Page 33 of RAKEish

Before he could respond, his intercom beeped. “What?”

“Mr. Landshire, I’m sorry to bother you, but your father is on line three. He says it’s urgent.”

He glanced at Ms. Birdie. “Do you mind?” Urgent for Father could be nothing more than needing to know the answer to a crossword puzzle clue, but still, it could also be something awful.

Ms. Birdie smiled. “I have a party to organize. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

He picked up the phone and waited for Ms. Birdie to shut his door before he replied to Char. “Put him through.”

His phone rang. “Your Majesty, to what do I owe the pleasure of a phone call from you in the middle of the day?”

“There is no pleasure to be had in this call,” the King of Shiretopia blustered. “In fact, it pains me greatly to have been placed in a position where this call could not be avoided.”

Scott thrummed the fingers of his free hand on his desk. He knew this tone of voice. It was usually reserved for when Mildred insisted Father discipline Scott for a misdeed that Father did not find as loathsome as his second wife did. “I’m sorry to hear that, Father. What business is at hand that has you so uncharacteristically disgruntled?”

“It’s a private matter that I do not wish to broach over the phone. As such, I will be in New York, New York on Saturday to discuss it with you.”

Scott grinned at the way Father insisted on referring to Manhattan as New York, New York. “Father, I’m in the middle of a big assignment with the magazine. I’m afraid this weekend is not an option. Perhaps early June would be a better time for you to visit.”

“Change your plans,” Father ordered. “This cannot wait. Hell, it may not wait until Saturday. We will talk more when I arrive. Good day.”

Before Scott could offer a rebuttal, the phone went dead. Unease had him picking up his cell and calling his best friend, Mark, who still lived in Shiretopia. It went straight to voicemail. “Bloody hell,” Scott muttered. He disconnected and called Mark’s soon-to-be fiancée, Rose. It went straight to voicemail. He hung up and texted them both.

Father is coming to town. Are there any new developments I should be made aware of before he lands?—Scott

The three of them were walking a tightrope. One wrong move could spell disaster and become a bigger scandal even than the time Father had thumbed his nose at his fate and instead eloped with Mum. Rose was Mark’s future bride, all right…if all went according to plan.

If not, she was Scott’s bride-to be, via an arranged marriage.

He really needed things to go according to plan.

CHAPTER 11

“Quite the choice Frankie had for the location of your third lesson in seduction,” Scott said, glancing around The Gilded Lily as he pulled out a chair for Doc. He’d been surprised when he’d discovered Dragon Lady had chosen the location. The atmosphere didn’t lend itself to instructing a person on romance. It was more geared toward falling in love with the one you’re dining with.

“I feel like I’ve stepped into another world,” Doc whispered, taking a seat. “Every person’s laugh sounds prep school perfect.”

He understood why Doc felt intimidated. The small restaurant was a fortress of wealth. The people who dined here were the type who owned things like banks or small countries. If one listened carefully, they could hear the clink of money being made over the clatter of silverware. The diamonds worn on the fingers of the ladies present could fund Ms. Birdie’s fairy godmother habit for a year.

“Oh,” Doc said, looking startled by his sliding into the seat next to her rather than the expected one across the table.

“Being this close is crucial.” He spoke in a hushed tone. “I wouldn’t want all my strategies to become public knowledge.”

“I call bullshit.” She gave him a bland look. “They’re already public knowledge. You’ve written about them in your columns.”

“A man never shares all of his secrets.”

“Interesting…or at least, I hope the secret strategies are better than the ones you’ve shared,” she teased.

He liked that their hostility toward one another had turned into something else. Something comfortable. He watched Doc as she took in the lavish surroundings.

“I feel like a fish out of water,” she confessed when she turned back to him, her brows puckered.

“That’s part of the lesson.” He resisted an urge to smooth her brow with his fingers. “Rakes are naturally drawn to a woman who can hold her own in opulent settings—someone adept at navigating the worlds of both old money elitists and new money innovators. Last night, you hung out with the new money crowd. Tonight is the old money. Try to enjoy the experience.”

Doc burst into an unexpected, hearty laugh. A laugh louder and more uninhibited than anything Scott had heard from her before. One more out of place than someone wearing white at a royal funeral.

Scott loved it. Her unguarded moment, so starkly contrasting with the poised environment of the restaurant, was refreshing in his world. He raised a brow and waited for her to explain.

---