“I really wanted to see it all,” he said, undaunted. “Could I just—”
“I’ll show you around,” Declan said, easing the man away from Evie.
She gave him a grateful look and mouthed, “Thanks.”
And just to let this rude guest know what’s what, Declan leaned down and added a light kiss on her lips. “I got this, E.”
She slipped away, and he turned to the man who might have missed the whole exchange as he gaped around.
“We can start in the dining room,” Declan said, aware of a burst of laughter that came from some members of his family, making him really hope this diversion didn’t last long so he could get back to people he’d rather be with.
But he wasn’t going to let this guy ruin Evie’s big night with talk of offers and contracts.
“The dining room?” Bell sounded less than enthused.
“Where two governors dined.”
“Hmm.” His gaze still scanned the area quickly, his interest in the dining room was pretty low. For all his money, he probably couldn’t even appreciate the unique beauty of that ceiling or the finishings or the history.
He didn’t deserve this house.
“Folklore has it that Amelia Bushrod almost had a baby on the table,” Declan added, waiting for at least a surprised look, but getting none.
“I heard there’s quite an art and jewelry collection.” Bell leaned in. “You think she’ll sell it all with the house? Because, I’m telling you, I want it all.”
Annoyance slithered through Declan with every word the guy spoke. “I can only tell you that she isn’t selling the house in the foreseeable future, so if I were you, I’d seriously think about finding another.”
“Mmm.” Bell seemed to ignore the warning as his gaze darted around the dining room again, then back into the crowded entry. Across the hall, Declan saw his uncle and Katie had joined a growing group of family, and Evie was right there with them. Irritation kicked again, because that’s where he wanted to be.
“So, enough of a look?” Declan asked. “Can I get you a drink?”
“No, no, I’m not nearly done.” Bell headed around the stairs. “I want to see every inch I can. I’ve waited a long time to get back…” He pointed. “There. To the museum room? Is that what they call it? I saw an article in an old issue of North Carolina Living.”
Declan blew out a breath and tipped his head. “Follow me.”
As they rounded the steps, Bell inched closer to whisper, “What’s it going to take, you think? I mean, you’re obviously her main squeeze. More money? Some kind of guarantee that I’ll keep everything as is?”
Declan had to dash some hopes, and fast. “Look, you want me to be honest?”
“Yeah, man. Help me out here.” They stepped into the double doorway of the museum room, and Bell’s eyes widened like a kid’s in a candy store. “Are you kidding me?” His gaze lingered on some paintings, a display of necklaces, the large shelf full of lighters, then slid to the piano. “Would you freaking look at that thing?”
That thing…where a sweet old lady hid a twenty-year-old piece of paper that meant the world to him. That thing…that Evie played during a recital he sat through because he already loved her when they were kids. That thing…that maybe his own little girl might someday play Beethoven on and impress a boy.
“That’s not for sale,” he said quickly.
“Anything? That big portrait?”
Of Glory Bushrod herself? Was he kidding? “No.”
“That settee?”
Where he and Evie made out for the first time as adults? “No.”
“That lighter collection?”
“Nothing is for sale, Mr. Bell. Not anything in this room, and not this house.” He kept his voice low and steady, aware that there were other people in the room. “And if you don’t mind, I’d like to…”
“I don’t mind.” Bell practically dismissed him, taking a few steps toward the lighters, his whole face looking…hungry. As he reached for one, part of the tattoo that matched his name peeked out from his cuff. “I can look.”
And steal. Who’d stop this lunatic from slipping one of Max’s beloved Ronsons into his pocket? Or sneaking off with the locket that Declan found. He didn’t trust this clown, not one single thing about him. And he didn’t like him salivating over the house and heirlooms that belonged to Evie’s family…their family.
He gracefully stepped between Bell and the lighters. “So, Jim, can I introduce you to anyone? Who did you know to get on the coveted invitation list?”
His eyes flickered for a second. “Nellie’s an old friend.”
“Really? Because she’s right there, and you haven’t said hello.”
“Oh, yeah.” He glanced around and nodded to a woman…who was not Nellie Shaker.
What the hell?
“I’ll talk to her later. Could I see those—”
“No.” Declan glared down at the man. “You can leave.”
“Excuse me?” He choked a laugh. “Do you have a problem with me or something?”
“I kinda do, Jim. You see, you’re not picking up on the not-so-subtle cues that say this house isn’t for sale and neither is anything in it. Evie and her grandfather live here, and a Hewitt or a Bushrod has lived in this house for one hundred and twenty years. So a Bell isn’t going to be next.”
A Mahoney might, but not this guy.
The man’s pale brown eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”
Did he not speak English? “That the house isn’t for sale, so you can stop salivating over it.”
“You want me to leave?” He gave Declan a challenging look, holding it long enough that for one minute he could have sworn he knew the guy. Or maybe it was just that Bell cockiness reminded him of someone.
“I do.” Declan tipped his head to the side. “In fact, I’ll walk you out. Through the back.” Because the last thing he needed was a scene at Evie’s party, and he did not trust this pushy guy.
The other man seared him with a look. “Fine,” he said. “But
