Irritation simmered, fed by frustration. He'd turned away from seducing her into telling him all, yet because of her rash actions, and his reactions, he now appeared to have done just that. If truth were told, she had seduced him into seducing her. It hadn't been his doing that she'd turned up at the Manor in breeches after midnight, searching Horatio's room. Once he'd found her-well, what was he supposed to have done? Bowed and shown her the door?
Suppressing a snort, he tried to focus on the ledger before him. The undeniable fact that he'd used his wish to learn her secret as camouflage, a superficial, flippant covering for the deeper, darker truth, continued to niggle and irk. The situation and Phyllida had conspired to trip him up; the reality of his need, the driving urge to make her his, had completed his downfall.
Why had he seduced her? Because he'd wanted to-needed to. If he told her that, she'd sniff and look away, and continue believing the worst.
His gaze flicked to her; he was careful not to stare too intently.
At least she was here, safe and, for the moment, occupied. She'd gone around the downstairs rooms, but the writing desk had not materialized; she'd returned dejected, making sounds about going back to the Grange. He'd suggested she look through Horatio's ledgers to see if he'd sold the desk.
He was also going through the ledgers, searching for any entry that might qualify as Horatio's mystery item. He hadn't found anything yet.
His gaze fastened once more on Phyllida's calm face. He definitely did not like being classed with her other suitors, those who wanted her for material or social reasons, reasons that had little to do with her fair self. They were the ones who had made her lose faith in marriage. The fact that she believed he was like them irked-indeed, irked worse because, from her point of view, he'd been exploiting her, the woman-her emotions, her femaleness-all those qualities the others failed to even see.
Even if she hadn't accused him of that, he didn't like the idea that, in her
mind, she might.
How to correct her misconception? There really was only one answer. Having successfully seduced her once, he was going to have to do it again. And the bar on the jump had just been raised. Indeed, now he thought of it, she'd just become an even greater challenge.
The thought made him feel immeasurably better. He thrived on challenges.
Focusing on the page before him, he realized it was the one he'd been on when Phyllida had walked into the room. Stifling a sigh, he fixed his gaze on it, and scanned.
Minutes later, the latch clicked; Bristleford walked in. "Mr. Coombe wishes to speak with you, sir. Shall I inform him you are engaged?"
"Coombe?" Lucifer glanced at Phyllida. "Show him in, Bristleford."
Bristleford withdrew, closing the door. In response to Phyllida's pointed look, Lucifer murmured, "Coombe called a few days ago wanting first refusal on Horatio's books."
"You're going to sell them?" She looked shocked.
Frowning fleetingly, Lucifer shook his head; his gaze swung to the door as it opened. Silas Coombe minced in; Bristleford shut the door.
"Coombe. You know Miss Tallent, of course." Rising, Lucifer held out his hand.
Silas bowed extravagantly to Phyllida, who nodded. Then he grasped Lucifer's hand.
"What can I do for you?" Lucifer waved Silas to a chair.
"I won't keep you long." Silas glanced at Phyllida as he sat, then faced Lucifer. "As I mentioned, I'm interested in acquiring selected works from Horatio's collection. As you're a busy man and will doubtless have many other calls upon your time, I wondered if I might propose an accommodation that would suit us both."
"What accommodation?"
"I would be prepared to act as your agent in selling the collection." Silas rushed on. "It will be a very large job, of course, quite a commitment in time, but in the circumstances, I feel the arrangement will serve us both."
For a long moment, Lucifer said nothing; then he asked, "Let me see if I understand your proposal correctly. You're suggesting I should consign Horatio's entire collection to you, and you would arrange the sales for a commission. Is that right?"
"Precisely." Coombe beamed. "It'll make life much easier for you, especially with settling in-new county, new house." His gaze drifted to Phyllida, then he looked back at Lucifer. "Why, I'll even arrange to have the books removed to my house in the interim."
"Thank you, but no." Lucifer stood. "Contrary to your expectations, I have no plans to dispose of any part of Horatio's collection. Indeed, if anything, I shall be adding to it. Now, if there's nothing else?"
Forced to rise, Coombe stared at him. "You don't mean to sell?"
"No." Lucifer rounded the desk. "Now, if you'll excuse us, Miss Tallent and I have various accounts to check." He steered Coombe to the door.
"Well! I mean-well, fancy that! It never occurred… I do hope I haven't given the wrong impression…"
Coombe's protestations died away. Lucifer handed him to Bristleford, waiting in the hall, then shut the library door. He strolled back to the desk. Phyllida was sunk in thought. "What?" he asked.