Gareth knew he had dug a hole for himself, so to speak, and now he would need to see the site. “I will send a message to Mr. Fowler and reschedule our tour of the brewery.” He turned back to the woman, who was waiting for his answer with obvious interest. “We can walk the area and see if the berm will need to be moved.” He already knew it would, but he guessed it would not be politic to declare such an opinion so baldly in the face of her mistake. Her smile told him he had guessed correctly for a change.

They looked at the rest of the drawings without incident.

Chapter Seven

The only meal Serena could recall being odder than the one she’d had tonight was her last dinner at Rushton Park. Oh, the food and service were impeccable, as usual. But Lockheart and McElroy were not the most restful of dinner companions. The Irishman seemed to delight in prodding and poking not only his friend, but Serena, and—she suspected—anyone else who had the misfortune to enter his orbit. He was a sharp man with a rather thin, brittle façade of charm and she did not trust for a moment.

Mr. Lockheart remained as mysterious as ever. Although he rarely spoke, he seemed articulate and comfortable when he did. Which made her wonder what it was he enjoyed inside his own head enough to ignore the discussions and people around him the rest of the time.

By the time the sumptuous dessert course had been cleared from the table Serena had endured quite enough prodding by McElroy and Lockheart’s quiet, measured looks.

“I will leave you gentleman to your port. I’m afraid I’ve had rather a long day and will turn in unfashionably early.” She stood and they with her.

“Good night, Mrs. Lombard.” McElroy said bowing. “I’m afraid I’m something of a late riser, so I’ll leave matters of earth moving and dams to you and Gareth.”

Lockheart met Serena at the door, even though a footman hovered nearby to open it.

“Will six be too early, Mr. Lockheart? It is when I usually breakfast and then head to the site.” She had hoped to see him recoil or at least wince at the early hour, but he merely nodded.

“At six, madam.” He bowed and opened the door. “Good night.”

Serena breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind her. She would have liked to be a fly on the wall in the dining room—especially to see how the two men interacted while on their own. Over the course of dinner McElroy had shared the general details of their history. Two boys dropped at the same orphanage. McElroy was older than his friend, although he behaved in a far younger and more carefree fashion. In any event, she was glad he was staying away in the morning. She wanted to speak with Mr. Lockheart without wading through witticisms and double entendres.

She went up to Oliver’s room, which was on the third floor of the family wing. There was a light beneath Nounou’s door so she tapped softly.