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“A w—” She stopped, her pretty rosebud mouth falling open. “But good heavens, why?”

His lips twitched and he said mildly, “Will you let me explain?”

She nodded.

“I am an antiquities scholar,” he began.

“Yes, I know, quite a famous one—I recognized your name earlier. I’ve read several of your papers.”

He flushed, inordinately pleased by her words.

“I have received a commission from the Antiquaries Society to undertake the cataloguing of artifacts and dig sites in the southern and middle counties.”

“That was mentioned in the advertisement. It sounds most exciting!” she said with a smile and brightening of her eyes.

His heart gave a kind of leap at this sign of enthusiasm for the work. “Yes! It is very exciting; I’m heartened that you think so.” He stopped. He hadn’t thought the rest would be difficult to explain. It was a business arrangement after all, but with her sitting there looking flushed and pretty and excited, he was suddenly tongue-tied and awkward. A business arrangement was supposed to take the emotion out of it, but his heart was beating far too fast and his stomach churning. He hadn’t bargained on her being pretty. But surely, he would grow accustomed to that—her prettiness. Once he got used to it, perhaps it wouldn’t bother him so.

He swallowed. “I’m not a social man! I don’t find it easy to talk to—talk to people.”

“I don’t either,” she said.

“I don’t like parties, and I can’t dance—”

“I don’t like dancing either!” She leaned forward, smiling. She was so pretty it almost stopped his tongue altogether.

“I despaired of ever finding a woman I could bear to be in the same room with, let alone”—he could feel himself going red as a beet, like he’d been out in the sun all day—“marry,” he finished doggedly. “A friend of mine suggested I advertise for someone who might share my interests. So I did, and here you are.” He swallowed again and waited for her to get up and walk out, to run in terror from the madman who thought he could get a wife via advertisement. What was I thinking?

“I see,” she said slowly. “I don’t quite know what to say.” He peeked at her face. She didn’t appear to be terrified, and she hadn’t run—yet. “I was running away from a marriage proposal I didn’t want. I wasn’t expecting to run into one from a stranger.”

Heartened a little, he said hesitantly, “I was going to suggest that it be in name only initially, until we got used to each other. Or decided that we didn’t suit after all, in which case it could be annulled and no harm done.”

She gasped, and he watched her, worried he’d gone too far. She must think he was insane. He probably was, he thought gloomily. If she wasn’t prepared to run yet, she would once she got to know him a bit better. He was impossible. He knew it.

“That sounds like a perfect solution.”

“Really?” He couldn’t believe his ears. Raising his eyes to her face, he found she was smiling.

She nodded.

“Are you sure?” He bit his lower lip, best to make a clean breast of everything, so she knew what she was getting. “I’m not an easy man to live with. I’m very set in my ways. I like routine. I don’t like it being disrupted. I have quite exacting standards, too, academically. I will expect a very high quality of output from my secretary.” And he added, conscientiously, “I am hopelessly insensitive. I’m not emotional. In fact, I’m quite cold and lacking in affection. I don’t do pretty speeches, and I don’t tolerate stupidity. I’m quick tempered and frequently bellow at people if I’m not happy with them.”

“Are you as bad as all that?”

“Worse,” he said hollowly. He realized he’d been fiddling with Kester’s ears while he talked and stopped. “Look,” he said, leaning forward. “I’ll give you tonight to think about it. We can spend the day going over the project, so you understand what’s involved. And if you change your mind tomorrow morning, I’ll send you home in my carriage. I won’t have you riding on the stagecoach, it’s not fitting. By your speech and the quality of your clothes, you are clearly a lady.” He wondered who her parents were and whether he should make an effort to get her to tell him. Clearly, she didn’t want to return home. If her mother was mistreating her like that, he didn’t blame her.

She flushed. “Very well. You’re most kind, but I won’t change my mind.”

“Don’t speak too soon,” he said, rising, his heart lighter than it had been in a while. “I will get Mrs. Blackthorn to make up a room for you. You would like to wash and change perhaps, before we begin?”

She nodded, rising. “Thank you.” She added shyly, “Would you introduce me to your dog?”

“Of course. This is Kester. Sit and give a paw, Kes.” Miss Bromwich bent toward him, and Kester bundled across to her, his plumy, red tail wagging, sat and offered a paw. She took the paw and petted an ear with her other hand.

“You are a gorgeous boy, aren’t you?” she cooed. Kester stared up at her adoringly and Deo’s heart did this odd little leap.

“How old is he?” she asked.

“Four. He’s just starting to grow out of the puppy phase. Irish Setters are slow to mature.” He glanced at the clock; it was after eleven. “He’s missed his walk. I normally take him at ten. In fact, I was heading out just as you arrived. I’d best take him now. I’ll see you in my study at twelve?”