His Lady Mistress

Elizabeth Rolls31ing, so he would have to ask his host point-blank. And howhe was supposed to ask tactfully escaped him.In the end, he eschewed tact, cornering his host as theyleft the dining room. ‘Faringdon, perhaps I might have a privateword with you?’Lord Faringdon blinked. And then smiled. An oily, triumphantsort of smile that put every nerve on full battle alert.‘Why, of course, Blakehurst. My library is private. This way!’He signalled to his son. ‘Godfrey, tell my lady that I amengaged on some urgent business with Blakehurst.’Max eyed him with extreme disfavour. Good God! Theman was fairly rubbing his hands in glee! What the devil didhe—? The truth crashed over him. Faringdon thought he wasabout to make an offer. For Celia. Mentally cursing his ownidiocy, Max followed his host to the library.‘More brandy, Blakehurst?’Max abandoned good manners. ‘No. Thank you.’Faringdon favoured him with a conspiratorial grin andpoured a glass anyway, thrusting it at him. ‘No, no, Blakehurst.This ain’t the same stuff we had in the dining room!Wouldn’t waste this on that lot!’‘I’ve had enough,’ Max informed him coldly.Faringdon stared. ‘Had enough? Oh, ah...yes, well.’ Hetook a sip himself. ‘To business, then. I take it, you like whatyou see. She’s had only the best, so...’Max headed him off at once. ‘Lord Faringdon, I wonderif you could give me any news of Miss Scott?’‘Miss Scott?’ The brandy in Lord Faringdon’s glassslopped over.Max frowned at the reaction. Faringdon’s eyes flickeredunder his hard gaze. Fear.He pressed on, relentless. ‘Yes. I believe her to be a nieceof Lady Faringdon and under your care. Her late father wasmy C.O. and I thought to enquire after her.’ He pretended toexamine a painting.