Miss Danby lived in a very well-to-do house on Baker Street, just north of Portman Square. Before he even rapped on the knocker, Lyman had judged her to be excessively wealthy, but a glimpse inside confirmed it. The marble-tiled floor at the entry echoed each click of his shoes. Above him, an enormous chandelier cast light and shadow over the hall. It reminded him of the one that had hung in his old country house.
Don’t think of the house now.But it was too late. The thought had popped into his head, and once it did, it would follow him all day like a bad penny. His first meeting with Miss Danby hadn’t even begun and he already regretted it.
He was shown into a sunny pink drawing room where Miss Danby and her sister awaited him. The mysterious parents and brother were nowhere to be seen.
“Don’t mind me,” Miss Annabelle said, after their obligatory greetings. “I’m just here to make this whole endeavor more, er…proper. I won’t interfere with your work one bit.” With that, she returned to her seat, opened a book, and began to read.
“Don’t be fooled, my lord,” Miss Danby said, taking a place next to her sister on the divan. “She’s thrilled to join us this morning.”
Miss Annabelle pursed her lips, but refused to rise to her older sister’s bait.
Lyman took the armchair across from them. This room was as opulent as the rest of the house, boasting large windows overlooking their courtyard, a Persian carpet, and a smattering of paintings on the walls. They weren’t the amateurish product of a family member, either. He recognized a Fuseli among them.
“Would you care for some tea?”
“Thank you.”
Miss Danby rose to ring for the maid. Lyman studied her as she moved, though he couldn’t have said whether the instinct was born from a desire to regain the upper hand on the woman who’d outmaneuvered him recently or from a more licentious motive.
It was impossible not to notice how attractive she was. The sway of her generous hips drew his gaze as she walked away from him, despite Lyman’s best efforts not to be distracted. When she’d tugged the cord on the wall and returned to her seat, he was struck by that flawless face. Full, pink lips, always parted in a smile. The healthy flush of excitement on her round, smooth cheeks. And the most arresting part of her—eyes dark and full of mischief that was half challenge, half promise.
No good can come of this.
There was no denying Miss Danby’s beauty. Judging from her house, the family had money. Such a woman could have found herself a good match, if she put away her scandalous pastimes and applied herself to the task. Why hadn’t she? She must have been out for many years already.
“Do your parents know what you’re doing?” he asked. He’d never been one to mince words. Before his fall from grace, no one wouldhave dared to remonstrate a wealthy and titled gentleman. The habit had lingered, even now that his status was diminished.
“Of course.” Miss Danby spoke as if it were obvious. Seeing his skepticism, she added, “They trust my judgment.”
No doubt this went a long way toward explaining how she found herself co-owner of a gaming hell and aspiring author of a book of ladies’ amusements. A bit more parental oversight might have done her some good.
The maid came in with their tea. Miss Danby looked at him expectantly. “Where shall we start, my lord?”
Was he meant to plan things out for her?
“It’s your project,” he pointed out. “You were adamant you could do it yourself.”
“And you were adamant you deserved twenty pounds ofmyprofits, in exchange for a contribution that has not yet been revealed to me.”
“Would you prefer I left?”
Perhaps she would say yes and save them both some trouble. Then he could return to his own work, free of the unwelcome temptation she represented.
“No.”Damn.But then, he’d never been lucky. “If you’re going to take your cut, I would prefer that you earn it. Your experience must give yousomethingto contribute. Maybe you can start by being a bit less critical. You did volunteer for this, you know.”
Miss Danby took a long sip of her tea while Lyman tried to ignore the way her upper lip formed a perfect Cupid’s bow as she brought it to the rim of her cup.
She wasn’t wrong. That was the most infuriating part. With a heavy sigh, Lyman replied, “I apologize, Miss Danby. I’m anxious to finish up my own work, and I’m afraid it’s coming through in my deportment. But you’re right, I agreed to help you and I’m beingcompensated for it, so I will try to show you greater civility from now on.”
There was no sense bickering with her every week. The time would pass faster if they got on.
His confession seemed to surprise Miss Danby, but her tone was warmer as she replied, “Thank you.”
“Why don’t we start by agreeing to some terms for my contribution that we both consider fair.” It was important to keep their expectations in step. “I can make time to meet with you once a week, for a half hour, to answer any questions you might have and to see how you’re progressing. In turn, you should aim to complete an initial draft in the next four to six weeks.”
There. No one could say he hadn’t given her a chance. He would educate Miss Danby as best he could. But there would be a limit, to prevent this obligation from entwining them without any end.
“That doesn’t sound like enough time.” She bit her lower lip as she considered, and Lyman’s eyes were stuck to the sight. This would be much easier if she were plain. Or if he hadn’t been quite so long without feminine companionship. That must be why she kept drawing him in so effortlessly. “I attend my chocolate house nearly every evening to supervise. My days are quite full.”
