Catherine nodded. “I didn’t realize you were so connected with the company.”
“I thought it unnecessary information. My personal investment doesn’t affect the company much.”
“But I still would have liked to know.”
“Would that have changed your mind? Or your research?” Lord Bircham asked, as he lifted his teacup.
Catherine answered, “No.” He had a point.
“Besides, I–I don’t feel we have started off well. Your suspicions are understandable.” He sipped his tea. “By my way of thinking, if you knew of my personal investment, you’d be less likely to approve of it yourself, based solely on the knowledge that I approved.”
“That’s a rather spiteful accusation,” Catherine warned, but she also silently agreed with his words.
“Is it wrong?” he asked.
Catherine debated how to address the question. She had been frank from the beginning, so she decided to continue with that same honesty. “No. You’re absolutely right. I’m hesitant to admit such a thing to you since you’ve made it abundantly clear you think little of my intelligence and opinion.”
Lord Bircham paused in setting down his cup and regarded her for a moment before finishing his task. “I see.”
“Do you?” Catherine remarked, arching a brow.
Lord Bircham had the good sense to appear abashed. “You’re correct, and I…have been mistaken. You’ve proven yourself wise and discerning. True, it’s more than I anticipated, but I’m not so boorish that I can’t amend my opinion.”
Catherine regarded him, testing his expression for authenticity. Seeing nothing that left her suspicions of his ulterior motive, she nodded. “Thank you.”
He nodded.
Mrs. Burke passed by as she walked to the door of the parlor, offering a soft excuse as she ducked out into the hall and closing the door behind her.
“Strange,” Catherine muttered, then turned to Lord Bircham.
“She has a good heart. You’d do better to give her a chance,” he remarked.
“Lord Bircham, you’ll find I take advice far better when it’s solicited or offered without a condescending pitch.” Catherine’s ire was rising.
He nodded. “Very well. Good Lord, I’ve never met a more opinionated lady,” he stated. “Mrs. Burke is a fine chaperone and far kinder than you seem to think. It might be in your best interest to give her a chance.” He waved his hand as if tossing the words to the middle of the sparring ring, offering them for criticism.
“Thank you,” Catherine replied. “I will admit that she has been oddly friendly this morning. I’m not sure why…”
Brooks knocked on the door and then opened it, casting a warning expression to Lord Bircham as he did so. “My lady, His Grace and the Duchess of Wesley have arrived and wish to speak to you. They say it’s urgent.” He regarded Lord Bircham with distrust, clearly wondering if he was divulging too much information.
Catherine frowned, then turned to Lord Bircham. “If you don’t mind, I believe we’ll conclude our meeting.”
“Of course, I understand.” He stood.
“And Brooks, please show them in,” Catherine requested.
The butler disappeared.
Lord Bircham lifted his cane and bowed. “It’s my hope that whatever urgent business needs to be discussed isn’t anything too serious. If you need my assistance, you know where to find me.” He paused, then bit his lip with suppressed humor. “I believe that now that we understand each other, you will have less hesitation in the future.”
Catherine smiled in return, but was preoccupied with whatever news was forthcoming from Quin and the Duchess of Wesley. “Of course.”
“Good day.” He started toward the door, bowing to the Duchess of Wesley and Quin as they started to enter.
“You bastard!” Quin swore in a low voice, and before Lord Bircham could question the epithet, Quin reared back and gave a roundhouse punch to Bircham’s gut, dropping the man to the floor.
“Quin!” Catherine rushed forward, wondering what could have happened to create such a reaction in Quin.