by Mary Blayney
He smiled that half–smile that caused his dark eyes to crinkle. “I knew I’d find you here. That man of yours was determined to put me in some room filled will dainty little things designed to make a man quake in his boots, but I knew you’d be here, a much more sensible space.”
Radford.
She pulled in a breath, trying to maintain a semblance of calm. “As if anything could make you quake in your boots, your grace.”
“True. I’ve never been much for quaking. I am much more likely to take action — which would not be good for your furniture. I suggest you remember that next time.”
Did his voice echo with actual threat? She would have to remember. He might put practice to his words and while she did not find the delicate French pieces comfortable, still she treasured them. “You wouldn’t.” She tried to sound confident.
“Oh, I would.” Without asking her leave he walked across the chamber and sat in the chair across from her desk. He pushed some of her carefully arranged objects aside and reclined back. She sensed he was only moments away from slinging his booted heels up.
“Do not. I value the finish. It was my father’s desk, one of the few of his belongings that I have. I would not forgive you if you marred it. “
“And I should be concerned with your forgiveness?” His words were cold, but he did not swing his heels up.
“Why are you here, Radford?” She was tired after her long night and did not wish to play his games.
“You know why I am here. I need you to find a companion for my mother — a competent one this time.”
“Both Miss Jackson and Miss Scott were perfectly competent.” She fought to maintain her temper. Her business depended on recommendations and she would not have her women’s abilities questioned.
“Then why were the Tiddlywinks seated together?”
“What?”
“I do believe you heard me. Mr. and Mrs. Tiddlywink were seated beside each other at dinner last week and they actually began to throw food. There are still jokes going about Town asking how to make a roast Cornish hen fly. My mother has not left her bed for days.”
“I really do not know what you are speaking of.” Stay calm. Stay calm.
Radford’s eyes flashed up at her. His temper was rising apace with hers. “That may be the problem. Surely, a lady’s companion should be able to do something as simple as plan the seating at a dinner party.”
“Plan the seating …I do not believe that is part of the normal expectation of a lady’s companion. A companion should have a pleasant reading voice, be happy with needlework, understand the art of gentle conversation — perhaps even know how to make a sweet compress to sooth an aching brow. A lady does the seating plan — not her companion.”
“Are you saying the dowager duchess, my mother, is wrong in her expectations?”
Darnation. She could not say that. The dowager duchess had the power to ruin the agency should she choose. “Of course not. I merely mean that it is not in the normal course for a companion. If the duchess needs such a companion I will find her the perfect one. But I could not know before you told me.”
“So you are saying that my mother is not normal?
Blast. “Of course not.” She rubbed at her tired eyes.
Was that a smile she saw lurking in his eyes? His face was still flat and cold, but she sensed humor. Could he be teasing her? She’d never known Radford to tease — but then she did not know him well.
She tried again. “Perhaps it would be best if I spoke to your mother. Surely, if I am looking for a companion for her I should speak to her again — directly. It is most unusual to conduct business in this manner.”
“So my mother is not normal and I am unusual?”
She was going to kill him. Standing up quickly, she began to pace back and forth behind the desk. Why did he affect her in such a manner? It was more that her weariness. With all other clients she could maintain her calm. With Radford her whole body reacted, her cheeks heated, her breath grew shallow, and those butterflies, those blasted butterflies. It helped if she did not look at him — but only a little. Even when she wasn’t looking she could feel his gaze, imagine the heat of his body, know how the crisp linen of his shirt caressed his arm.
Where were these thoughts coming from? She ‘d never even seen him without his coat. And she certainly hadn’t spent any time imagining how — no, she was not going to continue thinking these thoughts. Companions. She would think only of finding his mother a companion. “Perhaps if you gave me a list of what you require.”
“A list of what I require. I do believe I would enjoy giving you just such a list.” His voice had grown quite serious, serious and low. And his gaze — he was staring at her bosom.
Resisting the urge to cross her arms across her chest — why did her breasts have to bob when she paced? — Molly stared at him, waiting for him to lift his gaze to meet her own. “I meant your mother’s requirements.”
“I think the girl I saw leaving when I came in would do. The blonde one. I am sure she would know how to arrange a table. She looked just the type for what I want.”
Chapter Two
He should not have said that. It was not often that the Duke of Radford regretted his words, but he did now. He watched Miss Watson’s face pale and then her checks flush — and not in a becoming manner. She was angry and he knew not why. That had definitely not been his intention. He might have considered that she’d be a bit bothered, a bit jealous, at his mention of the pretty blonde, but he had not expected anger. He enjoyed her unsettled, not on the verge of fury.
“Oh, and what type is that?”
Blast, he really had got it wrong. He’d only wanted to watch the blush rise up from those magnificent breasts. “She looked as if she knew her way around both a drawing room — and a dining room.”
“Are you sure you don’t mean a bedroom?” The words flashed from her lips and then he saw comprehension form. Her face grew even redder and then white, very white.
He stared at her for a moment, letting the knowledge of what she had said — and to whom — sink in. And then he threw her a line. He liked her bothered, but perhaps not quite so much. “Yes, she would need to be comfortable in my mother’s bed chamber. I do believe that a great part of a companion’s duties may take place there. Am I wrong?”
Her gaze dropped down to her hands, her fingers wrapping in hurried patterns upon the surface of her desk. “No, you are not wrong.” And then, “Thank you.”
“I did not think so. I am rarely wrong. Which leads me to my next question. Why are you so angry?”
She straightened, her dark hair stark against pale skin. Her lips tensed and he thought she would deny the charge, but eyes still downturned, she answered, “I do not like it when my women are dismissed because they are not pretty enough or refuse to be seduced.”
“You are bold today. Do you think that my mother chose not to keep her companions because they were not pretty enough or do you truly think that she meant to seduce them?” He straightened in his chair and leaned toward her.
Finally she lifted her great blue eyes up to his, shadows lay heavy beneath them. Her chest rose as she pulled in a deep breath. It was hard to keep his gaze focused upon her face as she answered, “I am sure that you realize I was not speaking of your mother. It was you who came with the news of their dismissals. Why would you have done that if it were not your decision? I am still not sure why you are here in person. I have never had a gentleman take such interest before. A companion’s employment is always arranged by the lady or by her agent. I can think of no reason you would call upon me if you were not taking an interest beyond — beyond that which it is proper for a gentleman to take.” She raised a hand and rubbed her temple. She looked tired as well as short–tempered.
“Not only bold, but brave. Do you actually accuse me of seducing the servants? I should assure you that my father taught me that all things are possible, but that a gentleman never — and I do mean never — abuses hi
s privilege in such a manner. If my mind were on seduction — it would not be of my mother’s companion.” He held her gaze and then, deliberately, let his eyes shift to those bountiful breasts and then back up to her shining azure eyes.
He couldn’t possibly mean …No, she would not even consider such a thought. He was a gentleman and she was — well — she was far from him in almost any manner of thought. She must have misunderstood that glance. It wasn’t the first time a man had stared at her bosom. Although it was the first time it had made her feel like squirming in her chair. Besides even if he had been thinking in such a fashion it wasn’t like he would seriously choose her. He could have anyone. She’d seen enough of the fancy ladies that the aristocracy amused themselves with to know that her own overly full curves and disorderly brown curls were not what they sought. And if you added in a wide mouth and short nose there really wasn’t any comparison.
She tried to gather her tired thoughts. If only Radford would stop staring at her breasts. “No, of course, I didn’t mean to make an accusation.” That was true. She might have thought it, but she certainly hadn’t meant to say it. While her business could survive financially without the duke’s funds. It would be something else if he — or his mother — actively spoke against her. It would be impossible for her women to find employment if the duke told lies about her — or even told the truth. What men did with their servants was never to be discussed — at least not in public.
“I did not think you meant any such thing. Although …” He let his voice trail off.”
“Although?” She did not mean to be playing his game.
“Although I must confess that part of what brought me to you in the first place were some of the more interesting things I had heard about your agency.”
There really was no avoiding it. He was leading and she must follow. “Interesting things?”
“Why yes, most interesting.” He leaned back in his chair and let his gaze wander slowly up her neck to her face. He held her eye for a moment and then looked up at the plaster rosettes on the ceiling. “My mother was most determined to use your agency. She’d heard that the employees you supplied were most unique in their abilities. That when you supplied a companion they could help in all sorts of ways that were not normally expected. I believe she said it was supposed to be more like hiring a daughter than a companion — someone who could help you out in any way that was needed.”
If only she’d known that before she sent the first two companions. Molly had actually worked extra hard to supply the duchess with the most normal of companions. It was beginning to seem like Miss Amethyst might be perfect, little, as Molly wanted to admit it. If any of the ladies Molly employed could be mistaken for the daughter of a duke it was likely to be Miss Amethyst — who for all Molly could determine of her parentage might actually be one. Blast. “So you came to investigate whether I could supply you with a — a sister?”
He laughed, a deep low sound that reverberated through the chamber. “No, not a sister. You see while my mother described the women you supplied in such a fashion, others among my friends spoke of them in much more interesting terms.”
Molly was still distracted by his previous comment and it took a moment for his words to penetrate her mind. “Interesting terms? Like what?”
“There are rumors that the companions you supply must be well–versed in the art of seduction. Why else are they catching all these men with the old ball and chain?”
She had the feeling that the rumors were not expressed with as gracious a term as seduction. She’d heard enough gossip to know just how unsavory comments could be. Her father had been a ship’s captain and she was no stranger to a good string of curses, but she never dreamed such language could be applied to the ladies she employed — and they were ladies. That had been the key part of her agency.
A few of her father’s curses came to mind — and almost slipped from her lips. She’d known that the spate of marriages would cause a problem. She just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. “I can only assure you that my ladies are all of highest reputation. I would not have helped find them employment otherwise. Surely their references have made that clear.”
“I don’t know about their references. If it makes you feel any better several of my male friends are more than ready to find a reason for hiring a companion.”
“I do not supply help to houses run by a solitary bachelor.”
“I don’t believe I ever said they were single, several have wives and children. You do supply governesses as well don’t you?”
Could he see the steam rising from her ears? He could not possibly be as obtuse as he was pretending. From what she’d heard he managed his estates with great care and had the reputation among his servants of being fair. His current words left her with grave doubts. Perhaps she should just refuse to find his mother another companion.
“What, no reply?” Radford stood and began to stride about the room, pausing to look at the few remaining porcelain figurines. Picking one up, he stared at it and frowned. “Never did understand why women like these things. They don’t seem to serve any purpose except to collect dust and house spiders — and women don’t seem too fond of spiders. When I was a boy I might have appreciated the spiders. I did enjoy things that crawled.”
She’d like to see him crawl. Was he truly implying that her house had dust, much less spiders? She’d watched the maid dust that little harlequin the day before. It could not possibly have so much as a speck upon it. A thousand replies flitted to her lips but she held them all back. Some comments did not deserve answer and she feared that if she did speak she would only confirm his apparently low opinion of her agency. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. “I believe that you are trying to distract me.”
“Perhaps.” He placed the figurine back on the shelf — in the wrong position. “Do you truly like him? He looks to me like his supper is not agreeing with him, hardly the look I want in a harlequin.”
She actually agreed with him, but the piece was the first gift her father had given her mother and she’d always gathered that there was a story behind the sad looking clown — if not perhaps one that had been suitable for her young ears. “Does that matter? You have just told me that the reputation of my agency is in tatters and you want me to discuss decoration?”
“I suppose that I see your point. And I would not say in tatters. Perhaps a bit dusty about the edges. There is speculation, but no one has yet said it is fact. It is more a bit of fun, than true nastiness.”
“That can change in an instant.”
“Yes, it can.” Standing still, he shifted his gaze to her and held her glance, quite serious. “That is why you must find my mother the perfect companion. If she tells her friends that she is quite satisfied then all will be well.”
“Unless you show an interest in the girl.”
“I have no intention of doing so.”
“And yet you are here, not you mother, or your housekeeper, or some maiden aunt who lives to serve.”
“My mother rarely does anything for herself. Our housekeeper has more than enough work to fill her time. And if there were such a maiden aunt I would not be searching for a companion. The only one left is I.”
“Somehow I do not believe that is true.” Molly rose to her feet and walked away from him, turning to stare out the Venetian doors at her own little paradise. She rolled her shoulders trying to loosen the knots that formed with his every word. How she would like to grab a book from the shelf and escape there now to read herself to sleep. “And you have already admitted that you came because you were curious about the rumors. Were you disappointed that Miss Jackson and Miss Scott were hardly the type for scandalous affairs. And if you are not interested in something beyond the expected why do you keep coming? What have we discussed that could not be handled by correspondence?”
“Well, perhaps I was not as interested as I may have implied in my mother’s companion. I truly am only here as her errand boy.”
&nbs
p; Him, an errand boy? And perhaps pigs would fly and roosters lay eggs. “Again a jotted note would have taken care of much.”
“Perhaps I had another interest.”
“One not related to the rumors?”
“Only in a sideways manner.” He took a step toward the desk, toward her. She should have moved elsewhere about the room, somewhere that she would not feel quite so trapped.
He was wearing high Hessians with a shine she could have used as a mirror and with each step she felt her face grow stiffer. Her hand wrapped about the handle of the Venetian door. The door could not open properly with her desk where it was, but perhaps she could open it enough to slip out, to escape, to …
She would not flee. No man had ever made her run and no man ever would.
Pretending that glue held her slippers to the carpet, Molly let her eyes run up from his feet, over the rounded calves hugged in leather, the muscular thighs that had clearly rode daily, even in Town, slim hips — her eyes hurried past, broad chest and shoulders — she was tempted to linger there, whether from fear or admiration she was not sure — but forced her eyes up, settled on his face, strong sharp features, steely blue eyes. “And how can rumors move sideways?”
His eyes stared into hers, seeking some secret she had never revealed. “If you’d been among society more you would know that rumors can move in any direction — and in more than one at a time. That was, however, not precisely what I meant. The rumors about your ladies had me wondering about you. Your profession is so usual and yet — yet not so.”
“I don’t know what you mean? Do you refer to my ability to supply a companion who can speak Russian and teach violin? Or perhaps to the fact that my ladies can slip so easily into society that one would never know that they were the help, paid for their services?” Glue. Her feet were held with glue. She would not slip to the side no matter how the scent of his shaving cologne might tickle her senses, the heat of his body melt places that should very well stay frozen.