“That I am of no particular value to anyone, my lord. I have no funds, nor any hope of securing them. I have no happy talents. My interests are pedestrian and unlikely to change. I cannot say that I have any particular accomplishments. I do not play the pianoforte. Neither do I sing, paint, embroider, or ride. It would take considerable time to name all the things I cannot do, do not want to do, and will not do, so I hope you will spare us both that exercise.”
Griffin was silent a moment, taking it in. “I see. Then tell me why I should keep you here.”
“I can think of no reason.” She all but leapt to her feet.
“You are not an exclamation point, Miss Cole. Sit down.”
She sat. Slowly. “It seemed you were on the point of dismissing me.”
“You would do well not to assume you know the bent of my mind.” He leaned forward in his chair and set his forearms and folded hands on the desk. Tapping his thumbs lightly, he regarded Olivia Cole without expression. He owned that she suffered his direct study without demonstrating the least discomfort. Judging by the angle of her chin and the brightness in her eyes, she was preparing to challenge him if he gave her cause.
“Let us be clear, Miss Cole, that even if you are the single most unaccomplished female of my acquaintance, you are still worth a sum of £1,000. That your brother would have me believe you are worth something more than that, I am willing to credit to his affection for you and a healthy regard for his own skin. He could hardly say you were worth less, then offer you—however temporarily—in place of his debt. You can agree with that, can’t you?”
Although it was reluctantly offered, Olivia nodded shortly.
“It is also true, though perhaps not so obvious, that the longer you remain under my roof, the larger your brother’s debt grows and your worth increases. I cannot conceive that you are less expensive to accommodate than any other of the females that I know.”
“Perhaps you will be pleasantly surprised, my lord. I do not require that you accommodate me. In deference to my brother’s predicament, you can rest assured that I will ask for as little as necessary to assure my survival.”
“Then I will be surprised. It is my experience that women who begin by having the fewest needs soon come to a place where they must needs have it all. If you prove to be the exception, your brother and I will both have cause to thank you.”
“Might I know what your intentions are?” asked Olivia.
“My intentions? Yes, I suppose they are uppermost in your mind. I believe I mentioned that you will have a room prepared for you, be attended by a physician, eat a meal that you can keep down, and have the comfort of your own possessions as they will be brought here. Other than the visit by the physician, I imagine every day will be like every other. You will eat, rest, entertain yourself, and stay well away from the activities in this house.”
Olivia listened to this and knew a profound sense of relief. It struck her that perhaps she should have had more faith in Alastair’s judgment. He had been in desperate straits, true enough, to suggest that Breckenridge accept her in place of the ring, but he hadn’t precisely sent her into a lion’s den. The viscount was not without scruples, it seemed, and he appeared to have no designs upon her person. She was under no illusions that Alastair’s admonition to Breckenridge that he show more care for her than he’d shown for the ring carried the weight of threat with his lordship. He would do as he pleased.
“I should like to return to my residence to pack my things,” Olivia said. She held out no real hope that he would allow it, but it was not an unreasonable suggestion.
“No. Your maid, or someone you deem better able to make decisions regarding your wardrobe, will have to do it. Otherwise, the task will fall upon someone of my choosing.”
“As you wish. I think I should offer some explanation for my absence, don’t you?”
“And so it begins,” he said under his breath. “She who has no needs is already asking for paper, pen, and ink.” He pushed all of it in her direction. “You may compose your missive here. Be certain that I intend to read it.”
Pulling her chair closer to the edge of his desk, Olivia murmured her agreement. With Breckenridge poised to take the paper immediately from her possession, she had little choice but to be brief and believable. She considered several different introductions, then decided that bold was best.
Olivia barely lifted the quill as she wrote, waiting until her words disappeared to nothingness before she deigned to dip her pen in the ink. She scratched out five sentences, read them over for legibility and accuracy, then signed her name. The ink had not yet dried when Breckenridge took it from her.
“Who is Mrs. Beck?” he asked, glancing up at her.
“Our housekeeper.”
“She will not question this?”
“I don’t believe so. She suspected Mr. Fairley and Mr. Varah were from Bow Street, and she is aware we spent very little time together before I left with them. I think she will be relieved to learn that they were friends of Alastair come to take me to him. As he has been gone from the house most of this last sennight, it seems reasonable to suggest that he has fallen ill and that I am to attend him.”
“You make no mention of where that is precisely.”
“I thought you might suggest something. It is not appropriate that I should put this residence.”
Griffin conceded the point. “Very well. To allay the concerns of your staff and avoid any true confrontation with Bow Street, let us agree your brother is recuperating at Wright Hall in Surrey.”
“Really?” she asked. “Surrey? Why there?”
“Because that is bloody hell where I say he is.”
She blinked.
