Page 45 of The Chef and the Countess

Liam pulled back his arm to punch Shinwell again, but Bruce’s massive hand closed over his fist. They locked gazes, and Bruce shook his head and mouthed, ‘Stand down.’

Seething, Liam returned to his seat. He had already lost control of the situation. That was on him.

Darrington pointed to his son. “You, keep it shut. There will be no more outbursts.”

Shinwell held his hand over his right eye and glowered at Liam. Liam grumbled in response. Bloody hell, he despised this family—especially the son—after Celia had confided about her past living in this house.

“Everyone settle down,” Darrington admonished as he sat. “Now, as to your proposal, I will give you the address, the money he stole, and 20 pounds.”

“45.”

“25,” Darrington responded.

“35, and it is done.”

“I agree.”

“One more thing. My shed was deliberately set ablaze last night. Did you have anything to do with it?”

Darrington looked genuinely surprised. “No. I did not.” The earl’s gaze slid to Shinwell. “Troy?”

“Burning a shed?” Shinwell scoffed. “I have better things to do on a Saturday night.”

Liam’s eyes narrowed. “If the address you give me is fake, or anything else untoward happens to my business or the people who work for me, this deal is null and void. The full amount will be due again with interest. And I will collect. Mark my words. Billy Buck.”

Darrington smiled slyly. “How crafty of you. We must have mutual acquaintances. I can respect that.”

“The fire brigade reported the arson to the Met Police. They asked me for names of suspects.” Liam inclined his head toward Shinwell. “I’ll give the peelers his name if the deal is broken in any way. This is not a threat, just a statement of fact.”

The earl pursed his lips. “You have made your point. We can do business.” Darrington opened his desk drawer, grabbed his pen, dipped it in the inkwell, and then scribbled something on paper. “My wife’s address. I cannot guarantee she will be there now, as she is traveling. But she will return to this address before she comes home. I tell you this to make you understand a reply may not be imminent.”

“Fine.”

Darrington reached into his bottom desk drawer and brought forth a money box. He opened it and counted out pound notes. “Thirty-five pounds plus the five pounds he took. I rounded up.” The earl slid the money and the piece of paper across the desk. “Do I need a receipt drawn up?”

“Aye. Just write out the transaction, and we’ll sign it. One copy for me, one for you. My acquaintance said your word on the streets is reliable enough.”

“Did he?” Darrington pulled out two pieces of paper and hastily wrote on them. “Come here and sign the papers.”

Liam came to stand beside Darrington and bent to write his name.

“Listen closely,” Darrington whispered. “I could take the knife from my drawer and pin your hand to the desk. Try stirring a pot of soup with a permanently injured hand. It can’t be done. However, I won’t—not this time. Do not come near me and mine ever again.”

Liam continued to write his name on the second sheet of paper. “And that goes for me,” Liam murmured menacingly. “Keep your toad of a son from my property; he’s banned. If I see him, I will not be responsible for my actions—or Bruce’s. We don’t want to take a war to the streets.”

Liam stood upright, grabbed the papers and the money, and turned to leave.

“Then we understand each other!” the earl called out.

Liam gave a mocking bow. “Perfectly!” He motioned to Bruce. “Come on. I need a breath of fresh air.”

Once outside, Liam smiled. Yes, he did not collect the total amount owed, but in his mind, he came out ahead. He could just imagine Celia’s joy at being able to contact her aunt.

And he would do anything for Celia. Anything.

* * *

“You did it, the fire?” William roared.