Business Leath would never kiss his secretary.
This version of the multifaceted marquess might promise safety, but there must be something in the air. Every day safety became less appealing.
Until yesterday, she’d wondered if he even remembered kissing her. Now she realized that he too fought their attraction. She was ashamed at how difficult her struggle was. She’d told herself over and over that Leath was the man who had ruined Dorothy and only a self-destructive fool would consider yielding to him. But as the days passed, she had a horrible feeling that she might be just such a self-destructive fool.
She rose on legs that always went weak in his presence and curtsied. “Good afternoon, my lord.”
The stern nod was pure Business Leath. “Miss Trim.”
She should be glad. Business Leath posed no threat to her willpower. But she missed yesterday’s closeness when he’d spoken of his home with such love that she’d made that stupid suggestion for him to stay. Fleetingly, she’d glimpsed this man’s soul, and what she’d seen had intrigued and moved her.
“How are you feeling today, Mamma?” Leath kissed his mother’s cheek with the fondness that always chipped at Nell’s dislike. “It’s another fine day. Perhaps we can sit in the gardens.”
“That would be lovely, James,” the marchioness said. “If you can spare the time. I know you’re busy.”
He shrugged as he took his usual seat. “If I lag behind, I have a very efficient secretary to help me.” He sent Nell a mocking glance. “Please, Miss Trim, cease hovering.”
His attention leveled on the chair she’d been using. Clearly he’d noted the way she retreated to the window seat half a room away when he visited his mother. His quick perception made her wary. He might appear focused on his own purposes, but a week as his secretary had taught her that those gray eyes missed nothing. Willing her heartbeat to slow, she sat where he indicated.
The marchioness smiled her delight. “I told you that Nell was just the woman to get you out of this mess.”
“You were right.” He paused. “But she falls short in one important skill.”
Nell cast him a fulminating glance. She thought she’d done a fair job in a role that tested her. “My lord?”
He wasn’t smiling, but the faint relaxation of his mouth indicated amusement. She’d never met a man who hid his reactions like this one. He must be a devil of a politician. She felt a twinge of sympathy for his opponents.
“The admirable Miss Trim doesn’t ride.”
Nell struggled to sound properly respectful. “A woman of modest means rarely has her own stables.”
He sighed, and now she was certain that he teased. “I have stables.”
The marchioness clapped her frail hands. “James, are you going to teach Nell to ride? What a wonderful idea. She’ll love it.”
“I appreciate your kindness, sir,” Nell said, although appreciation was the last thing on her mind. Hoping that the marchioness wouldn’t see, Nell narrowed her eyes on Leath. How on earth did this chime with yesterday’s warning? “But this is unnecessary. As you pointed out, you’re already busy.”
Lady Leath regarded her with admiration. “My dear, I’m so glad that you don’t let my son trample all over you. He can be overbearing.”
“Mamma, for pity’s sa
ke,” Leath protested.
“Well, you are,” his mother said unrepentantly. “Poor Paul is a complete dogsbody.”
“That’s not true.”
Nell hid a smile. “His lordship will be happy when his new secretary arrives.”
At least that diverted the marchioness’s attention from her companion. “James, what have you done about replacing Paul?”
Leath looked uncomfortable. Almost… furtive. “Matters are in hand.”
Nell frowned in puzzlement. If he’d sent to London, or even York, for Mr. Crane’s substitute, he must have written the letters himself. She certainly hadn’t.
“Most mysterious,” the marchioness said.
“Not at all,” he said, and to Nell’s annoyance, returned to the issue of riding lessons. “Until I get a new secretary, it’s imperative that Miss Trim can sit on a horse.”