“Not everyone will be dressed formally, but Henry will be,” I said, trying not to focus on how freaking good this guy looked in tweed. How was that even possible?
“And the color is right for grouse,” Angus said.
“Then let’s take it,” Beck said. “What else?”
“I have a list,” I said, pulling out the pad of paper and pen I’d brought from the hotel. “We need some shooting boots, a waterproof jacket. I think some moleskin jeans for the Fort William trip. Maybe a casual tweed jacket and a hat?” I wasn’t sure I’d manage to get Beck into a hat, but it was worth a try.
“You can forget about the hat,” Beck told Angus. “But the rest is fine.”
Angus scurried away, and Beck turned to me. “I’m not a hat kind of man.”
“You didn’t think you were a tweed kind of man until five minutes ago.” He rolled his eyes. “If I ask you a question, will you tell me the truth?” I asked.
He frowned. “I’ve never lied to you.”
Beck was right. He’d never given me any reason to doubt what he told me, but I was doubtful of everything at the moment.
“Why’s the Dawnay building so important?” I asked. “You’re a rich man. You own the rest of that block. You could make a lot of money without that property.” He stepped forward to see if Angus was approaching and I got the feeling he’d welcome the interruption. But lucky for me, Angus was still gathering Beck’s new wardrobe. “You’re going to a lot of effort,” I continued. “It feels personal.”
Beck took a breath and exhaled as if he were surrendering. “Maybe it is.”
I stayed silent, willing the words to flow. I wanted to know more. I wanted to know everything about this man.
“My mother used to live in the building. When she was first pregnant with me.”
I knew there was something more to that building than the real estate, but such sentimentality was a shock. “You want to buy it for old time’s sake?” I asked.
“Hardly. She was asked to leave just before she gave birth and she had nowhere to go. She told me the story when I was sixteen. I’ve been fixated on the building ever since.”
“Because she was asked to leave?”
He nodded, fiddling with the display of blue ties next to me. “Henry inherited the building from his cousin, Patrick Dawnay.” He paused. “My biological father.”
A chill snaked up my spine.
He’d talked about his dad—a man he clearly loved from the way he described him. And a man who was very much alive. “I thought your dad was—”
“I never knew Patrick Dawnay. My dad raised me and is the only man I consider a father. Patrick Dawnay got my mother pregnant and then threw her away like she was nothing. She was his mistress and was provided with a flat in that building. But when she got pregnant, she got an eviction letter from his lawyer. Along with money for an abortion.”
The edges of me curled up and I tried not to shudder.
Everything made sense now.
His obsession with the Dawnay building.
The determination to be different from people with old money. He didn’t want to fit in. He didn’t want to be a man who would do that to his mother.
I stood, stepped toward him and slid my arms around his waist. He stepped back, out of my reach.
“Don’t feel sorry for me.”
I looked up at him. “Not for you. For your mother. No one deserves that.”
He nodded and this time he relented when I put my arms around him and placed my head on his chest.
“The Dawnay building won’t exist when I’m finished with it.”
“When we’re finished with it,” I corrected him.