“Which have grown the company from what I can tell,” Ellis said. “You oversee the libraries and have opened several in the past three years.”
That was true. Roman had been surprised by how much he liked working for Lacey and Company. After the death of his wife, he’d immersed himself even more in the business as a means of distraction. Whilst theirs had not been a love match, Roman had developed feelings for her. Unfortunately, they had not been reciprocated, a fact he’d learned before she became ill and that had greatly tainted the remainder of their time together.
“That is precisely why you must meet them,” Roman insisted. “You will be intrinsically involved in assisting me in my duties. You needn’t stay for our meeting—unless you want to. This is our fortnightly discussion of the books we’d like to publish and those we will not. As an avid reader, I thought that might interest you.”
Indeed, there was a light in Ellis’s eyes as he’d discussed the books, now and at other times over the past several days. “I suppose I could attend for a short while. But I shouldn’t be away from my desk for too long.” He set down his quill and rose. His movements carried a fluid grace that was much more attributable to a female.
Why was Roman so bloody focused on that?
Ignoring the query in his mind, Roman preceded Ellis from the study and went upstairs to the library. The shelves were far from full, and there was plenty of room for more cases. The seating area was cozy but lacked polish as the furnishings were more than ten years old. At least they matched and were of a fine quality, even if the fabric on the settee was faded. It was a library in progress, evidence of a marquess whose finances were wanting.
The Laceys were already seated—Josiah in a chair and the ladies, his wife Harriet and his daughter Margot, on the settee. Margot had a sheaf of papers on her lap.
“Good afternoon,” Roman said. “Allow me to introduce my new secretary, Daniel Ellis.” He paused whilst Josiah inclined his head, which sported thick, light brown waves, with only a hint of gray. He appeared younger than his fifty years.
“Ellis, this is Mr. Josiah Lacey, Mrs. Lacey, and Miss Lacey,” Roman continued. To him, they were family. Josiah had been a much kinder and overall better father than Roman’s own, and his nurse, who’d been with him until the age of eight, was the closest he’d had to a female parent. Harriet Lacey was warm, loving, and thoughtful—precisely what one would want in a mother.
His gaze briefly settled on Margot. At twenty-one, she was five years younger than her sister, who’d been Roman’s wife for two short years. With curly chestnut hair and dark-blue eyes like her mother, Margot was gregarious where Clarissa had been more quiet, even remote.
Clarissa was not at all the sort of woman Roman would have chosen to be his wife, but his duty demanded he wed an heiress, and she’d been the wealthiest choice with a dowry as well as an interest in her father’s business. He’d also been drawn to her quiet demeanor and fierce intelligence.
“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” Ellis said. He stood stiff straight with his hands clenched at his sides, making him appear nervous.
Josiah, a generally cheerful man, smiled at Ellis. His hazel eyes, that were so much like Roman’s late wife’s, lit with interest. “We’re so glad Keele has found a worthy secretary.” He was aware of the faults of Roman’s former secretary. Indeed, it was Josiah who’d encouraged Roman to replace the man.
“Let us sit.” Roman gestured Ellis toward an open chair near the one he moved to. The secretary moved tentatively, and when he sat, he did not sit against the back. Again, his posture reminded Roman of a woman.
“I’m quite keen to discuss our potential acquisitions,” Margot said enthusiastically. Her eyes sparked with anticipation as she looked from her parents to Roman.
“All in good time, dear.” Josiah chuckled as he looked toward Roman. “Margot is excited about a particular novel she read. In fact, she’s set a meeting with the author tomorrow. But I am moving ahead.” He waved his hand. “First, I want to discuss the next book from M.E. Tremaine. The Captain’s Daughter was a great success, and I believe the next one will be too.”
“Tremaine has written another book?” Ellis asked.
Everyone’s attention shifted to the secretary.
“Yes, The Heiress of Tidehaven.”
Ellis was suddenly quite engaged, and his apparent nervousness disappeared. “Another coastal romance?”
“Indeed,” Josiah replied. “The heiress inherits a manor and is beset by suitors.”
Roman met Ellis’s gaze, which was rather animated. “Have you read The Captain’s Daughter?”
“I have,” he replied with enthusiasm. “I found the story most riveting. Tremaine’s style is both familiar and somehow singular. Charlotte was very well-written. I—that is, my sisters said they identified with her greatly. I appreciated Lieutenant Moreton’s honor and quiet dignity.” He glanced toward Josiah. “I didn’t realize you were the publisher.”
Josiah’s features gleamed with pride. “I’m pleased to hear your sisters enjoyed the novel. They are the readers we hope to reach.”
“The description snared their interest immediately,” Ellis said.
Josiah’s dark brows arched. “Did it? Margot wrote that.” He sent a proud look toward his daughter.
“It was very well done,” Ellis noted with a nod at Margot. “I tried to help someone write something similar for a novel they wrote, and it’s more difficult than one would think.”
“Thank you,” Margot replied with a gleeful smile. “It can be challenging. Though I think writing a novel would be much harder. In fact, I’m struggling with writing something for Tremaine’s next story.” She turned her focus to her father. “Perhaps Mr. Ellis should read The Heiress of Tidehaven. Then he could assist me with writing a description. It certainly sounds as though he shares our appreciation for Miss Tremaine.” She grimaced briefly. “Oh dear, now I’ve exposed our author’s gender, and she’d hoped her identity would remain secret.”
“I won’t say a word,” Ellis vowed sincerely. “Not even to my sisters.”
“Thank you,” Margot replied with an expression of relief. “What do you think, Papa?”
