A Duke in the Night(41)
“Ah. No fancy clothes, no carriage with a coat of arms.” She sounded amused. “No footmen, no drivers—”
“And I left the heralds and the horns and the flower-throwing maidens at home this evening as well.” He returned her smile, unable to help himself.
He heard her catch her breath slightly as she took his hand and stepped out of the barouche. “Pity,” she said, releasing his fingers once she was firmly on the ground and Miss Baker was smartly leading the team away. “Spectacles are vastly underrated,” she continued. “I’ve always wanted to walk under a shower of rose petals.”
“I’ll keep that in mind next time I ask you to dinner.” Except it wasn’t dinner August was imagining but a bed covered in the velvet softness of scarlet petals, their fragrance as intoxicating as the woman who would be lying in their midst. He would start by—
“The girl who took the horses. She knew who you were, even though you’re not dressed as a duke and were driving.” Clara was watching the retreating horses with suddenly narrowed eyes. “Why?”
“A keen observation,” he said, firmly grasping the change in topic that offered a respite from his lewd imagination. He offered her his arm. “Most don’t notice Miss Baker is a miss at all.”
“And you never answered my question.”
August felt her hand come to rest delicately on his arm, as if she were determined to keep a more civilized distance. “Miss Baker and her brothers work for me.” He saw no reason to hide the fact from her.
Clara stopped abruptly. “They work for you,” she repeated slowly. “You own this tavern.”
“I do.” He paused. “Ah. I imagine you thought Monsieur Charleaux owned it.”
“Yes.” Her voice was faint.
“My ownership isn’t entirely a secret, but it’s something that I—and Charleaux—certainly don’t shout from the rooftops. I can’t be in all places at all times, so I hire competent people to manage my assets. Charleaux—and other individuals I’ve hired in similar positions—are better able to make daily decisions if the vast majority simply believe them to be owners.”
“Your sister did not mention that you owned property in town.” She had a peculiar expression on her face.
August hid a frown. “She’s only been to the Silver Swan once, and that was years ago, just after I purchased it and long before I had it renovated. Is it important?”
Clara muttered something that August didn’t catch. “Forget I mentioned it. Please, tell me about Miss Baker.”
August started forward again. “In truth, it is her older brother who is the crown jewel in the Baker family, as it were. A bloody wizard when it comes to managing stable yards and everything that goes with it. I poached him from one of the busiest coaching inns in London.”
“And he just agreed to leave?”
“Mr. Baker wished to be able to protect and ensure the well-being of his family. Something I could understand. At the time I hired him, his sister was only eight, his brother ten. My willingness to employ both his siblings and leave them under his tutelage has made him a loyal employee.” He paused. “And Miss Baker especially has proven herself an unexpected asset. She is a fine hand with horses.”
“I see.”
“I have developed it substantially. Kept the tavern, improved the dining room, and expanded the inn. It was in rather deplorable condition when I bought it, but the location is second to none. It is one of the first buildings a thirsty sailor happens upon and the first lodgings a weary traveler sees. Now that the wars are over, there has been a greater influx of passengers crossing to France. The shipping trade has similarly increased, and business is brisk.”
“I see.”
August glanced at her. She was saying that a lot.
“Come, let’s see if your brother has arrived. Will he have come by horse?” He glanced back at the yard, but the trio of Bakers was nowhere to be seen. He should have asked Miss Baker when he had the chance.
“I assume so.” Clara sounded distracted. “What else do you own?”
August waved his hand dismissively. “A collection of other investments. None of which will interest you, I’m sure.” He didn’t want to get into a long discussion of his holdings. Quite frankly, it would take all night, and it would detract from his objectives if they were discussing profit margins, taxes, and land titles. No, August needed to get the Haywards talking about the Haywards. And what he could do to make the Haywards happy and solve all their financial woes.
“Did you run out of money?” Clara said as they approached the door.
“I beg your pardon?”
She gestured above their heads to the sign hanging above the door. “The exterior has very clearly been repaired and upgraded, yet your sign looks like a holdover from the Children’s Crusade.”
August glanced up at the battered wooden sign that had come with the building. “What’s wrong with it?” It was still perfectly legible, if perhaps a little faded. Well, perhaps a lot faded and a little cracked at the bottom. And perhaps the bird looked more like a turkey than a swan. But it served its purpose. And it was familiar to the residents of Dover.
Clara shot him a dubious look. “You went to the trouble of improving this establishment but left it represented by a crooked flamingo?”