Page 51 of Dangerous

“I’m happy to answer your question. I’ve acquired several small farms. One in Sussex, one in Lincolnshire, and one all the way up in Yorkshire. They are currently tenanted and operate without much oversight. There are two baronial halls, I suppose you would call them. One in Cumbria, leased for the long term. The other in Essex is a shell, uninhabited and uninhabitable at present. Two—no, three—full estates, all quite far north. Two are still occupied by members of the family under life-estate agreements. The third is undergoing renovations. I have a town house in Brighton, several buildings in the city, three of which are leased and the newest of which is nearing completion.” He mentally counted to see if he had missed anything.

“For what purpose are you renovating these buildings?”

“Is this a third question?”

She rolled her eyes and made the hissing sound he was beginning to expect whenever she was irritated.

Adam almost grinned. “What is sauce for the goose, my dear.”

She glanced at the table of food. “What does saucing the goose mean?”

“What is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. It means it is permissible for one person to behave a certain way if another person has already done so.”

She smirked. “Well, bloody hell.”

Adam threw his head back and laughed. “Touché.”

Adam had been about to take a drink of wine when he noticed her staring. He lowered the glass. “Don’t worry, I promised I wouldn’t become intoxicated.”

“No, it isn’t that. It’s . . .”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“It pleases me to see you laugh. It is . . . a rarity.”

He frowned and stared into the glass as he swirled its contents. Was he really that much of a dour, miserable bastard?

“My third question,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “What are you going to do with the two buildings you are restoring?”

Piqued, repiqued, and capoted. Adam was almost insulted by her lack of interest in his dangerous reputation. Perhaps a man with two dead wives was no match for seventeen years in a harem? But why did she care what he was doing with his properties? And how the devil did she manage to sense the subjects he preferred to keep private?

“My lord?”

“I don’t think you really need an answer to your question. I can only suppose either Livia or Octavia has been talking out of school?”

She leaned back among her pile of cushions, her expression as innocent as a baby’s. “Is that one of your questions, my lord?”

Adam had the distinct feeling he’d just been stage managed by an expert.

Chapter Seventeen

Mia could see by his scowl that the cold, haughty, contemptuous Lord Exley didn’t like revealing his acts of charity. Why would he be ashamed of providing a home for impoverished women and children? She recalled something Livia had told her at the theater.

“For whatever reason, my dear Mia, Adam insists on promoting his reputation as that of a hard, cold man who cares for nobody but himself.”

Mia had several ideas as to why he would be eager to preserve such a reputation. Now she just had to chisel and chip her way through the thick wall of ice around him to find the truth.

“It is your turn to ask questions, my lord.” She made herself comfortable among the cushions and took a sip of wine.

“Why were you arguing with Ramsay on our wedding day?” he asked, proving that he, too, could ask questions that disconcerted.

Mia resisted the urge to hiss. “We were merely discussing the situation in the Mediterranean. He can be very passionate when it comes to political issues.” She told herself the answer wasn’t completely a lie. After all, Jibril was part of the political situation in the Mediterranean.

“How odd. It seemed to me that you were the one who was passionate.”

A telling heat began to creep up her neck. How was he able to do this to her?

Her husband watched her reddening face with his usual lack of expression, which only served to make her blush harder. He turned away and put his empty glass on the table. “Tell me what happened the other night—our wedding night.”