The waitress stares at London with surprise as the waiter cuts in, “Congratulations, Lord Sheridan, and welcome, Lady Sheridan, if you need anything, please let us know.” He loops his arm through the disappointed young girl’s arm, and they walk away.
“Well done, Declan,” she mutters and grabs a plate to fill it. Taking one of each item, the tantalizing scents cause her mouth to water.
“If I didn’t know better, Lady Sheridan, I’d say you were jealous,” he teases and fills his own plate.
“I’ve no right to have such an emotion, Declan.” She avoids looking at him until he grunts.
“You've got the only right,” he sets his plate down carefully and waits for her to look at him. Her eyes jump to his.
“Declan, you know nothing about me. You shouldn’t say such things. We have a contract…”
“I’m well aware of the contract,” he gestures at her, “but I give you my word as long as we are wed, I will remain faithful to the vows I gave you. I expect the same from you,” he growls at her.
“I don’t recall that written in our vows,” she teases, and the tension evaporates. Spearing a scallop, she pops it into her mouth and closes her eyes. The flavor explodes on her tongue, and when she opens her eyes, the desire in his eyes is unmistakable. “If you keep feeding me like this, I will have to break out the Mouse’s clothes,” she laughs softly and eats.
“London, even as the Mouse, you were captivating. The day in the entry of the Hubbard's home, there was something about you that drew me. Did you feel it?” he demands.
“I did, Declan, but I never dared dream of a man like you,” she gives him the words he needs to hear.
He relaxes and smiles, “What about now? Do you dream, London?”
“Dreaming is dangerous, Declan,” but if I had a wish, she thinks it would be to make this charade a reality. She puts her fork down, suddenly no longer hungry.
“It can be, but what is life without dreams, London?” Dark chocolate eyes filled with sorrow stare at him, and he is more determined than ever to show her how to live with joy.
“I don’t remember how, Declan,” she whispers.
“We will work on that together,” he promises, and she nods, picking up her fork.
Chapter 24
“Welcome to Silvercrest Management, how may I help you?” the secretary asks.
“I need to talk to the person in charge,” George Hubbard demands.
“I see, do you have an appointment, Mr.?”
“No, but he'll want to see me. Tell him, R. L. Pearce is here to see him.” George grins when she leaves to talk to her boss. The office sits nicely on the fifth floor of the Wells Fargo bank. Lush carpet and wallpapered walls, with solid cherry desks. “Smells like money,” he snaps and smooths his long black mustache.
“Right this way Mr. Pearce,” the secretary directs him to the office. “Mr. Shaffer will be right with you.” George glances at the plaque on the desk, Richard Shaffer, and sits down unbuttoning his jacket.
“Mr. Pearce, thank you for waiting, what can I do for you?” He shakes hands with George before sitting down behind his desk.
“Mr. Shaffer, it’s come to my attention that you have an investor by the name of R. L. Pearce who you handle business for. I need this person’s name.”
“Sir, Silvercrest Management is renowned for keeping our investor's identities private.” Richard glances at the door, wondering how quickly he can get security here if he needs it.
“I understand,” George stands up. “I was hoping we could do this civilly. I’m willing to pay for this information, but I can see from the look in your eyes that won’t be possible.” He pulls a pistol from his jacket and points it at Richard. “I’ll have his name one way or another. Whether it’s now or when your wife gets home from visiting with her mother.”
Richard goes pale, “What did you say?”
“You heard me. Her mother's been sick, and she goes every day to help take care of her on fifth street. It'd be a shame to let something happen to one or both of them.”
“What do you want?” Richard glares at him.
“I need the identity of R.L. Pearce and an address.”
Richard nods and pulls out a file flipping through it, he writes down the address and name on a slip of paper and slides it across the desk.
George glances down and frowns, “Is this some kind of sick joke?”
“No, she learned from her father. If that’s all, Mr. Hubbard, I have work to do.”
“The Mouse!” he shouts, and he’s tempted to shoot the man where he sits.
“Do I need to call security?” Richard demands.
“No!” George slams from the room stomping to his carriage and sits heavily in the rich leather seat. Balling up his fists he shouts in rage to no one, “She marries off our daughter to a tobacco farmer, steals the Duke, and buys all the shares in his business! How is this possible?”
Back in his office, he sits with a decanter of whiskey and drinks heavily, as he processes this new information.
Tessa knocks, and he barely glances at her. “Georgie, can you tell me what this is? I found it in the Mouse's room.” She holds up the paperwork and black ledger in front of him.
“Bring it to me,” he demands.
She quickly hands over the documents and watches as he finishes a third glass of whiskey. Flipping through the paperwork, the glass shatters in his hand.
“What is it, George!” she squeaks.
“That witch has been spying on me for years!” He tosses the decanter
