by Heather Boyd
Theodora sat back immediately and glanced up at the ceiling, then left and right, with only her eyes. If she worked for too long in one stretch, her vision had the troubling habit of becoming blurred by the end of the evening. “Thank you for reminding me.”
She stood and stretched, moving to the front windows to peer out. “Another carriage is leaving.”
Soot began to bark and whine when the door opened behind her.
Her employer slipped into the room, frowning as he shut the door behind him to keep Mama’s dog from running off into other parts of the house.
“Captain William Ford called again and stayed a while,” Quinn advised after greeting the dog. He joined Theodora at the window.
Theodora smiled at her employer but noted he wore an unusually guarded expression. “The captain is your cousin, is he not?”
“First cousin,” Quinn nodded, drawing near. “We are close.”
Theodora returned to the desk, sidestepped the enthusiastic puppy who wanted her to play, and drew out her personal journal. She made a note for herself to learn everything she could about Captain William Ford. Quinn relied on memory in general, but with his added responsibilities, there likely would be a great many small matters unintentionally forgotten. Family affection should not be a casualty of his elevation.
He followed her, his fingers discreetly skimming her arm, out of sight of her mother. “How are you surviving here?”
Her senses tingled. Lusting after her employer wasn’t the done thing, but she had to admit it was a splendid way to pass the time. Quinn’s presence always put her in a good mood. “Very well, although I think Mama found today very dull.”
“Not dull at all. I’ve had the advantage of watching two grown men try to make sense of my daughter. I don’t think they’ve ever seen a woman so interested in legal documents before.”
“I’m glad one of us is.” He sighed, moved to a sideboard. “That is what my future will be. Dull and tedious paperwork and parliamentary debate for years on end.”
“Fascinating.” Theodora crossed the room and immediately took the decanter from his hand. “Don’t drink from this one. Move the five books to the right on the bookshelf beside you. I believe your father kept the best brandy stashed away, out of sight of visitors.”
Quinn grunted and shifted to the side. He moved the fake books aside and uncovered a decanter that matched the ones on display. “Typical of him. How did you discover this little secret?”
“Mr. Kemp sampled a glass from there after luncheon, and made certain to hide it again as I returned. He then pretended to top up his glass from one of the displayed bottles, and I concluded he wanted to try to keep it a secret still.”
“He will underestimate you at his own peril, my dear.” He smiled suddenly. Quinn moved the good brandy to the sideboard and switched the previously displayed one into the secret hiding place. He glanced her way, eyes dancing with mirth. “A little fun.”
Theodora nodded encouragingly, glad to see a spark of mischief in her employer’s eyes. He might be an earl now, but there was no reason he needed to be serious all the time. He shouldn’t have to change his nature. She liked him just as he was. “Here, my lord, come and look at this.”
“If there is nothing else I’m needed for, my lord, Theodora, I should like to retire upstairs for a while,” Mama interrupted, Soot tucked firmly under her arm.
Theodora smiled at her mother, pleased she’d remained downstairs so long. She had taken Quinn’s request very seriously to act as chaperone, and to be visible about doing so, until now. “Of course, thank you for your company today, Mama.”
“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Dalton. I am sorry to have forced you into company during your mourning period.”
“I do understand.”
She left, speaking to Soot about rest time, using the servant’s entrance to move through the house instead of the main stairs.
Quinn drew another circle on Theodora’s upper arm. “Is she all right? Is she comfortable?”
“Yes, I think so. Soot has cheered Mama considerably, and I am glad she ventures from her room. She even conversed a little with Mr. Sever after luncheon.”
“I hoped as much,” he whispered. Quinn continued to tease her arm, gently skimming her skin the way he would often do at night when they lay sated in each other’s arms. There were still many hours until she would retire to bed, and she was suddenly restless. She should not think about intimacy so early in the afternoon.
“Now,” Theodora said, flourishing her journal before him. She discussed the day’s findings, her concerns that needed investigation, and waited for his response.
Quinn’s teasing touch fell away as he pointed to the St. James property. “I have a recollection of him directing his driver there a few months ago, as I left his carriage, but I’m not aware of who lives there.”
“Ah,” Theodora said carefully. She drew a breath, prepared to broach a delicate subject that had been on her mind the last few days. “I know this is an awkward topic but…what is to be done about mistresses? Did he have any that you know of? Do you wish to continue supporting your father’s, and your own, too?”
“There were no bequests left to any in my father’s will.” Quinn sighed. “Damn him for making me decide about them.”
She suspected Quinn would most likely pledge them some financial support or offer other help. She hoped his tender heart would not be too generous, though. “What did you do about Adele Blakely?”
“Nothing.” He turned back to the brandy and poured another glass for himself.
“She is currently living in your property, rent-free, and unencumbered by contract to you,” Theodora said quietly as she followed him. “If she takes up with another man, will you allow her to remain on your property?”
“No.” He raised his eyes skyward. “Why are you, of all people, forcing me to talk about her?”
Because she couldn’t stop herself. She did not like the idea of that woman living in Quinn’s home after what she’d done to him. “Isn’t it my job, as your secretary, to remind you of such matters and carry out your instructions? Even the unpleasant ones?”
Quinn lowered his face, searching hers. “You would have no trouble in speaking with her on my behalf, would you?”
Frankly, Theodora was dying to catch another glimpse of that fool again. She’d love nothing more than to give the actress a piece of her mind for her behavior. “None at all.”
“There’s nothing for you to worry about. Now I know Adele never cared about me, I find I am unable to summon the energy to see her again. She’s been replaced.”
Theodora leaned back, offended by Quinn’s description of the current situation. “I did not replace her. I’m not your mistress.”
He cupped her cheek, skimming his fingers into her hair to angle her face up toward his. He leaned closer, biting his lower lip as desire filled his eyes. “Aren’t you?”
“Never a mistress.” Theodora caught his wrist when his eyes widened, and she pulled his hand away from her face before he went too far. Anyone could burst in and see them together. Lady Templeton, for example, rarely knocked on doors before she opened them. No one would believe his caress innocent, which it certainly wasn’t. “I do not ask for jewels or gifts, I do not expect to be seen on your arm or to be entertained by you. I remain your secretary and temporary lover. Nothing more lasting than that exists between us.”
He stepped back, eyes narrowing, jaw clenching. For a horrifying second, Theodora saw that her words had hurt his feelings, but he quickly masked it, adopting an aristocratic hauteur so utterly wrong for him.
But the pleasure they’d shared in each other’s arms required no tawdry label. She hoped he understood the limits she placed upon their relationship were for the best possible reason. If he paid her for sex, the entire act of intimacy became a business transaction between them. A matter of commerce, rather than the pleasure it had always been. “My lord?”
A muscle ticked in his j
aw before he spoke again. “As you wish.”
“I think it is best to keep our relationship on a professional footing as much as possible. Now, about the mistresses.” Theodora wouldn’t be giving a scheming tart two shillings more than necessary to make her go away. “They need to be dealt with soon.”
“Very well.” He smiled suddenly and Theodora grew warm all over. He went to his desk and wrote a few lines on a piece of parchment before handing it to her. “But first I have another matter that requires your expertise, my dear. I want you to find out if my family had any dealings with a man by the name of Roman Gently. This is an address in London where he might have lived for a while and his occupation too if that helps.”
She’d never heard or read the name before. “Who is he?”
“I’ve not the faintest idea.” He gestured to the room. “See if you can find him among all this, and question my father’s secretaries, too.”
“Of course.”
He bent to press a lingering kiss to her cheek and whispered, “Mother expects me in the drawing room now, but I’ll return as soon as I can or we can talk tonight in bed.”
Theodora watched him stride away, and then reluctantly returned to her work.
Chapter 22
Quinn accepted Rodmell’s help to don a black waistcoat. He was beginning to loathe mourning attire already, as well as the hushed atmosphere that had taken over Newberry House since his father’s death. Usually, there was chatter to be heard in the halls as servants went about their tasks. Lately, he’d heard very little banter. “Is all well this morning?”
“More or less, my lord.” Rodmell fetched his pocket watch and held it out. “The housekeeper is in a mood, though.”
“What about?”
“It’s Miss Dalton, I am afraid.”
“What has the woman done to upset the applecart?”
“She seems to be dismissing the maids before they can do their work, my lord.”
He sighed. “I never thought a day would come when a maid would complain about having no work to do, but here we are.”
“Neither would I,” Rodmell agreed. “They only want to make the bed, but Miss Dalton has already done the work by the time they arrive, more often than not. There’s a rumor going around that she doesn’t sleep.”
Quinn colored a little. Theodora had slept alone last night—and would for some time to come, he’d decided yesterday after their illuminating little talk.
Hearing Theodora explain how she viewed their affair had surprised him initially. But that surprise had soon turned to annoyance. Did she not understand how rare their connection was? They had such delightful symmetry of body at night that he’d begun to feel there was more between them. One that boded well for a happy future. But if she would cast aside their growing closeness, too, by claiming it could not be lasting and hiding behind a professional relationship.
She was deluding herself.
Quinn intended to show her the error of her thinking. After their discussion, he’d decided the best path to take was to restrain his private affections and return to their original arrangement of employer and employee for a while. She could continue to work for him, he would provide accommodation for her and her mother as promised without question. When Mrs. Dalton decided she was ready to live on her own terms again, he would wish them well.
Theodora was very nearly the perfect woman in his opinion.
But not if she couldn’t see where their arrangement was leading them together. “I’m sure she sleeps. Anything else worries the staff about her?”
“She keeps such odd hours.”
“I know. Please make everyone aware—quietly, mind you—that it’s Miss Dalton’s way to cope with losing her father. She will mourn him a full year, I suspect, or perhaps more.” He glanced at the mantel clock. He was dragging his feet today, and that was unlike him. He wanted to spend less time alone with Theodora, to make her miss him. The trouble was, he yearned to see her already, and it was not even eleven o’clock in the morning. “I assume Miss Dalton’s hard at work already.”
“No, my lord. Miss Dalton has gone out. I spoke to her earlier as she waited for the carriage. It was before ten o’clock, and she marched out with her satchel under her arm. She hasn’t returned yet.”
“What the devil is she doing going out so early?” He knew of no business that would take her out today. It must be a personal errand, but he couldn’t remember her mentioning one yesterday. “Did her mother go with her?”
“No, my lord,” Rodmell advised, his expression disapproving.
“No chaperone?”
“No, my lord.”
Quinn was not happy to know Theodora had gone out without a chaperone when he’d expressly asked her to have one with her at all times since she’d moved to Newberry House to prevent gossip.
Theodora had always been rather more independent than his previous secretaries, and he hoped she’d left him a note or some such small crumb on his desk to let him know she had at least thought of him once before running off. “Did you by chance hear where she asked to be taken first?”
“There was one address I heard,” Rodmell said. “Wellington Street.”
Quinn blinked in surprise that Theodora would have any business in that street. His former mistress lived there.
Quinn groaned suddenly, remembering yesterday’s conversation about mistresses. He had hoped Theodora would forget all about Adele Blakely. He certainly had.
Theodora had no business traipsing off to call on his former mistress, but he knew that was exactly the errand she’d gone on that morning on his behalf. Was Theodora the worst secretary he’d ever had? Oh, she was dedicated and organized and a hundred other descriptions he could easily name if he had all day. But he should never have let her believe that a professional relationship was all he wanted. She did not seem to realize former mistresses and current lovers should never know each other.
Once his coat was in place, he held out his arm for the mourning ribbon to be tied around his upper arm. He’d utterly underestimated Theodora’s desire to manage every aspect of his life. He’d seen the subtle signs of possessiveness she’d tried to hide and winced. Theodora had no reason to be concerned that Adele Blakely held any power over him after her betrayal.
He could care less about Adele Blakely’s future. He didn’t want to see his former mistress again. And now Theodora may have forced his hand by going to call upon her.
“Have my carriage brought round.”
Rodmell met his gaze. “Miss Dalton has your town carriage, my lord.”
He rolled his eyes. “A horse then, Rodmell, or my grandfather’s second-best town carriage will do at a pinch.”
“As you wish.” Rodmell hurried off, leaving Quinn to finish dressing, and then Quinn strode to the front of the house after Theodora.
Chapter 23
Theodora stepped out from behind the servant to view Quinn Ford’s former mistress properly. Last time they’d met, or almost met, Adele Blakely had been covered in a robe best suited for the bedchamber and had been weeping copious tears.
Without them, she was pretty, in the way most actresses seemed to be—pale-skinned, long flowing hair to match, adopting a dramatic pose to appear artless to the casual observer, low-cut gown to accentuate her overflowing figure.
Theodora was less than impressed.
“Mrs. Blakely?”
The actress glanced beyond Theodora in confusion. “Who are you?”
Clearly, Adele Blakely had been expecting “Dalton” to be a gentleman caller. “Miss Dalton, Lord Templeton’s secretary.”
The woman startled, hand covering her lips. “He’s assumed the title already.”
“Of course.” Theodora sat, although she was not invited to do so. This home belonged to Quinn, and his investments and properties were her responsibility. She took in the pleasant room the woman was occupying freely. The room was charming, light and spacious. It would do very well for a small family in need of a home fo
r the coming season.
Theodora was already drafting an advertisement offering it for lease in her head when Adele spoke. “How is he?”
“Extremely busy, which is why I am here to complete the arrangements.”
“What arrangements?”
Theodora smiled. “Are you really so foolish as to think you could continue living in his home after bedding his father?”
“I can explain.”
“I’m sure you can, and if I had time and interest, I could listen. Lord Templeton’s interest in you ended the night his father was found naked in your bed. A discovery, I’m sure you can understand now, that brought him great personal pain.”
The woman sobbed, but her eyes were suspiciously dry. “I never meant to hurt him.”
Theodora wasn’t moved at all by her false weeping. The little fool knew exactly what she was doing by sleeping with both the father and the son.
Theodora opened her satchel and drew out the deal she had written up last night, before she’d gone to bed alone. “Lord Templeton never had a written contract with you, but given your history offers one last generous payment to help you move on. Sign this.”
The woman scanned the sheet, her eyes wide by the end. “This is outrageous!”
Actually, Theodora believed it was more than the actress deserved, after what she’d done. Theodora had factored in the length of Adele Blakely’s association with Quinn, and his protective nature. The sum should ensure Adele Blakely was able to live and possibly thrive for years without a protector, so long as she kept her expenses on the conservative side. “The late Lord Templeton has a wife, two living daughters and three sons. His lordship is extraordinarily fond of his mother, as you should already know. Do you think he will make you a better offer after the humiliation you dealt them both?”
Mrs. Blakely gaped.
“I don’t think so either,” Theodora confided. “Sign.”