“Her London townhouse,” she continued, ignoring him. “Or her country estate.”
“To be clear, she wasn’t from my social set.”
Again, the past tense. Further, she’d caught a note in his voice, a note that lingered for an instant in his eyes. Was that…pain?
She must ignore whatever emotion she detected in his eyes, which was surely none of her concern, and refuse him, for three simple reasons.
He was Nick’s brother.
He only saw her as a means to a lark.
He set her nerves ajangle with a mere glance.
“I have quite a few jobs in the queue that will fill my time for the foreseeable future.”
She had one job lined up. And one to finish. She glanced down at Sir Bacon, sitting at her feet, licking parts that should remain private. He truly had no manners.
“Now, if that is all,” she said, hoping to speed this encounter to its inevitable end. “I do have a day to get on with.” She inched toward the door.
The man didn’t move a muscle. “I’ll pay double your going rate.”
The words about to fly from her mouth fell to the floor.Double?Temptation, sly and beguiling, lifted its head and posed a question.What if—
She didn’t allow it to finish. She must refuse. She simply could not get mixed up with Nick’s too attractive, aristocratic brother who might make the blood fizz in her veins. “While I appreciate the generosity of your offer, I must decline—”
“Triple.”
The reasons for her refusal grew hazy.Triple?How difficult could it be to find one woman who, by the sound of it, wasn’t alive?
“But you don’t know the amount you are tripling,” she said, giving him another opportunity to regain his senses and see the ridiculousness of the situation.
Face set in inscrutable granite, he stood and strode—did the man walk any other way?—to the escritoire, which had seen better days, judging by the deep scratches and scuffs scarring its surface. He began rifling through drawers until his hand emerged holding a scrap of paper, which he immediately set about scribbling upon. Then he strode to where she stood and stopped not three feet away, paper extended.
His scent reached out and enveloped her in its now familiar notes of birchwood and patchouli. Resisting the urge to inhale deeply of his delicious aroma, she took the scrap.
“That is the sum I’m willing to pay if you agree to the job.”
She glanced down, and her pulse ticked up into a full tilt run. Could that number be true?
She blinked. The sum remained the same.
It could, and it was.
The number on this insignificant scrap of paper represented a year’s worth of spying on aristocratic men’s cheating wives, and vice versa. He’d made it impossible to refuse, and his arrogant expression said he knew it.
His cool gray gaze narrowed. “I have two conditions.”
Her body went rigid with tension.Conditions.Of course. There always were when dealing with powerful men. They were so very accustomed to having their every thought and desire catered to. Why should he expect anything less in this instance?
Well, he would see.
She crossed her arms. Sir Bacon, sensing the change in her demeanor, gave a little growl. “The first condition?”
“Nothing nefarious, I can assure you. It’s simple, really.”
She braced herself.
“I accompany you.”
