His Scandalous Mistress: The Master's Mistress / Count Toussaint's Pregnant Mistress / Castellano's Mistress of Revenge. Кейт Хьюит

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       CHAPTER EIGHT

      ‘THANK you, Mrs Baines.’ Rogan smiled up at the housekeeper later that evening as she put a plate of roast beef in front of him, after placing the vegetable dishes on the middle of the table. ‘This smells delicious.’

      ‘Thank you, Mr Sullivan.’The housekeeper was still very pale, and her eyes were red-rimmed, as if from crying. ‘It was your father’s favourite,’ she added huskily.

      ‘How’s Brian nowadays?’Rogan deliberately changed the subject to the housekeeper’s son, having no intention of getting involved in any sort of conversation that might involve his having to be polite about his father. Besides, he was genuinely interested. Brian was a few years older than Rogan, but the two of them had always been quite friendly towards each other during the five years they’d both lived at Sullivan House.

      Mrs Baines’s expression brightened slightly. ‘Very well, thank you, Mr Sullivan. He lives up in Scotland now, with his wife and young baby.’

      Rogan grimaced. ‘That must make it difficult for you to see them as often as you would like.’

      ‘He has his own life to lead,’ the housekeeper accepted with a resigned shrug.

      Rogan nodded. ‘Tell him I said hello when you next speak to him.’

      ‘I’ll do that.’ Mrs Baines nodded before quietly taking her leave.

      ‘I suppose Mrs Baines will have to find new employment once you’ve sold Sullivan House?’ Elizabeth commented as the two of them helped themselves to vegetables.

      ‘The implication being you expect me to just throw her out into the street?’ Rogan said curtly.

      ‘It’s none of my business—’

      ‘No, it isn’t!’ he rasped.

      Elizabeth raised reproving brows. ‘She was very upset when your father died.’

      Rogan’s mouth twisted ruefully. ‘More so than me, I guess.’ He cut into the delicious-looking beef.

      ‘That wouldn’t have been difficult,’ she said pointedly.

      ‘Elizabeth, if you’re trying to kill my appetite again you’re going about it in exactly the right way,’ he warned.

      But Elizabeth was too exhausted to be deliberately provocative, after hours of checking and double-checking both the books that had been on the floor and then those still on the shelves.

      She was so tired that she hadn’t even bothered to change before joining Rogan for dinner.

      Although even in her tired and therefore vulnerable state, she was very aware that Rogan had once again changed for dinner. The long length of his dark hair was brushed back and resting silkily on his shoulders, and tailored black trousers and a black silk shirt once again made him appear like those dark predators in the books she read…

      She sighed. ‘I was only attempting to make conversation.’

      ‘Take my advice: attempt to make it about something else!’ His mouth was set in a grim line as he resumed eating his meal.

      ‘As far as I can tell, the Darwin, the Dickens and the Chaucer are all missing,’ she came back tartly.

      Rogan’s gaze narrowed as he sat back in his chair to look across the table at her. ‘That’s certainly a change of subject!’

      Elizabeth gave an unconcerned shrug. ‘You didn’t specify that I change it to something pleasant.’

      ‘No, I didn’t, did I?’ Rogan eyed her appreciatively. ‘So, you think they’re all missing?’

      ‘I know they are,’ she corrected firmly. ‘I’ve stacked and checked every book thrown onto the floor. Double-checked, in fact. I’ve also looked through all the books on the shelves. Again, twice. None of those books are there.’

      ‘You have been busy,’ Rogan murmured admiringly. ‘Why only those books, I wonder… ?’ he mused as he once again attempted to eat his meal.

      Elizabeth had been wondering the same thing. Admittedly, the Darwin was probably the most valuable book in the Sullivan collection, but there had been several others in the glass bookcase that were also worth a considerable amount of money. None of those books had been missing.

      ‘Perhaps I was the one that stole them, after all?’ she suggested lightly.

      Rogan eyed her from beneath raised brows. ‘I doubt you would have mentioned them to me at all if that was your intention. Besides, you and I both know there is no way you could ever have thrown all those other books onto the floor in an effort to cover up your crime.’

      ‘No,’ Elizabeth acknowledged heavily, only picking at her own food, still upset by the events of the day. ‘But surely your everyday burglar would have taken more than those three books?’

      ‘Is there such a thing as an “everyday burglar”?’ Rogan teased.

      Her eyes flashed deeply blue. ‘You know exactly what I meant!’

      Yes, unfortunately Rogan did know exactly what Elizabeth meant. Which narrowed down the identity of the burglar considerably…

      He shook his head. ‘Just forget about it, Elizabeth.’

      ‘Forget about it?’ she echoed incredulously. ‘I’ve just spent the entire day establishing that those specific books have definitely been stolen—’

      ‘And I’m very grateful for your attention to detail,’ Rogan cut in harshly. ‘Now, can we just move on?’

      ‘Move—? Rogan—’

      ‘Elizabeth!’ He glowered at her darkly.

      Elizabeth eyed Rogan in disbelief. ‘But—’

      ‘Don’t you have some more questions you would like to ask about why my mail still goes to New York but I no longer live there?’ he interrupted.

      She had lots of unasked questions on that particular subject. But as a means of ending their previous conversation it was rather too obvious. ‘Not when I know they’re questions you have no intention of answering, no,’ she replied.

      ‘You don’t know that for sure.’ Rogan grinned across at her unapologetically. Strangely, he found these conversations СКАЧАТЬ