The Last Duke (Thornton 1)

“Ah, you’re very proper.”

“I have to be. My parents are bringing me out this spring, and I’d best know how to address those whom I meet.”

“A prudent decision.” That audacious stare swept over her again. “But if you’ll forgive my boldness, I doubt you’ll need to worry about using the correct forms of address. With beauty such as yours, the gentlemen will lie panting at your feet, no matter what you call them.”

“Really?” Noelle’s eyes twinkled. “All the more reason for me to sharpen my mind. Panting is for dogs, and floors are for carpets.”

The earl threw back his head in laughter. “An excellent point. So tell me, Lady Noelle, what do you hope to bring to your first London Season? More importantly, what do you hope to gain from it?”

Noelle sobered. “Truthfully, I haven’t given it much thought. I’ve been … preoccupied with other matters.”

“I see.” He didn’t press her, just studied her from beneath hooded lids. “Did I offend you by commenting on your beauty?”

“Of course not. Any woman who denies enjoying such a compliment is a liar.”

“Which, by your own admission, you’re not.”

“Exactly.” Noelle shrugged. “I’m pleased to hear myself referred to as beautiful. On the other hand, I’d like to be referred to as more than that. For example, I’m very quick—of mind and tongue. And actions, too, I suppose. Precocious is how my father referred to me when I was a child.” A self-deprecating grin. “That was actually one of his kinder terms. There were others, not nearly as flattering. Let’s suffice it to say that I’ve kept my parents on their toes these past fourteen years.”

“Fourteen years?”

Seeing his puzzlement, Noelle explained, “I’m adopted. My parents became my parents when I was four. From that point on, I went from being a holy terror to being merely—as Papa still calls me—a tempest. Before that … well, to sum it up, I was probably the only child in the world who could boast having been ousted from every decent home in the village; several villages, in fact.”

Lord Tremlett was watching her with an unreadable expression on his face.

Noelle shifted uneasily. “Please don’t pity me, my lord. I’ve long since bid that chapter of my life good-bye, with no lingering scars, thanks to Mama and Papa.”

“I wasn’t pitying you,” he replied bluntly. “I was thinking that those families who turned you out were as blind as most of the men you’ll meet this Season. Both groups are incapable of seeing beneath the surface. More fools they.”

Warmth suffused Noelle’s heart. “Thank you for saying that. Clearly, you’ve inherited your parents’ compassion. They must be very proud of you.” A quizzical look. “What do you do with your time?”

“For work or pleasure?”

Noelle flushed. “I’m not that outspoken that I would pry into your personal life. I meant you don’t strike me as an idle man, one who would be content drifting from club to club and diversion to diversion.”

“Do those diversions include women?”

Her jaw dropped. “Are you intentionally trying to embarrass me?”

“No.” The earl leaned forward, propping his elbow on his knee and his chin atop his hand, the motion of the train propelling him even closer—so close Noelle could see his thick fringe of dark lashes. “I just enjoy watching that glorious spark ignite your eyes.” His voice was low, barely audible over the clanging of the train. “It makes them glow like sapphires.” With that, he eased back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest. “To answer your question, you’re right. I detest being idle. I’m also not very good at playing the landed gentleman. So I work—not for one, for many. I’m an investigator.”

Noelle’s mouth formed a round “o.” “An investigator—do you mean a spy?”

“I’m afraid not. Nothing as exotic as that. I’m an insurance investigator. I check into stolen property, see that victims are compensated for their losses.”

“Are you employed by a company—like Lloyds?”

“I’ve done frequent work for Lloyds, yes. But I’m not exclusively theirs. I prefer to work independently, to pick and choose the assignments I take. For instance, I specialize in the recovery of valuable paintings.”

“Do you live in London?”

“Sometimes. I have a Town home there. I also have a small estate just outside Southampton.” Tremlett’s lips curved slightly. “One I actually purchased, rather than accepted from my father.”

“You’re very proud.”

“I was brought up to be.” An indulgent pause. “Now, have I sufficiently answered all your questions?”

Noelle’s expression turned rueful. “I didn’t mean to interrogate you. When I listed my traits a few minutes ago, I forgot to include over-inquisitive and curious.”