Free Bedding The Baron by Alexandra Ivy Page B

invitation to dine at his home.
    He could only suppose the old bugger had experienced a belated sense of guilt at greeting his son with all the pleasure of a tooth-drawer. Or, more likely, he wanted to make sure that Fredrick had no intention of lingering near Oak Manor for any extended length of time.
    In either case it at least offered the opportunity to pursue his original goal in coming to Wessex.
    Leaving his mount in the hands of a groom, Fredrick entered the manor house and allowed a subdued Morgan to lead him to the back parlor where he found his father standing beside a long row of windows surveying the garden below.
    For a moment, Fredrick hovered uncertainly on the threshold. As always he felt that tense, slightly sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when in the presence of his father. It was not that Lord Graystone was a frightening man. Like Fredrick he possessed a slender build and mild temperament.
    But even as a young child Fredrick had been able to sense the terse discomfort that plagued Lord Graystone whenever he was in the company of his son.
    As if it were only by grim determination that he could even bear a few moments in Fredrick’s presence.
    With a shake of his head, Fredrick resisted the urge to turn on his heel and rush from the estate. He was no longer a child to be hurt by his father’s dislike. He was a man who had come on a mission.
    One that he wanted done with so that he could return to London and his waiting business.
    Perhaps sensing he was no longer alone, Lord Graystone slowly turned, his pale blue eyes briefly darkening with some indefinable emotion before he managed to paste a stiff smile to his lips.
    “Fredrick, thank you for joining me.”
    Refusing to appear a coward, Fredrick forced himself to cross the Persian carpet to stand in the center of the room.
    “I must admit I was surprised to receive your invitation,” he said, his tone carefully bland. “Yesterday I sensed that you were not best pleased with my presence.”
    The older man flinched, almost as if Fredrick had managed to strike a nerve. “It was not that. Never that. I was simply . . . caught off guard.”
    Fredrick’s lips twisted. “Yes, of course. I should have sent a letter warning you that I would be in the neighborhood and awaited a proper invitation. But my business came up unexpectedly and it seemed—”
    “Fredrick, you will always have an invitation to this house,” his father interrupted in a harsh voice. “If I have ever made you think otherwise then I am sorry.”
    It was Fredrick’s turn to be caught off guard and he blinked in astonishment. It was the first time his father had ever indicated that he was anything more than an intruder that must be endured.
    “Thank you, Father.”
    An awkward silence descended as Lord Graystone seemed to battle within himself as to how to treat the stranger that was his son. With an obvious effort, he moved toward a satinwood sideboard and busied himself with pouring out two small measures from the crystal decanter.
    “Will you join me in a sherry?”
    “Yes, thank you.”
    Handing Fredrick the small glass, Lord Graystone stepped back, his gaze running over Fredrick’s well-tailored grey jacket and black breeches.
    “It is obvious that London agrees with you,” he murmured.
    Fredrick gave a faint shrug, thrusting aside his simmering resentment that unlike his half-brother, his own success had been hard won.
    If he were to discover anything of value he would have to somehow lure his father into a sense of comfort.
    “I have managed to survive,” he said lightly.
    “More than survive I should say.” A smile touched the older man’s lips. “I had always thought that engineers did no more than build bridges, but you seem to have a wide variety of interests.”
    Fredrick hid his stab of surprise. He would have bet his last quid that his father did not know he had created his own business, let alone that he was an engineer.
    “I have built my share of