“You mean him. I will not be able to get the money by myself.”
He grimaced, showing his teeth. “That is why it must be a man you trust.”
She let the silence hang. He leaned against the wall as he studied her.
“I could set up the account for you. I would give you full access and instruct the bank to respect your requests, but you do not trust me, so that is no inducement.”
“Are you so powerful that you could force them to honor your statement? Or would they forget again and again until you have to intervene?” She had heard Mrs. Dove-Lyon fume about just this problem, and that lady was a widow in control of a lucrative gambling den.
“That is a cynical thought.”
She didn’t respond. She didn’t have to.
“But not a false one, I gather.” His expression turned grumpy. “If I could find a way for you to control your money, then would you paint something for me?”
“One tiger does not rule the jungle.”
He snorted, a low sound that was as much grunt as laugh. “I am the tiger in this scenario?”
She certainly wasn’t.
“Well, this tiger has done business in many countries and with many banks.” He lifted his chin. “I will see this handled, Miss Lina, to your satisfaction.” He straightened off the wall as he looked at her. “But I get the impression that it wouldn’t matter, would it? It’s not about the money.”
He was a perceptive tiger.
“Can you explain to me why you will not consider selling your paintings?”
Because the very thought made her entire body itch. “They are mine, Lord Daniels.”
“Yes, of course they are. Why won’t you let me sell them?”
“Because they are mine.”
He frowned at her. He didn’t do anything more, and she was watching for every minute shift in his body in preparation for an attack. Nothing happened except his frown.
“You will not explain?”
She forced herself to find the words. “My paintings are my thoughts, my feelings—”
“Yes, of course. That’s why—”
“Listen!” She waited a moment while he pressed his lips together. “I was six years old when I began work as playmate and servant to the first daughter of the local Mandarin. My days and nights were given to that child until we were both grown. When her brother began to see me in a new way, his father sold me to a ship captain headed to England.” She did not tell him that it was her painting that revealed the love between her and the boy. Her first and only love turned into disaster. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon won me in a dice game and now I work for her.” She looked into the tiger man’s eyes and pleaded with him. “My paintings are not work, and they are not a thing to be sold like chattel. They are my feelings and heart stroked onto a page as a way of releasing them. To sell such a thing would be to sell anger or happiness. It is not possible.”
“It is possible. Indeed, I do it every day.”
She shook her head.
“Well,” he finally said, “I hope I can change your mind. Meanwhile, let me know if you need anything while working on the ledgers.”
She straightened, completely thrown. “I thought that was a ruse.”
He shrugged. “It was a convenience. I want you to study the ledgers and report to me if you find any errors.”
“Do you think there are any?”
“I don’t know. The steward is an ass, but that doesn’t mean he’s a cheat. And since I would like you to remain here while we get to know one another, I have hired you to do that task. Are you willing?”
“It is what Mrs. Dove-Lyon told me to do.”
