Page 83 of Scandalous

“Why? Because I ask Graaf to pay what he owes? Ask Ramsay if you do not believe me. He will tell you the code among gentlemen. By evading payment the Dutchman shames himself without any help from me. But, come, he is gone. Now we may talk of more interesting matters.”

“Such as?”

“Me, you, my estate, your visit to my estate—to name only a few.”

“Oh? Are you planning to entertain?”

He sighed. “Not for some time, I’m afraid. Oak Park is in need of a good deal of work before it is ready for guests.”

“Oak Park. What a lovely name.”

“Yes, lovely,” he murmured, his eyes drifting to her mouth and then down her body and back. “Oak Park is not so far from Lessing Hall. I will invite Ramsay and his wife. They can bring their brats. I have an excellent trout pond and stream on the property, perfect for young boys looking for trouble. I would like you to see my house, Sarah.”

Sarah looked away from his caressing gaze. What did such an invitation mean after weeks of ignoring her? Why must he be so awkward and unknowable? She realized he was waiting for a response.

“Naturally I would be pleased to see your house.”

“Naturally.” His smile was lazy and confident.

* * *

Martín considered his morning’s work as he cantered away from Hyde Park. His feelings after seeing Sarah and Graaf were a mixture of relief and annoyance.

He was relieved to see that Sarah treated the Dutch nobleman with nothing other than friendly tolerance and annoyed that she treated Martín much the same way.

It had killed him to stay away from her after he’d learned she rode in the park almost daily with the Dutchman.

“You must go to Oak Park for a few days,” Ramsay had ordered the day following the Exleys’ ball, not that Martín had solicited his opinion. They’d been at Tattersalls, where the baron had just paid an outrageous amount for a pair of grays.

Martín ignored the suggestion, but that did not matter to the older man.

“You can see to the estate and also consider Sarah and how you will approach her.”

“What makes you think I need to do either, old man?”

“Take Jenkins with you,” Ramsay said, dismissing Martín’s rude question.

“Jenkins is a fool. I can see to myself.”

“A gentleman always travels with his manservant.”

“I am no gentleman.”

“You are to the people whose lives you now control. Oak Park is an impressive estate, Martín. Strive to live up to it.”

He’d gritted his teeth at Ramsay’s chiding tone.

“Take my curricle. It will be an excellent opportunity to put Zeus and Hades through their paces.”

“Who?”

“My new horses.” He gestured to the frisky grays, who looked as if they were ready to chew the arm off Ramsay’s groom. “That is what I have named them.” His smirk told Martín the names meant something. Something clever, no doubt. Martín refused to humor him by asking.

Instead, he’d humored him by leaving the following morning, taking the curricle, the horses, and Jenkins. He told himself he was going to escape Ramsay’s nagging, but really he was going so he could figure out what he would do, once and for all. Or at least think about it.

Contrary to Ramsay’s claim, Oak Park had looked less than impressive. Martín had arrived at twilight, and the old manor had looked dreary and ramshackle in the crepuscular light. He’d briefly considered turning around, but the late hour made such an impulse unwise.

The only servants in residence were an old man and his wife, remnants of a time when the house had been the country seat of a lord, the same man who’d lost it to the Marquess of Exley in a card game. Exley, in turn, had given Martín the estate several years back as a reward for risking his life and ship to save Lady Exley’s son from his homicidal half-brother.