‘You’ve done well for yourself, Dare,’ the Baron said as they were all seated at the large dining table.
‘Unlike my loser father, you mean?’
The Baron sighed. ‘I didn’t mean to sound as if I was passing judgment.’ He moved aside as a plate was placed in front of him. ‘Though you do seem to have inherited your father’s acerbic wit.’
Score one for the older gentleman, Carly thought, completely disconcerted when she glanced across the table to find Dare staring at her.
‘That’s not all I inherited,’ Dare bit out tautly.
‘Duck à l’orange,’ the Baron said, inhaling the fragrance as the servant stepped back. ‘My favourite.’
Carly gave him a secret smile. ‘I do relent sometimes,’ she teased.
‘This is all very nice,’ Dare bit out, not hiding the fact that he didn’t think it was nice at all. ‘But I didn’t come here to discuss food or to make small talk.’
Tension crossed the table like laser beams.
‘I can see that,’ the Baron said. He put down his fork. ‘What did you come for, Dare? To put me in my place?’
‘It’s no less than you deserve.’
‘I’m not going to argue with you about that,’ Benson said quietly, ‘but you have to understand I’ve only recently become abridged of your father’s death. And of the fact that Rachel must have struggled for years afterwards. That she even had a child. You!’
‘And you think that entitles you to contact her?’ Dare said with barely leashed fury. ‘You rejected her. You kicked her out when she chose my father over your archaic expectations. But she doesn’t need you now. She’s doing fine.’
‘Thanks to you,’ Benson acknowledged softly.
‘My mother is a strong woman with high morals. She would have made it fine without me.’
Completely shocked by Dare’s revelations, Carly felt like an interloper with no idea how to ease the tension between the two men.
‘Perhaps we should save this conversation for when we’re alone.’ The Baron touched Carly’s hand as he spoke and she realised she had a forkful of food held halfway to her mouth. ‘There’s no need to ruin Carly’s appetite, hmm?’
‘But it was okay to ruin my mother’s life?’ Dare’s gaze was harsh when it landed on her again and her heart thumped behind her breastbone. ‘By all means.’ He stabbed a morsel of food on his plate. ‘Let’s not upset the lovely Carly. Tell me, Miss Evans, how long have you known my grandfather?’
Clearing her throat, and glad for the opportunity to turn the conversation away from the Baron in case it ratcheted up his blood pressure, Carly smiled politely. ‘A few months now.’ She had met Benson at a nearby clinic when he’d first presented with breathing problems and when he’d learned she was temping he’d requested her services.
‘And when did you move in?’
Distracted by his mesmerising blue eyes, she took a sip of her sparkling wine. ‘Three weeks ago. I...’ She stopped, realising that she was about to reveal the reason for her stay. ‘I—’
‘I know of Carly’s family,’ Benson cut in to save her. ‘A happy coincidence really. Our ancestors fought together against the Jacobite Rebellion in 1715. Carly is the relative of a famous viscount.’
Dare curled his lip as if he couldn’t have cared if she were directly in line to the throne. And her heritage hardly counted when she was the distant cousin of a cousin, and her family had lived a very humble existence for well over a century now.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ Roberts said, approaching Benson. ‘A phone call has come through. I think you’ll want to take it.’
‘Fine, Roberts. Thank you.’
Looking irritated at the interruption, Benson pushed to his feet and took the hands-free phone proffered by the butler. He frowned in Carly and Dare’s direction. ‘I apologise for this interruption.’
As soon as the door closed behind him Carly was acutely aware of the antique clock ticking away in the corner of the room and the lean, powerful male regarding her across the table.