Rafe couldn’t believe how hard this was. He had been expecting... What had he been expecting? He felt out of his depth, out of balance, disoriented. She was so unreachable, so tightly contained, he felt like an invisible wall was around her.
‘I’ve come to a decision,’ Poppy said. ‘You can buy the dower house. I don’t want it any more. It should never have been separated from the manor. They belong together.’
Rafe blinked to reorient himself. ‘How much do you want?’
‘Twenty-five percent above market value.’
He let out a slowly measured breath. ‘You drive a hard bargain.’
‘I had a very good teacher.’
He searched her features for any sign of a chink in that shiny new armour but she was as hard as nails. He felt a sinkhole of sadness open up inside him. She’d had a very good teacher indeed.
He had done that to her.
‘I’ll get my secretary to tee things up,’ he said.
‘Fine.’
There was another clunky silence.
‘Is there anything else?’ Her tone was impatient and unfriendly. Rafe recognised it, for he had used it a thousand times when he had wanted to dismiss someone who was taking up too much of his precious time.
‘No.’ He gave her a tight, formal smile. ‘That’s about it.’
She didn’t return his smile. She didn’t even wait until he’d turned his back to go back down the path before she shut the door.
Rafe stared at the wood panelling for a moment. He toyed with the idea of knocking and starting over, but he dismissed the thought before it took hold.
It was better this way. He’d got what he wanted; she was selling him the dower house.
Goal.
Focus.
Win.
But it was ironic that the victory, now he had it, didn’t taste so sweet.
* * *
‘Any luck on tracking down that rehab woman Lily Archer?’ Rafe asked his secretary when he got back to London after he’d taken Raoul to his villa in Normandy.
‘Yes, but apparently she doesn’t work with male clients,’ Margaret said.
Rafe exhaled in irritation. ‘Then get her to change her mind. I don’t care how much it costs.’
‘How is Raoul?’
‘The same.’ He scraped a hand through his hair. ‘Won’t eat. Barely drinks. Just sits there brooding all the time.’
‘A bit like you, then.’
Rafe’s brows snapped together. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Margaret gave him a knowing look. ‘You remind me of one of my sons. He’s an all-or-nothing thinker. He doesn’t know how to compromise. It doesn’t have to be either-or, Rafe. You can help Raoul and be happy in your love life.’
‘I don’t have a love life.’ He strode over to the window and looked at the dismal weather outside.