An Affair so Right

by Heather Boyd

  Miss Dalton stood by the cold hearth, hands pressed to her face, ebony hair twisted into a tight braid around her skull, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed silently into her hands. The poor woman. He was glad to know that she’d bathed and was wearing a day dress now, but not so pleased by her distress. He felt utterly useless under the circumstances, but he crossed the room and cleared his throat softly.

  She startled, trying to wipe her face before he saw her tears. “My lord.”

  “Miss Dalton.” He studied her face as more tears began to fall. Fascinated, he watched them slide over her cheeks. He’d never before met a woman who could cry quietly. Theodora was a classical beauty by societies standards. Flawless pale skin beside glossy dark hair. Her brows were two straight fine lines above a pair of fine silver eyes. “They found him exactly where you thought he’d be.”

  She nodded, and her full bottom lip quivered.

  “It is natural to cry. My sisters often damp my shoulders when they are upset. If it will help, come here, my dear.” He held out one arm, as he would to his sisters when they were upset, and drew her unresisting body against his chest.

  The little woman sobbed brokenly against his waistcoat while Quinn stroked her shoulder, attempting to comfort her during this difficult time. Her hands clenched at his clothes, and he wrapped her in both his arms. They stayed that way for a long moment.

  “It was an accident. The coroner believes a lamp fell against the curtains.”

  She looked up quickly, eyes narrowing. “What about Small’s accusations? He said—”

  “Small was dying. Confused and in pain. I’m sure he was mistaken about what happened. So is the investigator.” Quinn stepped back. “The man wishes to speak with you and your mother tomorrow. His name is Mr. Mitchell Banks. I know of him by reputation only. He’s said to be honest and compassionate. He also seems experienced at understanding how fire spreads. I promised to send him your new directions, since your home was destroyed. Have you and your mother discussed where you will go?”

  Theodora’s shoulders rose in a shrug. “Not yet, but I fear there could be a problem with my mother. She has taken my father’s death very hard. She refused to be moved farther than that room or to dress in the clothes your housekeeper offered. I dread to think how she will take a complete relocation.”

  “A few hours’ sleep and she will be reasonable, perhaps, and understand decisions must be made.”

  Miss Dalton nodded. “I hope so. What happens now?”

  “Banks will direct any recovered possessions to this address until you have secured new lodgings, and I can have them sent on to you. Everything of value or personal in nature will be recovered. He’s also promised to post men to watch over the site tonight to prevent looters. I’ll send my grooms out shortly as well, just to ensure it happens.”

  “Thank you.” She held out the side of her gown. “Thank you for the clothes.”

  He squinted at what she was wearing now. It wasn’t black, as required for full mourning, but a dull shade of forest green that would do for now. “My sister’s, if I recall correctly. Louisa must have forgotten one again. For as long as I can remember, my sister has left something of hers behind, mostly so she has an excuse to return, I think.”

  Miss Dalton nodded slowly, then took a few steps away before sinking into a chair at his desk.

  “It will be all right,” he promised. Miss Dalton’s quiet dignity at such a time concerned him. Shouldn’t she be grieving harder?

  “No, it won’t,” she said as she rubbed the desk with the flat of her hand. “You don’t understand how much Papa meant to us.”

  Quinn followed and sat on the edge of the table. He took up her hand. “I’d often thought I should know your family better. Your father seemed an accomplished businessman.”

  “He was.” Her expression tightened. “I expect we will never see you again after today.” Theodora stood. “I should stir my mother so we can make decisions. I must also find employment.”

  “Surely not.” He jumped to his feet, staying her with one hand outstretched. “This is not the time,” he protested.

  “Better to start now than wait until we are starving.” Her expression grew amused; the first sign of levity he’d noticed. “Do you object to a woman engaging in honest work?”

  “Of course not. For someone else and at another time. You’re a lady in mourning,” he insisted, despite knowing he’d no right to tell her what to do.

  “I am in mourning, and that is why I must work.” She leaned close to him. “I prefer to be busy doing worthwhile things. I’ve never had the temperament for doing little, as many ladies are prone to do. I have worked for my father, secretly, since I was a girl, and those skills will help Mother and I recover our lives now.”

  “I see. But…”

  Her expression hardened, and he quickly fell silent. “Your disapproval reminds me that English society might not yet be ready to appreciate an independent woman who works for a living. I would have had a much greater chance of employment had this happened in India. No doubt Mother and I will return there as soon as I’ve amassed funds enough to travel.”

  He studied the woman, astonished by her quick decision-making ability at such a time. “I am surprised you already have half a plan in mind.”

  “If you knew me, you wouldn’t say that.” She regarded him with one brow raised. “They say you are not the usual frivolous aristocrat strutting about Town. Should I believe such gossip?”

  He drew back. “Frivolous?”

  “Carefree?” She rubbed her temple firmly enough to leave a red stain on her pale skin. “Forgive me if my words offend you.”

  “I do forgive you, and easily.” He’d not truly been offended, only surprised that she thought of him at all. Truth be told, he’d rather have a reputation for frivolity than ruthlessness any day. “I can well imagine the strain you are under.”

  She sighed. “Don’t worry. I don’t faint.”

  “I never imagined you would.” Smart, prickly, and impertinent—an intriguing combination in a woman. Ladies like Theodora Dalton were rare and would never fall apart in public. They would keep their pain private, as his late sister had. The thought brought a chill racing down his spine at the realization. He looked her over carefully, suddenly worried for her state of mind. He did not know her, but he had learned she did not have a great many friends of her own age coming to call. Who would look out for her now? “Did your father approve of your work?”

  Tears filled her eyes again. Quinn cursed himself for uttering that foolish question. Perhaps the less said about the late Mr. Dalton today, the better.

  “He believed in hard work.” She cast a frown around the room. “Does your secretary believe in hard work?”

  He glanced behind him to the untidy stacks of correspondence littered about the place. He’d get to sort it all out eventually. “I don’t have a secretary at present. The last man abandoned his duties—to marry, of all things.”

  “How shocking.”

  “Well, he loved the woman he married, so I couldn’t easily find a way to change his mind. Bribery did not sway him, and he’s not the least bit sorry he’s left my employment, either. Finding a suitable replacement has been a trying business, I must say.”

  She studied the desk. “Would you employ me?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  She dragged a pile toward her and shuffled the unopened correspondence. “Employ me. I’ll have this room straightened in under a day and your social calendar brimming with engagement you will enjoy by the end of the week.”

  He took the letters from her gently. “Miss Dalton, you’re not thinking straight. You’ve just lost your father and your home. This is hardly the time to discuss what I need.”

  “This is exactly the right time and place. How else could I learn of the situation you find yourself in? You are in danger of being smothered by so much paper as I’ve never seen. Employ me and save us both. You will gain the services of a ded
icated employee. The work will distract me from my loss and from here, I can keep an eye on the recovery of my mother’s property.”

  She began flipping through the papers on the desk in earnest, sorting fresh mail into neat new stacks as if she intended to start immediately.

  Alarmed, he stilled her hands again, discovering them very cold. He rubbed them briskly to warm her. “Absolutely not. Think what your mother will say about this when she wakes? She will need you, and she surely will not approve of you working for me.”

  “My mother is in no fit state to think, let alone disapprove. We can help each other, my lord. I must have funds, and you,” she glanced away, her breath shuddering past her pretty lips, “you need someone to throw out scented letters you clearly were not desperate to open.”

  He winced at that.

  “If you require further incentives to employ a woman, I could be of help in other ways.”

  Miss Dalton glanced up at him under her lashes, and he was alarmed by the desperate gleam in her eyes enough to clutch her slightly warmer hand tightly in his. He wanted to help her, and he had the means to do so. He could set the ladies up in a residence until they found their feet.

  Theodora laid her other hand firmly on his chest.

  His pulse kicked up a notch as she toyed with the buttons of his waistcoat, and by the way her lips parted. Her tongue flicked out, wetting them.

  He swallowed hard and released her hand. “What did you mean when you suggested you could help me in other ways?

  “You watch me.”

  Quinn raised a brow in surprise. He had never hidden his appreciation of women. Beauty and grace deserved a man’s full attention and respect. He admired many women, but Theodora Dalton had shown no interest in him before today. “I imagine many men do.”

  “I’ve been alone for two years,” she murmured, teasing his chest with a gentle caress that he felt all over. “There are things missing from my life.”

  “You’re a spinster,” he reminded her, frowning. Spinsters were not meant for dalliance, not unless one wanted to end up leg-shackled. Quinn wasn’t so generous that he’d marry this woman out of pity.

  “I was to be a bride once,” she whispered.

  It was hard to miss her meaning when her hand slipped downward purposefully to the waistband of his breeches. “I did not know that about you,” he struggled to say.

  “Daniel, my betrothed, did things with me. In private.” She bit her lip. “I enjoyed those things very much.”

  Quinn blinked in shock at her confession. Many an engaged couple anticipated their wedding night. However, he was not such a fool as to believe her serious in her offer. Too much had changed in the past hours for him to believe she knew what she was doing or saying right now. “You miss him, and I do understand. However, I’m sure you will agree that tomorrow, you will regret this discussion. We will not speak of this again.”

  “I miss the warmth and companionship of a lover.” She drew his hand to her breast and held it against her softness. “The touch of a man’s body against mine at night is not something easily forgotten.”

  Stunned, Quinn could only nod as she moved his hand a little, so he caressed her breast. Miss Dalton wasn’t thinking straight. “I hope you are not suggesting that your employment be a mutually beneficial arrangement?”

  “It could be. I know how to keep your days and nights full,” Miss Dalton promised. She smiled slowly, her eyes glazed, and lowered her hand to cup his cock through his breeches.

  Gods! The woman most definitely had experience when it came to the male of the species. That had not been an exaggeration on her part. Quinn couldn’t remember the last time a woman had come right out and offered pleasure so abruptly without any form of prior flirting.

  He caught her wrist and held her still. “Do you keep this experience of yours a secret from your mother?”

  “From everyone.” She lifted to her toes to whisper in his ear. “No one will ever know what we do together.”

  Chapter 5

  Even with her heart in danger of breaking, Theodora knew exactly what she was doing in offering herself to Lord Maitland. Men were uncomplicated creatures and often required an added inducement to render the right sort of aid. Although in Lord Maitland’s case, he did really need her. The moment she had stepped into this house, and discovered the disorder of Lord Maitland’s private office, she’d decided where to seek employment.

  She had fleetingly studied Quinn Ford since his return to shore and resignation from the Navy, after what was reported as a distinguished and lucrative career. She had noticed his interest on more than one occasion, but had been too busy with her father’s concerns to do anything about encouraging him. He was a man with presence and sense, and that appealed to her more than his handsome face and easy smile for other ladies.

  She was looking forward to finding out if the handsome viscount lived up to her expectations—but that would be after she’d straightened out his affairs.

  She eased back before he could try to claim a kiss, heart hammering against her breast at her boldness. Sensations she’d set aside for so long stirred her blood a little too strongly for their current location. She had made her offer, and she’d not offer more until he agreed.

  Daniel had taught her that timing was everything—in business and in pleasure, too. As much as she missed the man she was to marry two years ago, she couldn’t mourn Daniel forever. She had loved him with her whole heart and body, and not a day went by when she didn’t think of him or regret the future they might have had together.

  Quinn Ford was real, flesh and blood, and available by all reports. And he suited her immediate needs for employment, if he could be persuaded. She wanted only brief employment, a casual liaison, and then she’d return to India to take up her former life and mourn her father properly.

  This house was perfectly positioned for her needs, too. She wanted to keep an eye on the recovery of their remaining possessions. The coroner would also not ignore the importance of Lord Maitland’s wishes for a speedy investigation, if she nudged the viscount to lend his weight behind her request. The viscount would help her get to the bottom of her father’s death, whether he intended to or not.

  “I do need a secretary,” he mused, but then smiled broadly. “However, as tempting as your offer is, I must decline.”

  Theodora was taken aback by his refusal, and obvious amusement in her surprise. She had propositioned him in no uncertain terms. And she had no doubt Lord Maitland was fully engaged in her suggestion that they share a bed.

  Despite the rebuff, she was quite desperate to win him over by any method she could. She stroked him, a firm caress, because he’d not stepped back out of reach yet. She dug her nails in at the last moment to heighten his enjoyment and earned a grunt in return. Daniel could never resist that. “I’ve no interest in capturing your heart, my lord, if you fear I have designs on marrying you to support myself,” she promised.

  “That’s actually comforting.” His smile grew, and then he laughed softly. “But I still decline. I have a mistress. She’s the jealous sort. Hates to share.”

  Theodora released him with an oath, turning away to quickly form a new plan. There had been no gossip about him keeping a mistress. Mistresses were often as immoveable as wives. She grew aware Lord Maitland had followed her, though, and she hid a smile of pleasure.

  Perhaps he had no personal need for her now, but she would not be so easily thwarted in other areas. She wanted his employment, and to forget that her father had just died horribly. “I accept the restriction.”

  “You accept what?”

  She turned. “The position of secretary only. I can start immediately. I prefer to be paid by the month, in advance. Lodgings, for myself and my mother, until we can arrange our own close by. In return, I am available to you at any time of the day or night for any correspondence you need written.”

  His brows had risen high at her statement. “You are determined, aren’t you?”

&
nbsp; Theodora prided herself on her commitment to everything she did. He could wake her in the middle of the night if the mood struck to write a letter, and she’d never complain. “I am my father’s daughter.” Her grief surfaced for a moment, but she quickly suppressed the urge to cry. Weeping would get her nowhere in a world controlled by men. “That will be to your advantage.”

  “How so?”

  “As you saw earlier, people gossip. Particularly women. Husbands tell their wives many things they don’t know what to do with, so they discuss the matter with other women. Mother and I may be on the outer at the moment, but that will not always be the case. I will share my discoveries with you, and you can use that knowledge to make yourself richer.”

  “I am rich enough to last two lifetimes.” His jaw worked, and then he leaned forward suddenly to stare into her eyes. “Let me make one thing clear. I am not my father’s son. I do not now, nor do I ever want to, employ peddlers of information. I do not deal in intrigue.”

  Theodora stepped back from his anger, recognizing she’d made a disastrous assumption about Lord Maitland. She had assumed, deep down, he was the same as every other man. Theodora had assumed the former captain to be well connected with the East India Company, too—a company that delighted in political machinations that had ruined many. Perhaps she had underestimated the viscount. “Understood, my lord.”

  His lips pressed tightly together as if he were fighting the urge to berate her further. For a long, horrible moment, Theodora feared she’d lost whatever advantage she had gained in her search for employment. She had blundered, and very badly, given the way he stared at her now. His scrutiny was actually quite terrifying.

  “You may begin after the funeral, if that is still what you want,” he said suddenly. “I’ll arrange for rooms to be prepared for you and your mother for an extended stay.”

  She nodded, and Lord Maitland walked away, hands clenched at his sides.

  Theodora rushed to follow him but when she reached the top of the staircase, he was already gone from sight.