Free Argent (Hundred Days Series Book 3) by Baird Wells Page A

He stopped arranging his hand and gave her his full attention. “You do not have to explain yourself, make an excuse.”
              She took a breath, pressing on. “I'm not. I had a wonderful time with you.” It was true. Uncomfortable to admit, but she was not ashamed.
                  “Help me understand the enigma that is Mrs. Rowan.” Spencer leaned in, squinting, staring into her eyes until his gaze drew her close. Then he leaned back, looking satisfied. “She's in there, my lady from the garden. Where does she hide?”
                  He was still a stranger, and John's friend. She would tread carefully. Mistaken trust could spell her end, now when she was so close to freedom. “My brother and Lord Hastings are both relying on this partnership,” she offered weakly. “I don’t wish to make a poor impression.”
                  “Bollocks.” Spencer leaned further back in his chair, feet bumping hers beneath the table, and crossed his arms.
                  “Really,” she chastised, face aching with a smile at his swear.
                  Fanning his cards, Spencer shook his head. “I do not believe for a moment that you're a woman who holds her tongue to skirt a little bickering.”
                  Thanks to a long draw on her brandy, she found her nerve. “Paulina's father, Silas Van der Verre, owns a majority of Paton Shipping. A majority of my brother.” She shrugged, picking up her hand. “And me.” A safe, if oversimplified explanation.
                  He sat quiet a moment, the look on his face contemplative. “Seems that should be more your brother's complication than yours.”
                  It should have been. Another woman would have married and moved away, left Chas and Paton Shipping to their fate. Any woman not as invested as she was hunted. “My father built Paton & Son with his blood and sweat, no exaggeration. My mother's pedigree opened a few doors for us, but she came to America with nothing. Silas would shred our family’s business for profit as much as to make a point. He is shredding it. His success would gut me.”
                  “You could marry. It offers some protection,” he argued.
                  No dowry, no means, and not a waking moment to herself; hardly a recipe for finding a husband. There was no space to breathe out from under Silas’s bullying, his threats.
    It was more tangled than Spencer could possibly comprehend and too shameful for her to explain.
                  She slapped down a card, knocked to end her turn and sat back. “I'd like to discuss something else.” She braced for more digging, resistance.
                  Spencer ducked his head. “As the lady wishes. Name your subject, then.”
                  She slid a card on top of his. “Why are you hiding here?” She had watched the way he arranged his days to avoid company, hustling from one place to another always ahead of or behind the crowd. And, of course, she had gleaned all that she could from Laurel.
                  “Hiding?” He shifted in his chair, eyes focused on cards he must have memorized by now. “I am not hiding.”
                  “Laurel says that you are.”
                  He studied her above his cards, brow arched. “I am a regular topic of conversation between the two of you, then?”
                  A second mouthful of brandy on an empty stomach made her bold. “As often as possible.”
                  It was true. Laurel was an encyclopedia where Spencer was concerned, handy with some detail or anecdote in nearly every conversation. Alix was eager for each and every one.
                  “Spies in my camp,” he grumbled, trumping her play with a smug flick of his ace. “Anyhow, I am not hiding. I go to London when I