His rational brain, at last, asserted itself. What was he thinking? Among other things, this woman was an aristocrat. One didn’t offer to make such a lady one’s mistress in exchange for a townhouse, even one located in Mayfair. “Would you care to elaborate on your proposition then?”
“It’s simple,” she said. “I’m in need of a new residence, and I’ve exhausted all acceptable options for obtaining one.” Her eyes told him what her lips wouldn’t: there was more to this story. And she wouldn’t be revealing it to him today.
Was she aware how near her body was to his? How easily he could reach up, cup the back of her head in the palm of his hand, and draw her face toward his . . . He cleared his throat, as if his mind could be cleared with as little effort.Focus. “No doubt the Duke—”
“I would like to accomplish this transaction without the Duke’s knowledge.”
“Behind his back?”
“The Duke isn’t to know until the purchase is finalized.”
“The man clearly dotes on you.” Jake didn’t relish the idea of going against the Duke of Arundel. “He would give you anything you wish.”
“I need to accomplish this on my own.” She hesitated. “With your assistance, of course.”
He didn’t like the hard edge racing alongside her words, but that was the world they inhabited. Like that, he understood something central to this woman: she wanted to forge a life on her own terms.
“And in exchange—” she began.
“You will help Mina gain entry into this school,” he finished for her.
She nodded. “All must be done in your name and through your solicitors. I require absolute discretion from you. And, of course, this won’t be a gift. I shall reimburse you with my own funds. In fact, I can’t imagine there will be any need to involve you beyond the use of your solicitors and, of course, your noble name.”
“On the contrary, my lady,” he persisted, “I couldn’t, in good conscience, allow you to navigate the vagaries of the townhouse hunt unescorted. It would be ungentlemanly.”
“Lord St. Alban, I must decline your most generous offer,” she countered. “I need only your solicitors and your name, not your . . .person.” Her mouth snapped shut on that last word, and she shifted on her feet, a habit of hers. “Secrecy would best serve both of us. Your hunt for a proper stepmother for your daughter needn’t be compromised if no one knows of your dealings with the scandalous Lady Olivia Montfort.”
What was that strange, sharp note he detected in her tone? If he knew her better, he might suspect resentment. But he didn’t really know her. Not yet, anyway.
He held his tongue, and waited. It wouldn’t do his cause any good to keep arguing his point. But that didn’t mean he’d ceded it.
This bargain was exactly what he needed. Here she stood before him, offering him this opportunity like it was her idea:time. Her time, even though she had yet to accept that fact. She would lead him to this Jiro, and Mina’s future would be secure. All he had to do was spend time with her.
Now to extricate himself from this desk and properly shake on their arrangement before she reconsidered her proposal. Another chance like this wouldn’t land in his lap again. If he wiggled left—
“You’re ridiculous in that desk.” The side of her mouth tilted up into a mean, little smile. It was more charming than it had a right to be.
He stopped cold. “I think that was the idea.”
“You wouldn’t be the first man to regret underestimating Mrs. Bloomquist.”
Again, he began muscling his way to freedom, and her mouth crept wider into a smile that revealed the tip of her crooked tooth. He saw with no small amount of gratification that when he stood, the mean, little smile slipped.
How very small and vulnerable she could appear in the blink of an eye. That curious instinct to protect her pulsed through him, and he squelched it. Instead, he held out his hand. “Lady Olivia, you have a bargain.”
Pointedly, her gaze lowered and returned to his eyes. “Gentlemen do not shake hands.”
“Sailors do.”
Her fingers inched forward until they touched his as gently as a butterfly alighting upon a petal. He squeezed her silk-gloved hand within his grasp and gave it a quick shake. A surprised laugh escaped her, and their eyes met, holding for a beat too long. Her smile faded.
She dropped his hand like a hot coal and stepped backward until her skirts touched the wall at the front of the room. Afraid to move and break the spell, he held still. In a matter of seconds, he could close the gap and have her pressed against the chalkboard, legs wrapped around his waist.
But what good would that accomplish? No good. None at all. Untold depths resided within this woman. If her depths could be reached, how far would he have to fall?
She blinked once, twice, swallowed, and the moment was gone. “I expect to hear from your solicitors in the next few days,” she murmured, her gaze refusing to meet his one last time. She neatly rounded the corner and stepped out of sight.
Alone in the room with his thoughts for company, a possibility came to him. A possibility unworthy of a gentleman. But he was a man who shook hands, so what sort of gentleman was he, anyway?
