The Scandalous Diary of Lily Layton

His eyebrow arched. “Terms?”

“Will I be paid once you’ve selected a bride? After you’ve started courting? An announcement of the engagement?”

He looked faintly shocked at her questions. “No. I am simply paying you for your advice…your opinions on the ladies present in my home.”

She nibbled on her lower lip, a nervous habit she’d not shed. “I am not very knowledgeable about

ladies of high society, and certainly not your guests. I’ve spent most of my life here in Hampshire. I’ve only been to London a few times to visit my aunt and uncle in Cheapside. Being invited to a few of the events of your mother’s house party is the most I’ve mingled with quality.”

Nothing she said surprised him, and she frowned, hating the awareness pumping through her. “Was your offer one of charity? Because I assure you, there are far more charitable endeavors worthier of your patronage, and I do not require pity.”

“Do not be foolish. Whether or not you have been exposed to the glittering, glamorous world of the ton and its season, you have been the wife of a vicar. You, I believe, have an unerring sense of a person’s honor and true character.”

Dear God, if he knew the truth, she would revolt his noble senses.

“My lord, I—”

“I do not want just a wife…I have certain needs that the young lady must fulfill, and her character must be above reproach.”

The dip in his voice when he said “certain needs” intrigued her.

“And what needs are those?” Lily cleared her throat, fighting down the blush at his arrested stare.

“Those I will be able to ascertain for myself. It is your assessment of her character I would find invaluable. Is she kind, intelligent, thoughtful of others? Or is she a shrew…spiteful to those who are not so fortunate? Is she impatient, unfaithful? Are you not able to assess these things about the human heart, as you rightly assessed that Mr. Crauford is not truly interested in your heart and desires? I believe each young lady here will be on their best behavior when I am about.”

Of course, he was looking for a virtuous lady.

Who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is far above rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her so that he shall have no need of spoil. It was a Bible verse her late husband had often quoted to her because he had disapproved severely of the desires of her heart. A lump formed in her throat as she stared at Lord Ambrose helplessly. Of course, he would never deign to even look at a woman like her, one with such an irrepressible need and lustful leanings. What was she even thinking? Even if she had been such a woman, a man like the marquess, so above her in everything, would never regard her in such a manner. “To be clear, my lord, you are simply paying me to be your advisor? Or, to be indelicate, your spy?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” Except she truly did not. Lily then realized the incredible kindness he was bestowing upon her, for his reasons for gifting her five hundred pounds were rooted in nonsense. He was being charitable and doing his best to show a mien of indifference. The warmth rushing through her heart was surprising. “Thank you,” she said, smiling, holding the promise in her heart to help him as best as possible. Lily was unable to believe her good fortune. Five hundred pounds. A mere trifle to a man of his stature, but everything to her. She would be able to secure herself a cottage and hire herself a housekeeper and a cook, at least. There would be enough to pay their wages for a year and the rent on the cottage and her shop in town. She could also provide her brother-in-law with a portion to lease the shop he wanted in the village to open a waiting room for his clients to visit him and to stock an apothecary shop to provide medication for the villagers.

“There is something else,” Lord Ambrose murmured, staring at her in a way that was decidedly troubling…and arousing.

“Yes?” Then she winced at the breathless quality of her response.

“May I paint you?”

“Paint me?” she parroted inanely.

“Forgive me if I am too forward, but your skin is the most beautiful I’ve ever beheld, and your smile—I feel it should be immortalized on canvas.”

Lily stared at the marquess in ill-concealed shock. “I…I didn’t realize you painted,” she said, fumbling for equanimity at his praise. Here was a man who didn’t think she was too pale, or her lips too full, her mouth too wide. “I’ve never seen your paintings.”

“They are in a private room in the western wing of Belgrave Manor. There are only a few I trust to see them.”

“And I am in that category?” she asked skeptically.

“I never said I wanted to show you my work,” he replied with a charming quirk of his lips. “Only that I wish for you to sit for me.”

“Oh.” She winced at hardly containing her disappointment.

“I would make it worth your time, of course,” he assured smoothly.

Lily frowned. “In what regard?”

“Another five hundred pounds.”