A Scoundrel by Moonlight (Sons of Sin 4)

“You’re too kind.” Nell meant it. She glanced at the marquess, expecting him to disapprove of this informality, but his faint smile lacked the usual reserve.

Overwhelmingly conscious of his intense gray gaze, she hesitantly chose some food and poured a cup of tea. The marquess’s presence stole her appetite. Feeling awkward, she sat on the window seat, deliberately setting herself apart. “How is Mr. Crane?”

“In a sorry way, I’m afraid,” Leath said. “Dr. Angus called again this morning and says it’s a bad break, likely to take months to heal.”

Poor Mr. Crane. He was distantly related to the Fairbrothers, but from a much less prosperous branch. His wages supported his sister and widowed mother in London. “How will his family manage?”

The marchioness laughed. “James, clearly Nell thinks you’re a heartless tyrant.”

Nell blushed. “My lady, I didn’t—”

“Paul will continue to receive his salary,” she said.

“After all, he was injured in my service.” Leath’s response was wry, rather than annoyed. Nell didn’t trust this sudden amiability.

“Which leaves James without a secretary,” her ladyship said.

Why on earth were they involving Nell in this discussion? “Perhaps your steward can help.”

“Powter is far too busy. And he has an abominable hand.” Leath studied her with an expression she couldn’t read, although it made her shift uncomfortably.

“Nell writes beautifully. Her letters are works of art,” the marchioness said. “She could help you, James.”

Nell was so shocked that she fumbled the cup and spilled tea on her skirts. Nervously she slid the cup and saucer onto a small table and reached for a napkin to dab at the stain.

“Clearly she’s overjoyed at the prospect.” Leath’s voice was as dry as sawdust.

“I’m not qualified,” she said unsteadily.

“Don’t be a goose, Nell,” the marchioness said. “You’re the most capable young woman I know. Is there anything you can’t do?”

I can’t resist your son. She set the creased napkin on the tea tray and told herself to stop acting like the goose her ladyship had called her. “I certainly don’t feel up to filling Mr. Crane’s shoes.”

There, that came out almost sensibly.

The marchioness made an airy gesture. “It’s only until James arranges another secretary from London. A couple of weeks at the most.”

“What about my duties with you?” Under her lashes, Nell glanced at Leath. He looked particularly enigmatic. She wondered how he’d reacted when his mother had suggested this scheme.

“We’ll try mornings with James and afternoons with me. We’ll see how it works.”

“His lordship may decide I’m completely inadequate.”

He shot Nell a searing look. “Do you intend to ensure that’s the case?”

She started with surprise, although it wasn’t a bad strategy if she wanted to avoid him. “No, of course not.”

“I’m collating a major report. It’s essential I finish it,” he said.

“It sounds complicated,” Nell said doubtfully.

“So you won’t help me?”

Oh, dear God, when he put it like that, how could she refuse? In truth, she was torn. The prospect of hours in the marquess’s company terrified her. Already he’d undermined her defenses. She didn’t need to see his brilliance in action. Because she had a sinking feeling that he was brilliant. His intelligence drew her almost as strongly as his big, strong body did.

On the other hand, this could be her opportunity. His secretary would have access to his papers. Perhaps the diary was amongst them.

“Good Lord, Miss Trim, I’m not asking you to do anything that you don’t already do for my mother,” he said impatiently. “There’s no need for this soul-searching.”