“We’ll take it,” he told Mr. Beggsly as he passed him by and stomped down the steps.
“Excellent, excellent.” The other man bustled after him. “But there is one other thing.”
“What is it? I have no time for hesitation.” Reaching the entry hall, Drew opened the front door and found a smiling gentleman on the step.
“Good afternoon,” he said, doffing his hat to reveal a head full of yellow hair. “Are you Mr. Beggsly?”
“No, no, that would be me.” Mr. Beggsly pushed Drew out of the way to greet the other man. “Mr. Tidsdale, I presume.”
“Who is that?” Mrs. Dart appeared at Drew’s side, her gaze glued to the newcomer.
“This,” Mr. Beggsly said, “is what I was about to tell you, my lord. Mr. Tidsdale is also interested in the residence and has made quite a good offer.”
Mrs. Dart gasped, a tiny sound that cut deep. She’d fallen in love with the place, Drew had promised it to her, and now this odious little man was telling him there existed another offer?
“Are you attempting to manipulate me, Mr. Beggsly?” Drew stepped closer to the man, pulling himself up tall when he was already a good foot taller than him, too.
“No, no. But it is my business to sell this residence for what it’s worth. What that is remains for the two of you to decide.” Mr. Beggsly grinned.
Mr. Tidsdale grinned, too. Right at Mrs. Dart. “And who are you?”
Drew hooked his arm through hers and pulled her toward the door. “We are leaving, Mrs. Dart.”
“No, no.” Her small hand on him again, stopping him. “Let us be rational and calm, Lord Andrew. I’m sure a discussion will benefit us both.” She removed her arm from Drew’s and curtsied. “Mr. Tidsdale, I think I heard?”
He bowed. “And you are called Mrs. Dart?”
“I am. Would you let me show you around? You can tell me what you want the houses for, and I shall tell you my reason, and we shall, perhaps, come to some greater insight.”
“Mrs. Dart,” Drew growled.
She ignored him and led the other man down the hall. Mr. Tidsdale followed her like a puppy, his tail wagging, a happy yap in his voice.
“You’re lucky to have her, my lord,” Mr. Beggsly said.
“You’re lucky I have her. If she were not here, I’d have?—”
“Lord Andrew!” Mrs. Dart’s voice carried down the hall. “Do not say anything you’ll regret.”
He turned on his toe and shoved his hands through his hair. Every damn thing falling to pieces. He went outside and paced the street before the house. Houses. Counted the steps between them. Three times. Because he would be here, wife or no. His would be a marriage of convenience, after all. His wife would know what to expect.
Laughter rang from the doorway. Mrs. Dart and Mr. Tidsdale stood framed there, grinning at one another. What the hell was so funny?
“Are you done yet, Mrs. Dart?” Drew asked, glad to hear ice in his voice.
“Quite.” She stepped nearer him, and he had to clench his fists to keep from grabbing her to his side.
“And have you come to some understanding with Mr.… What did you say your name was? Tittersly?”
“Tidsdale. And”—he lengthened the word, his gaze lingering on Mrs. Dart’s mouth—“not quite yet. But I think an understanding will not take long.”
What the hell did that mean?
“I’m leaving. Mr. Beggsly, you have my offer. Not a penny more. Come along, Mrs. Dart.” He strode down the street without waiting for her, but she caught up quickly, her long legs striding at his side in no time despite her voluminous skirts.
“You were rude just now.” He heard the lecture there despite the huffs of breath she took between each word.
He shortened his stride and slowed his pace. “Beggsly was rude. He’s manipulating us. I’ll not have it.”
