8. Zeth #3
“Zeth…” Amby exhaled, his fingers uncurling in my jacket. He placed his palms against my chest and pushed slightly. “Let me go.”
When my hand released his hair, he shoved me away with enough force to make me stagger back. Like the dog he thought I was, the bastard.
A door opened a second later, and a polite voice asked, “Am I interrupting?”
Both of us froze with guilt before spinning to where Anna stood in a pretty blue dress that no doubt cost a month of my former salary.
Amby was quick. He smoothed out his hair with a chagrined expression. “Annabelle, you look beautiful this morning.” Then he stepped forward and nodded at her. “Zeth and I were just discussing pottery. Who knew he was so good with history?”
“Because I’m an auctioneer and appraiser,” I clarified with some spite. Not a thief.
Amby turned and regarded me with a mixture of surprise and doubt. Of course he thought I was lying. That’s what crooks did, lied and stole.
He wasn’t completely wrong to doubt me, because I was lying slightly. I lost my job. I was fibbing by omission, and felt bad about it, but Amby wasn’t innocent either.
“Ambrose broke your figurine.” I pointed a thumb at him before clasping my hands behind my back to hide the head.
Caught, Amby stiffened. He stared at Anna and her eyes widened, a teacher-marm expression that had Amby clearing his throat before swiftly saying, “My sincerest apologies, Annabelle. I-I can reimburse you for it, or perhaps we can go to town so you can pick something else out to replace it?”
Weaseling another date out of his error? Tossing around his money. Perfect play.
Anna was smart. Did she not see through Amby’s insincerity?
Her smoothing brow said she didn’t. Typical. Being a cute, rich boy had always excused Amby’s misconduct while I received the blame. I was named the troublemaker. Pinching the bridge of my nose didn’t suppress my scornful, “Spoiled brat.”
Amby flinched and glared at me, hearing the slip. It didn’t bring me any joy… because I was better than this. Why was this brat dragging out my worst? Fighting, flirting, and cursing.
“Oh, Ambrose, don’t worry about that old thing.” Anna waved it off with amused warmth, shining from him to me, and back. “Home is where the heart is, after all, not in material possessions. That’s what my mother always told me.”
I scoffed at the weak sentiment. Her mum was a fool to recite such flowery nonsense.
But then, matching tea sets granted her the luxury of platitudes, didn’t it?
Anna owned enough material possessions to comfortably believe that possessions don’t matter.
Anna probably owned a pillow with her mum’s nonsense embroidered right into it.
My fist clenched.
Well, I could burn the embroidered pillow once we married, but first I had to add my apology to Amby’s stack. “I’m sorry too, Anna, for my rudeness. I don’t know what got into me.”
I refrained from shooting an accusing glare at Amby, just barely. That’s what the old me would do, to make sure Mrs. Marsh struck both our hands with a ruler for being rambunctious boys in the classroom.
But I was a grown man now, for fuck’s sake.
I moved through the parlor with only Anna in my sight.
Her lovely braids circled her head like a golden halo, and her delicate eyebrows rose higher with each claiming step I took until I joined her by the doorframe.
She didn’t look awed by my magnificence as she tilted her head at me, but she did appear slightly interested. It was a start. It was something.
I offered her my arm in gratitude. “Shall we go fishing now? You said you know of a secret spot on your property?”
“Yes, where Annabelle and I were going to fish,” Amby had the nerve to say while fixing me with his hard eyes. He approached Anna and offered his arm as well. His posh clothes were nicer than mine. He didn’t need to do much to show me up. Even his offer to Anna sounded smooth, “Shall we?”
And she laid her delicate hand on Amby’s arm.
She fucking took his arm. They made a dashing pair while I was left lowering my offer.
That was my lot, my place. I didn’t need them to point it out, especially when Amby’s sassy grin said he won that round.
That grin only grew as he led Anna out to the hall, where we stopped for our caps.
When we reached the door, Anna asked me to grab the fishing gear like their servant.
Amby was beaming.
Oh… I knew how to wipe that smirk off his handsome face.
But I waited. It took devious patience while Anna led us toward the lake that Millie and I discovered yesterday.
I let Anna and Amby walk together along a trail leading to the woods.
I strolled behind them with the fishing poles over my shoulder and the basket containing the bait and extra hooks swinging lazily in my hand.
My only goal was to appear like the perfect picture of an entitled man.
I waited while a chill breeze made Anna shiver, and Amby offered his jacket to her.
That was fine, the whole chivalrous jacket thing was passe.
I ignored the fuss she made. And I ignored Amby’s shirtsleeves, with that fine white material that exposed some definition in his arms, as if the man labored in some way, or how his green pinstripe vest was tailored nicely to a trim waist and round ass.
I didn’t focus on that at all. Instead, I thought about all the ways I might mess with him once we started fishing. Ways I could steal Anna’s attention.
I even waited while we peacefully made our way through the woods, so that Amby’s guard could lower. When Anna laughed politely at his conversation, Amby— Ambrose —looked over at me with snarky pleasure for entertaining her in front of me.
That was my signal. I came up beside him and leaned toward him with an innocent blink of my lashes, and asked in my most curious voice about the one thing Ambrose hated the most, “Mr. Somerset, why don’t you tell us about your business? Are you managing the bank yet?”