He knew the answer, could probably see it on my face. And I didn’t want to answer, because to answer would be to admit…

“None of them, obviously,” I said as airily as I could. “Because I already know how they think. I’ve worked with them for years. It’s you that I need to figure out.”

Peregrine leaned his elbows on the table, folded his hands together, and rested his chin on it, all the while never taking his eyes away from me. “Figure out, you say? And what do you have so far?”

Thankfully we were distracted by the arrival of our starters; langoustine with an a la Nage and fennel base, a ballotine of duck liver with damson and pistachio sauce, and a Dorset crab stuffed with almond and samphire rout. Food I had ordered ahead of time.

Peregrine’s eyes widened. “I don’t get to choose?”

“Ah, you see, I am not courting you,” I said smoothly with a wry laugh. “This is a business meeting. Which just happens to be catered by a restaurant.”

His glance shot fire through my chest. “You believe that if you want. I know how you feel about me.”

Did he? I hardly did. One minute I wanted to throttle the man, the next I wanted him to pull me across the table, order everyone else out of the restaurant, and?—

“My Lord Markham. Good evening.”

A beautiful woman with raven hair and a pearl necklace that trailed all the way down to her navel had stopped by our table.

Heat seared through my chest that I had not expected. It wasn’t embarrassment, or confusion. It was jealousy.

Jealousy.

Oh, they clearly knew each other. The way Peregrine was carefully avoiding the woman’s eye, they obviously had shared something intensely intimate. Something had happened between them, for there was a faint flush on the woman’s cheeks, and when she spoke, it was stilted.

“Didn’t think I would—you’re doing well. I suppose.”

“Very well,” said Peregrine quietly, his gaze still not meeting hers. “And you are, I suppose.”

It wasn’t a question, but the woman nodded.

I knew I shouldn’t stare, but I couldn’t take my eyes from them. There was something…something magnetic between them. Their history seeped into their silence, and I felt rage pour through me that made absolutely no sense.

Jealousy wasn’t something I typically suffered from—maybe because I had never been courted seriously by any suitor to make it a feature of my life.

But this? Peregrine had entirely lost sight of me. All he could focus on was the beautiful woman by our table who obviously wanted to leave, but didn’t know how.

“I’d…I’d better?—”

“Yes, of course,” said Peregrine quietly to his starter. “I'm sure I’ll see you soon.”

“I don’t know,” said the woman just as quietly. “I don’t know, Markham.”

She walked away, her hips delicately swaying. She did not look back.

Only when the restaurant door swung behind her did I realize that somehow, I had been holding my breath.

“Wow,” I said quietly. “You two must have had some encounter.”

I hadn’t intended to speak aloud, but obviously I had.

Peregrine flushed. “That was my friend. One of my previous club members. Lilah—or rather, Delilah, the Dowager Duchess of Rotherwick.”

“F-Friend?” I repeated.

Oh. Well, that certainly explained the awkwardness, though its source was far from what I had expected.

Peregrine’s cheeks were still pink as he continued. “I haven’t seen Lilah since…well, since the news broke of my thieving. She didn’t take my betrayal particularly well.”

No wonder she had looked so uncomfortable.

“I'm sure I’ll see you soon.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know, Markham.”

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean for that to get awkward,” Peregrine said with a forced cheerfulness even I could spot. “Didn’t want it to ruin our courtship.”

I frowned. “You know we are not courting, Peregrine. You…you must feel intensely odd after seeing her like that."

“What was I supposed to do, ignore her?” he shot back.

I must have flinched. I didn’t intend to, and wasn’t aware of doing it, but he sighed and shook his head, a look of frustration on his face.

“Sorry, Lady Briar,” Peregrine said, pushing his food about his plate. “It’s just…yes, seeing Lilah like that made me feel pretty awful. She isn’t…wasn’t the friend I was closest to, but my friends are all I have. All I had. Seeing her look at me like I'm a stranger in a restaurant makes me…”

His voice trailed off and his head hung low.

Prickles of discomfort were curling around my heart. I’d never intended to intrude on Peregrine—on the Duke of Markham’s history. If he hadn’t stolen jewelry from me, I probably never would have gone after him, even when I realized who he was.

Whenever he’d referred to his past, it was always with a grin or an aside that made light of the situation.

But he couldn’t do that now. The awkwardness between him and his friend had been palpable, and there was a look of genuine hurt on his face.

Was there any contrition there? Did he feel the weight of what he’d done? Was Peregrine, the Duke of Markham finally realizing what it was to be estranged from his closest friends?

“At least you have friends,” I said, trying to lighten the mood as I took a bite of my Dorset crab. “I'm an only child.”

“At least you don’t have anyone to disappoint,” Peregrine said, meeting my gaze with a dark one of his own.

I tried to smile. “Yes. That’s good.”

It was awful. Being alone in the world, not having a single person I could trust? No parents, no siblings, no husband to rely on? I was solitary, isolated, and Peregrine had a whole raft of friends he could turn to if something really awful happened.

“I think I broke Lilah’s heart when it all came out,” said Peregrine unexpectedly, breathing out slowly.

“Not just because she’s my sister-in-law, either.

Bad for the club, yes, but also terrible for her.

She…well. She was betrayed in the past. A lover after her husband died, I think, she never talks about it much.

But it was rough. She trusts deeply, does Lilah—but then, all of them did. ”

He hadn’t taken a bite of food, as far as I could see.

Was this repentance from Peregrine, the Duke of Markham?

Markham

The last thing I wanted was to be here.

Not because a dinner with Lady Briar Weatherford was some sort of hardship. Hell, teasing her about courting me had revived me in a way I could never have predicted.