To Con a Gentleman (Dalton Family 1)

Oliver’s green eyes narrowed, clearly unimpressed—as well as undeterred—by Carver’s attempt to lighten the mood. “It’s your first time home in three years, Kenny. It’s okay to be a little unnerved by it.”

Carver dismissed his valet, not wishing for his servant to overhear such a private conversation. Because if he knew Oliver, he would not drop the subject before they had explored every part of it.

“I’m not unnerved, Oliver. I’m completely fine.” Completely fine. He was, wasn’t he? He had gotten on with his life.

“Completely fine?” Oliver tipped a taunting brow and crossed his arms. “Then say her name.”

That was too far. Carver’s jaws clenched and his nostrils flared as he took in a deep breath. “Drop it, Oliver. If you push this topic, I’ll hit you. And you know it.”

“See. You’re not fine.” Oliver’s brows pulled together. “It’s time to move on and get some closure, Kenny. Maybe if you finally visit her grave while you’re—,”

“I have moved on,” Carver snapped through his teeth while curling his toes into his boots to keep himself from crossing the room and throwing his fist into Oliver’s nose.

“Really? Then why is it you haven’t come up to scratch with one of the dozens of ladies that want to marry you?”

“Not that itchy?”

“Stop,” Oliver said, adjusting in his seat. “You’re the biggest catch on the marriage mart. Too good looking for your own good. Titled. Wealthy. And could marry almost any woman you wanted in London. And yet, you will hardly even look at another woman since—”

“Don’t,” Carver said, deciding it was the last warning he would give his friend.

“You need to be able to say her name.”

“What I need is for you to drop it or get out of my bedchamber.” The skin on his knuckles stung as he tightened his hands into fists.

For a moment Oliver looked like he was going to press the subject further. Unfortunately, Oliver was never afraid of coming to cuffs with him. But then Oliver let out a deep sigh of relent and looked away.

“Fine. I’ll drop it. But think about what I said.” And then the entire atmosphere of the room lightened as Oliver’s face shifted into a lopsided grin. “After all, I know what I’m talking about. I’m very wise and almost a married man.”

Carver shook his head and walked to open his bedchamber door, eager to be done with the conversation and on with his day. “Don’t forget to tell Jeffers how much you need on the way out.”

“Thanks. I’ll pay you back,” said Oliver standing from his chair and walking toward the open door.

Carver just waved him off and smirked. “Don’t bother. Consider it a wedding gift.”

Even though in that moment he ached to fight the man, he was happy to be able to help him in any way he could. Even if it was for such a stupid reason as giving his money to a woman he barely knew and would likely never see again.

“Try not to miss me too much,” Oliver said with a grin while walking through the door.

“My pillow will be soaked through with tears until we are reunited.” He heard Oliver laugh on his way to the stairs.

An hour later, after Carver had finished his breakfast and was on the way to his study, he heard three raps at the front door. He stopped and waited for Jeffers to attend to the knock, but after a glance around the foyer, he realized that none of his staff had been present to hear it—most likely because everyone was in a frenzy trying to close up the house and pack for his trip home. He rolled his shoulders and quickly adjusted the cuffs of his jacket before going to open the door himself.

Chapter 3

Rose contemplated placing a fourth knock on the door, but before she had a chance, it flew open. Startled, she took a step back. She hadn’t anticipated the door opening so quickly or finding a gigantic handsome gentleman on the other side. Although she ought to have expected it since she knew that Lord Newburry was widely considered to cut an attractive figure. Rakes were very rarely ugly.

She was, however, most taken by surprise that the door was answered not by a butler, but instead by his lordship himself. She blinked at the mountainous earl and realized an absurd amount of time had passed while she stood there gaping at the man. Realizing she was, in fact, the one who had called upon him, she wished she could summon one word to speak, but none came. She had, quite frankly, forgotten why she was there in the first place. Had she ever been so terrible at a job so quickly before?

Lord Newburry’s cool grey eyes swept over and then behind her before speaking, reminding Rose of her purpose there.

“And to what do I owe the honor?” he said, one dark brow lifted making him look haughty and pretentious.

The sound of his deep voice jolted her back to the present. She shook her head—instantly wished she hadn’t—and then dropped a curtsy.

Get yourself together, you ninny!

“I beg your pardon, my lord. I was hoping for a private audience with your lordship.”