The Secrets of Lord Lynford by Bronwyn Scott

Author:Bronwyn Scott
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2019-10-04T15:36:17+00:00

Chapter Twelve

‘What were you thinking, Eliza?’ Detford sputtered incredulously as he paced the front parlour in overt agitation.

Now that they were alone, he let loose his emotions, his polished veneer slipping. Sophie was upstairs with Miss Gilchrist having a bath and Eaton had decorously taken his leave at the front door, but not before slanting her a querying look that asked questions: Who was Miles Detford? Was he more than a business partner? But mostly, there’d been concern in Eaton’s gaze, his dark eyes asking silently, Should I leave you alone with this man, this intruder who has pre-empted our talk?

But she could not afford to think of Eaton’s dark eyes now, or the way his arms had felt about her. Miles was in the middle of a tirade and she needed her wits about her to keep him in check. ‘For heaven’s sake, Eliza, you were out there alone with him.’

‘Sophie was with us. What is the crime, Miles?’ Eliza snapped impatiently. If there was any crime committed, it was his. He’d kept her waiting for three weeks. She’d summoned him to help resolve a problem and he’d taken his time to make his way here. Now he had the audacity to act as if he had some claim on her.

Miles Detford stopped pacing and speared her with a stare. ‘You know very well what the crime is. He’s heir to a dukedom and you are a widow who can choose to be available to him without the benefit of marriage.’ He folded his arms across his chest and she was struck by the dissimilarity between him and Eaton. Miles was a mediocre man in all ways: neither tall nor short, neither thin or large. His features were refined and finished, bland in their smoothness. He was nowhere near as rugged or as interesting as Eaton. Eaton looked like Cornwall. Miles looked like London. He thought like London, too, with his quick, wicked insinuations. He raised a blond brow and asked point-blank, ‘Are you available to him, Eliza?’

‘Hush! Do you want the servants to hear you!’ Eliza scolded. How dare he suggest such slander. She ought to tell him the truth, that absolutely no, she was not ‘available’ to Eaton, but that would only affirm for Miles that he had the right to lecture her on behaviour, that she answered to him, which she most assuredly did not. He answered to her. She controlled the mines. He was her employee, nothing more. ‘Envy is unbecoming on you, Miles. Is that it? May no one have me because you cannot?’

Anger flared in Miles Detford’s pale blue eyes, so very light where Eaton’s were dark. Once, she might have found those eyes attractive, once she might have compared them to sea glass, but whatever nascent attraction had existed was long ago extinguished. Miles Detford might be a friend, but he could never be more. He sat beside her on the sofa, his anger banked now, his tone softer. ‘It is your reputation I’m concerned about, Eliza, and the mines.

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