It was all extremely mortifying. Thankfully, he felt her move away, which took at least half the stress and strain away. He collapsed on his forearms on the table and focused his attention on breathing deeply and evenly.

When he felt capable of looking up without gasping, coughing, or weeping, he found a glass of water beside his plate. She was standing across from him, her face a mask of guilty concern.

“Better?”

He nodded, for once equipped with an excellent excuse for his characteristic taciturnity.

“I couldn’t sleep and came down to make a pot of tea, which I often do. Would you like some tea?”

He shook his head. She gave him an embarrassed smile and went about the business of brewing tea.

Gareth drank the water and the beer and was considering getting up to get more when she put another full glass of water on the table and removed the two empties.

“Thank you.” The words came out a ragged croak.

Because he couldn’t think of anything else to do, he ate the remainder of the bread and meat on his plate. He was feeling back to normal by the time she returned to the table bearing a plate filled with biscuits and more of the cream cakes she seemed to favor.

“Fairy cake?” she offered.

For a change, Gareth took one. The cool cream felt good on his raw throat.

They ate in companionable silence. When she’d finished her cake and had a sip of tea she looked up at him.

“I often cannot sleep. I believe Jessup knows that and makes sure there are tasty tidbits waiting.”

“Jessup knows everything.”

She laughed even though Gareth had not been jesting, a not unusual occurrence for him. The butler was considered the best of his breed. Gareth had overheard some toff discussing him as a nonpareil and lamenting his inability to poach him from Remington. So Gareth had poached him instead.

“How did you find the brewery?”

Now that he was not occupied with struggling for breath he noticed she was wearing a dressing gown, her masses of curly hair tucked beneath one of the improbable bonnets some women insisted on wearing even when they slept. Gareth could not abide wearing a head covering to bed.

Her raised eyebrows and enquiring look told him she was waiting for a response.

“It is in need of a good deal of money and work.”

“Is that what you hoped for?”

“I believe it will suit our needs admirably. Mr. McElroy thinks otherwise.”

She rested her chin on her hand, her brow furrowed. “And why is that?”

“He believes the structure is past the point of retrieval.” Dec’s exact words had been that the old brewery, “had gone to shite” but even Gareth knew that was unacceptable language in front of ladies.

“What will you do?”

“We have purchased the operation.”

Her eyebrows jumped up. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”