Free Athena's Ordeal by Sue London Page A

noticed. She seemed more reticent than usual, but he supposed it was her tiring day of hiking around the countryside.
    After the wine was poured he asked, "Are your rooms comfortable?"
    She nodded. "Indeed. It's a beautiful estate."
    "Thank you. Keeping Belle Fleur was one of my few vanities."
    She gave him a confused look. “What does that mean, your grace?”
    "For all that you lived in Giddy's pockets for a fortnight he didn't speak of me?"
    At that she rolled her eyes. "Oh yes, they spoke of you."
    Quince couldn't help the burst of laughter. "Then what did they say that earned your disdain?"
    "They made you sound boring and saintly."
    "Boring and saintly?" he mused. "When you add poor to that list it does make me sound rather like a vicar."
    "Poor?" she asked, looking around the room.
    "Perhaps not compa red to most, but for a duke? I am veritably in the poor house."
    "But..." she trailed off, obviously at a loss.
    "Worry not. Gideon has taken it on as his mission to ensure that all is straightened out."
    "I thought... I thought that you and earl had been at odds for some time."
    Quince smiled. "If you think something like a political feud would keep Gideon Wolfe from helping his friends then I submit that you don't know him."
    "That's very odd."
    "There are some weeks where we spend all Monday shouting at each other across the House, but on Friday he still pesters my man of business to review the books. Perhaps some weeks he won't talk to me, but he will always talk to my man of business."
    "Why do you even let him have such access to your accounts?"
    "Why wouldn't I? I detest paperwork. Gideon loves it."
    She looked puzzled.
    "I've disappointed you now, haven't I?"
    "I'm just confused over why you wouldn't want to have control over your own interests."
    He shrugged. "Ultimately I do."
    "If I were you, I wouldn't be satisfied with that."
    He tapped his finger on his wineglass. "Yes, I think we may not be much alike, you and I."'
    "How boring would the world be if everyone were alike?"
    Quince smiled, finding himself amused by her observation.
    "Do you need me to look at your papers?" she pressed.
    He cocked a brow at her. "What would you do with them?"
    "That depends on what I find in them. But certainly some attention to the goings-on of your estates is better than none."
    Quince waved a hand. "I have men for that."
    "And the earl is their only oversight?"
    "Why does this bother you so?"
    "I'm hopeful that it bothers you."
    "Not in the least."
    She frowned. "You want to complain that you're poor, but you don't want to do anything about it?"
    "Why do you think I'm not doing anything about it?"
    "It seems evident. Do you have any idea how much the candles burning in this room cost?"
    "Do you?"
    She scanned the room, turning in her chair to see all of the candles that were burning. "Four pounds, provided that you burn them all down tonight."
    "Your talents run to pricing candles?"
    "I was raised to run a household. Awareness of household expenses is a key component of that."
    "Somehow I doubt that a viscount's daughter will need to run a household that scrimps on candlewax."
    She gave him a speaking look. "Well, I suppose one never knows."
    "I share these insights about my financial condition so that you may know how unsuitable a match that I am."
    "As though I couldn't figure that out for myself?"'
    "You seem a bit slow on the subject, yes."
    "You think that's why I'm still here, to convince you of the suitability of our match?"
    "I know that's why you're still here."
    "Really? It couldn't be, as I originally said, to help you?"
    "There has been nothing said on that front for three full days. Certainly you would have tired of waiting and taken yourself elsewhere by now if that were your only goal."
    "I thought you needed time to decide if you trusted me before you would share your issue with me."
    "And why should I trust you?"
    "Why shouldn't you?"
    That was the question. She was Bittlesworth's daughter, but seemed to