Charles blinked. Blinked again. “I’m sorry, sir, but I thought I heard you say that she would help in my investigation.”
“You heard correctly.” Summerset slouched on the desk, his lips pinched.
Charles looked at the woman. He must be missing the joke. She was young, perhaps early twenties. The gown she wore was a soft lavender, well-made but had seen one too many years. Her chestnut hair was tucked up under her bonnet in a serviceable fashion, and her blue eyes stared placidly back at him.
She was altogether forgettable. Innocent. And soft-looking. Not someone who should be anywhere near an inquiry investigation. “My lord, I must protest. I know you and Wilberforce have discussed employing a secretary in the past, but a young lady shouldn’t be the one to copy and file the notes of our investigations. The subject matters we deal with can be too brutal for feminine eyes.”
Lady Mary snorted. “Johnnie, I thought you only employed intelligent men.”
Summerset pointed at Lady Mary with his lorgnette. “Quiet, you old termagant. And don’t call me ‘Johnnie.’” He hopped off the desk and ran his hand through his blond hair. The expertly coiled locks sprang back into place. “Don’t act like he doesn’t have a point. For the most part, women don’t belong anywhere near this business.”
“Thank you, sir.” Charles’s shoulders lowered an inch. “I’m sure Miss Morris—”
“Moore.” The woman spoke for the first time. She smoothed her hands down her lap. “My name is Moore.”
He nodded. “I’m sure Miss Moore is talented and organized—”
He was interrupted again, this time by another snort from Lady Mary. Charles pressed on. “—but she is hardly appropriate as our clerk.”
“I agree.” Summerset clapped his hands together.
“Oh, lord,” Wilberforce muttered.
Summerset glared at the man’s back. “Miss Moore isn’t going to be a clerk here. She is going to be your assistant. She’ll be going with you on your investigations and assisting in your fact-finding.”
Charles’s arms fell nerveless to his sides. “You cannot be serious.”
Summerset arched an eyebrow. “Deadly so. Lady Mary has convinced me Miss Moore might be useful. And as you are at a dead-end with your investigation as it is, she might be just the thing to shake things loose.”
“I’ll do my best, my lord.” Miss Moore clasped her hands together primly. “I appreciate the opportunity.”
Charles stiffened his spine. “Lord Summerset, again, I must protest.”
Summerset waved his hand through the air. “You can protest all you want, but it won’t do any good. A force greater than the both of us has prevailed.” He shot Lady Mary a dark look. “All you need do is make the best of it.”
“But—”
“Is that understood?” The smile remained on Summerset’s face, but his voice didn’t match it.
Charles sighed. “Yes, sir.” It wasn’t his place to question his superiors, after all. Even when they were making asinine decisions.
“Excellent.” Summerset slid his lorgnette back in his pocket. “Lady Mary, my house for dinner? Netta would love to see you.”
“I can’t tonight. I already have plans.” She rose, leaning on her cane. Miss Moore stood silently beside her.
“Not with that Murray fellow?” Summerset opened the door and led her into the main office. “I hear you were seen on his arm at the opera and at that assembly at the Carson’s house. Really Auntie May? Murray?”
Charles gritted his teeth. Who the hell cared about Lady Mary’s social engagements? She’d just foisted a naïve young woman on the agency. He stood to the side of the doorway and waited for the intruder to pass.
Miss Moore nodded her head at him as she went by, the scents of lilies and oranges lingering in her wake.
“You think he’s too young for me?” Lady Mary asked archly.
“I think he’s too stupid.”
Hurst and Verity smothered chuckles, keeping their heads low to their desks.
Lady Mary paused at the front door of the office and shrugged. “He really is dull, but he’s pretty, and his attempts to seduce money from me are quite diverting.” She looked over Summerset’s shoulder. “You’ll be all right?” she asked Miss Moore.
