Free Lady Beware by Jo Beverley Page B

been trained for, but he believed in understanding things for which he was responsible. The hollow rap of the door knocker brought him out of a particularly bewildering column of numbers.
    Had he relaxed too soon?
    He listened to Prussock’s heavy footsteps trudging toward the front door, faint voices, and then footsteps coming his way. A knock.
    â€œEnter.”
    Prussock did so. “A gentleman to see you, milord,” he said, disgruntled. Clearly visitors were an imposition.
    Darien rose, pulling himself into readiness. “Who?”
    â€œA Lord Vandeimen, milord.”
    The wash of relief blanked his mind for a moment, but then the novelty of the situation struck. Van would be his first guest. Where should he receive him?
    The reception room and drawing room were still under Holland covers, as was the sitting room that was part of his father’s suite. He’d refused to use those rooms. He’d also rejected the large bedroom that had been Marcus’s, even though every trace of the past had been removed.
    As a result he was using the third bedroom. It was modest in size and he’d done nothing to fancy it up. Before he could decide, Van appeared in the doorway, lean, blond, and with the long scar down his cheek. “Thinking how to have me thrown out?” he asked, with a smile but not entirely in jest.
    Darien laughed and went forward to shake his hand. “Only where to put you. I’m virtually camping out here, but I have supplies. Ale, wine, tea, coffee?”
    â€œCoffee, thank you,” Van said, looking around the office.
    Darien sent the curious Prussock off with the order.
    â€œI know—Spartan. When my father died, the executor removed all the viscountcy’s papers that were here. I haven’t bothered to get most of them back. There were some books, but those that weren’t out-of-date almanacs and such were thoroughly depraved. I had the Prussocks burn the lot.”
    â€œWhat’re the odds they sold them for a tidy price?”
    Darien grinned. “A dead certainty. It’s good to see you, Van.”
    Van smiled, but said, “Then I could ask why I haven’t seen you sooner. Until I heard you were at the Yeovil ball last night, I didn’t know you were in Town.”
    â€œSettling in,” Darien offered as a vague excuse. “Shall we attempt the drawing room? There is one, but it’s still under wraps.”
    â€œThen why disturb the shrouds?” Van took one of the saggy-seat chairs by the empty fireplace. “How are you?”
    Darien took the other chair, beginning to be wary. Van would be here out of friendship, no question, but he could still be on business connected to last night. Van had his own connection to the Rogues.
    â€œWell enough, all things considered,” he answered. “And you? Marriage suiting you? And fatherhood?” Darien had been astonished last year to hear that Van had married a wealthy, and older, widow. Widow of a merchant, no less. But he’d inherited estates in even worse state than his own.
    â€œExcellently,” Van said. “I recommend both.”
    Before Darien could continue with such distractions, Van asked, “Did you deliberately avoid me last night?”
    â€œDirect and to the point as always. Of course I did. I was the leper at the feast and I’d no mind to contaminate you.”
    â€œI never thought you quixotic. But if you were a leper, you’re cured. You’re the Duchess of Yeovil’s darling. Except that you didn’t linger to be crowned with glory.”
    â€œPut her nose out of joint, have I?”
    Van’s brows twitched. “Only puzzled her. Why?”
    â€œI don’t care to be blubbered over.”
    â€œWhat precisely is going on?”
    Darien was tempted to tell Van everything, but only for a moment. He truly didn’t want any friend tangled in this, and there might be aspects that he didn’t want Van to