He should say. “Are you open to us assisting each other?”
What was he suggesting?
“I am not that type of woman, Your Grace. I have self-respect and my innocence matters —”
She couldn’t finish the sentence. The Duke stared at her for a moment. Then, to her utter shock, he laughed.
It was a rusty sound, as though he didn’t laugh often. But it was genuine, transforming his severe features into something almost handsome.
“Miss Sinclair,” he said, still chuckling, “I assure you, I have no designs on your virtue. I am asking you to read financial documents and ledgers. Nothing more.”
The relief that flooded through Joan was so intense it left her lightheaded.
“I have certain duties that require clear vision. Accounts to review. Household ledgers to examine. Correspondence to read. My injury has made these tasks… difficult,” he said.
“But surely you have servants who could?—”
“I have a house full of servants,” he agreed. “But only a few whom I trust with my private affairs. You, however…” He paused, and that almost-smile appeared again. “You are desperate enough to be trustworthy. And you clearly have no designs on my title or fortune, given your complete disregard for propriety.”
Joan’s mind raced, trying to process what he was offering. “You want me to help read your accounts? To assist with your estate business?”
“Precisely.” He released her hand, though he kept hold of the walking stick, creating a connection between them. “In exchange, I will grant you use of the hall. And any other resources you need for your school.”
“Oh,” she managed. “Oh. I see. I—forgive me, I didn’t mean to suggest—that is, I wasn’t?—”
She was making it worse. Her face felt hot enough to set the curtains on fire.
“I will think about your offer, Your Grace,” she said quickly, dropping into a curtsy so deep she nearly lost her balance. “I thank you for your time and consideration. Good day.”
She turned and practically ran for the door, yanked it open, and hurried down the corridor with as much dignity as she could muster while moving at near-running speed.
Behind her, she heard the Duke’s low chuckle following her retreat.
CHAPTER FOUR
Joan’s hands were still trembling as Peters helped her down from the carriage.
What have I agreed to consider?she thought wildly.What manner of arrangement have I walked into?
She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice Victoria standing in the doorway until her sister called out.
“Joan! You’re back!”
Joan looked up to see Victoria hurrying down the steps, and her heart clenched at the sight. Her sister’s face held more color than it had in days, and there was something like hope flickering in her eyes.
Victoria threw her arms around Joan’s neck, embracing her with unexpected fervor. “I was so worried! You left before dawn without a word.”
“Hush, dearest.” Joan returned the embrace, holding her sister tight. “I’m perfectly well. I merely had an errand to attend to.”
Victoria pulled back, studying Joan’s face with sisterly scrutiny. “Your cheeks are flushed. And you look… flustered. What happened?”
“Nothing of consequence,” Joan said quickly, stepping around her sister and heading toward the house. “Come, let us go inside. It’s far too cold to be standing about.”
The drawing room had been transformed in Joan’s absence. Victoria, she realized with a pang of affection had removed all the holland covers and opened the curtains to let in the pale morning light. A fire crackled cheerfully in the grate, and the scent of cooking food wafted from the direction of the kitchens.
“You’ve been busy,” Joan observed, pulling off her gloves and bonnet.
Victoria smiled—a small, tentative thing, but genuine. “I couldn’t simply lie abed all day. And I thought… well, I thought perhaps if I made myself useful, I wouldn’t feel so…” She trailed off, her smile fading.
