He pushed down the whisper of that beast.
How the hell was he supposed to endure the sensation of even the slightest of grazes without a hint of reaction? And why the devil didn’t he just cuff this arse and drag him to the nearest shipping yard to be found by whoever happened across him? “What brings you here, Baston? Are not the places you haunt generally seedier?”
“I’m simply seeking shelter from the rain.”
An answer but not an answer.
Blake arched a brow but said nothing. Where was Bishop when he needed him? Why hadn’t his poor choice in judgement intervened yet?
Devil take it.
But then, Bishop had been the one to deal with Baston from the start and may have his own reason for staying in the shadows. Blake had only met the man once, when he had visited to the estate, offering top-notch horses.
Which was how Baston had caught their attention.
He had presented himself as the sort to solve problems. A man with a talent to charm. However, even then, Blake had sensed a quality that he could not quite name about the man.
A honeyed tongue could conceal a thousand lies. Only actions spoke to the truest self.
This arse.
Blake grunted in his heart.
He still didn’t know what had come over Bishop to enlist Baston’s services to handle the bandits—he usually had better judgement. But then, a part of that fault lay with him as well.Hadn’t he been so eager for just one line of news about Lady Rosilee that he had overlooked Bishop’s methods?
He couldn’t even be angry at his right-hand man, for this or anything else—not really—however much he might grumble or complain.
After dragging Bishop from that ditch five years ago, the man had sworn he wouldn’t leave Blake’s side until Blake set foot outside of his estate. And he’d kept his promise faithfully. It couldn’t be denied that he’d always had Blake’s best interests at heart.
And now, Bishop had finally gotten his way—Blake had set foot outside his estate.
He wondered if his Bishop would now finally be on his way after this journey. If so, he could at least spare Blake the misery of dealing with Baston alone. He hadn’t resigned yet, damn it.
“Well,” Blake said finally, deciding to put a blunt end to this conversation. “you’ve come to the right place if shelter is what you seek.” Now get lost.
The man leaned back in his chair. “I’m also searching for someone.”
Blake took a sip of tea, studying the man hard over the rim of his cup. “I see. Good luck in finding them.”
Baston arched a brow.
Blake arched one back.
“Most people would express sympathy,” Baston said.
“Given the rumors circling about you these days, sympathy is the last thing most people would express, I’d wager.”
Baston laughed. “You hear rumors holed up on your estate?”
“Everyone seems to know everything about me.” Blake scoffed. “Do I look holed up at the moment?”
“No, I suppose you do not.”
Hell and damnation.
Blake would have liked nothing more than to rise and turn his back on the man, but doing that would leave Lady Rosilee stranded beneath the table. Worse, she might even rise along with him, for it surely felt like she’d wrapped herself around him like an octopus, though, of course, she had done no such thing.
Even so, the image that impression provoked still nearly made him choke.
