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Vienne privately. He wanted to tell her in private what he had contrived. He didn’t want anyone else to see her reaction when he informed her they were now partners. She would school her expression for an audience, but not for him. Now he would have to wait and hope she didn’t hear the news elsewhere. He didn’t think Angelwood would gossip, but he might tell his wife, who might tell a friend; or a servant might over hear a conversation and repeat it to another; or . . . Eventually, Vienne was going to find out what he’d done, and he’d much rather be that messenger.
    Oh well, he thought as he drained his cup. At least with an audience Vienne wouldn’t shoot him for stepping onto her precious site.
    At least, he didn’t think she would.
    L a Rieux’s was going to be the most incredible shopping experience British women ever enjoyed, Vienne promised herself as she moved through one of the buildings that would be altered, or demolished, to make way for her dream. Her location was situated just west of where Mr. Harrod had recently begun expanding his own enterprise, but east of where Mr. Whiteley opened his—on the cusp of the Bayswater and Knightsridge neighborhoods, just south of Hyde Park. It was the perfect location for aristocratic ladies to come and spend their husbands’ money. There would be dressmakers of the finest caliber, glove makers and milliners too. She would offer perfumes and soaps, the finest cosmetics and powders. And shoes! Oh, the beautiful linens and housewares that would be available as well! Everything a lady could ever want, all under one roof. It made her giddy just thinking about it.
    Of course, there were others before her, but her emporium was going to be the finest and the best. The most exclusive. The place little girls aspired to visit when they were grown and had money of their own. And she would be the woman that little girls who could never marry rich husbands would want to emulate. This wasn’t just about taking as much aristocratic money as she could; this was also about showing the world what a determined woman could do.
    She stopped on the first-floor landing and looked out the window at the busy street below. Thank God for Angelwood and his loan. It wasn’t much in the grand scheme of such business, but it was an extra amount she would never have been able to come up with on her own. She was a wealthy woman, but she already had most of what she owned invested in Saint’s Row. She refused to think about what might happen if it all fell apart. She would be ruined. Back to relying on nothing but her own wits.
    It would be easy to find a man all too willing to “take care” of her. Too easy. She would be a trophy for many, some of whom would like nothing better than to see her powerless. No . She’d crawl on her belly to Trystan Kane before she let that happen. Trystan would save her.
    For that reason alone she vowed she would drown herself in the Serpentine before she would allow this venture to fail—because the last person she wanted coming to her rescue was Trystan Kane. The boy would take the job far too seriously for either of their safety.
    As though the devil himself knew the direction of her thoughts, she caught sight of Trystan Kane exiting a carriage just below the window. He was with his brother Lord Archer, a man with secrets behind his eyes. Vienne knew his type well because she was that type herself. Sadie and Indara were with them; no doubt that was how Trystan had managed to find his way to this particular part of the city. She couldn’t refuse to see him. After all, he was one of her investors. If he decided to pull out because of her rudeness, she would have to find someone else to invest his portion. She had waited long enough for this, and wasn’t about to wait any longer.
    Her gaze settled on the younger man. There was a few years difference in their ages? But when they’d had their affair it had felt more like full decades between them. He’d