forward. Decision made—he’d come here to assess whether Etta Mason could do what he needed and now he knew for sure. So he’d shut down the feeling of attraction and start on the mission he’d set himself.
A few purposeful strides and he’d cut through the people who clustered around her. As he reached her side, surprise sparked in the exotic brown of her eyes.
‘Impressive speech.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I was wondering if I could have a word in private. We could stroll on the terrace before we eat.’
For a second he thought she’d refuse, in which case he’d fall back on his reserve plan, but after a fractional hesitation she nodded.
Five minutes later they stepped out into the clean, cold air and Etta gave a small gasp that undoubtedly denoted appreciation. ‘It’s beautiful!’
Potted greenery twinkled with fairy lights and lanterns hung over the tables dotted about the mosaic-paved terrace, casting a warm, magical glow whilst outdoor heaters combated the chill of the night air.
‘The Cavershams know how to throw a party. There’s outdoor dancing planned for later. It’s a shame you have to leave early.’
A sudden image of Etta Mason in his arms as they glided round the moonlit mosaic tiles pierced his brain with a strength that sent a tingle through his body. Without thought his feet carried him a step closer to her, and a tantalising overtone of her vanilla scent teased his senses.
‘Yes, it is.’
For a heartbeat he wondered if her mind had followed the same path as her brown gaze held his and flared with an intensity that caught his breath. Then the instant was over.
Her lips thinned and she muttered a ‘tcha’ under her breath before moving away from him towards the wooden railings that surrounded the terrace. Once there, she turned to face him, arms folded. ‘Why did you bring me out here?’
Her voice was tinged with suspicion—and who could blame her? Self-irritation coursed through his veins. He needed this woman in a professional capacity, and this conversation was way too important to risk it for the sake of a flare of thoroughly unprofessional attraction. Time to get back on track.
‘I need a historian and you fit the bill.’
Surprise creased her brow as she assessed his words. ‘Tell me more.’
Gabe kept his pose relaxed, indicating one of the wooden tables overhung with delicate white lit-up stars suspended from the glittering arbour. ‘Shall we sit?’
‘Sure.’ Etta walked over and lowered herself into the chair with a wary grace.
Gabe followed suit, taking the opportunity to marshal his thoughts and line his words up like troops.
‘I’d like you to put together a detailed family tree of the Derwent family, going back centuries. About eighteen months ago a much-publicised flood hit Derwent Manor and a lot of valuable items were destroyed—including a parchment that documented the basic Derwent family tree. A lot of the supporting documentation—ledgers that date back centuries—were also damaged and muddled up. Unfortunately I’ve now discovered that those records were never computerised. I’m sure some of the facts are a matter of public record but I wouldn’t have the first clue how to access them let alone piece them all together.’
She leant forward, those amber-flecked eyes sparking with interest now, and for a perverse moment he felt chagrin that they hadn’t been ignited by him.
‘So you want me to put your family tree back together?’
‘Yes. But in way more detail than the original.’
For centuries the dukedom had passed from father to son, and now that would come to an end. Which meant he needed to clamber up the family tree, delve down obscure branches and work out who might succeed to the dukedom after him, now that he knew he would never have a son of his own.
Frustration coated his insides. It was imperative that he understood his options—and fast. His father’s recent heart attack meant the Duke and Duchess wanted him, the heir, to marry and produce a son at speed. That couldn’t happen. But Gabe had no wish to trigger another heart attack in his father and the enormity of learning the truth might well do exactly that. So he had to come up with a strategy...a way to deal with it.
‘There is another stipulation. I need it done by Christmas. I realise that this is a big job to accomplish in only a few weeks, but I’ll do everything I can to help. As you may know my father recently suffered a heart attack. I’d like to present him with the family tree as a surprise gift.’
The animation left her face and she shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I have family commitments—I’m leaving the country in a couple of days on a five-week holiday.’
Disappointment weighed upon him. He’d done his research and Etta had seemed the perfect candidate. Now he’d met her, every instinct told him she would do the job right and fast. ‘Any chance you’d postpone? I’d amply compensate you and you can name your fee.’
‘It isn’t about money. I’m taking my daughter on a cruise.’
Daughter. Somehow it hadn’t crossed his mind that Etta might have a daughter—there had been no mention of a husband or children on her website—and for a second the idea of their existence twanged a chord of disappointment inside him. No. The whole attraction thing had been closed down. But on a professional level he wanted Etta Mason for the job. So...
‘You’re sure? Perhaps your husband could take your daughter and I’d pay for another family holiday.’
‘There is no husband. Thank you for the opportunity, but I really can’t accept the job.’
Now her words held regret, and a shadow that betokened disappointment clouded the amber of her eyes. Gabe frowned. Maybe he could change her mind—cruise or no cruise, he sensed she wanted the job. Time to utilise his reserve plan.
As if on cue the dinner gong pealed out and he rose to his feet. ‘We’d better go in.’
* * *
Etta swallowed down a sigh. To trace the Derwent family tree ranked up there with her ideal job. Gabriel Derwent had offered her the opportunity to access papers and records of the past, to piece together a lineage that stretched back over centuries and complete a jigsaw puzzle of historical import, to lose herself in the life of people who had existed in times gone by.
On top of that a high-profile case like this would have boosted her reputation and it would have paid well. Nothing to sneeze at if ousting Tommy from her life ever involved a need for legal aid.
Tommy. Fear shivered through Etta—she would not let Tommy become part of their lives again. Nothing could compare with the importance of removing Cathy from Tommy’s orbit. So this golden opportunity would have to be passed by. Yet disappointment twinged, compounded by an inexplicable feeling of chagrin that he looked so calm. Which was further complicated by a memory of that moment on the terrace—that heartbeat of time when she had been aware of him with an intensity that had rocked her senses.
So all in all it was a relief to re-enter the warmth and grandeur of the hotel and join the throng of
