for.” He waved his hand dismissively. It was a rather beautiful hand, large and veined and masculine, and she had a quick image of that hand stroking up her back. “The Bazaar will benefit from your presence. We need sharp minds. And I’m nothing if not motivated by pure self-interest. I wanted you here.”
A small explosion of pleasure went off in her chest, though it was dangerous to feel it. “Again,” she said, “you are excessively kind.”
“I’m not excessively anything.” He shrugged, but the movement was sleek and drew attention to his superbly tailored coat, and the shoulders that filled it.
“That is untrue, and we both know it. You are the definition of excess.”
He laughed again, and the world narrowed so that it contained only them. “You are indeed a hawk. No one but a bird of prey can strike with such cutting accuracy.”
“And wolves take particular delight in the hunt.” She was freed from the cage that being a hired companion had locked around her. And he seemed to enjoy her own pleasure in being unchained. “I do agree with you that adding me to the Bazaar will benefit it.”
“A bold claim. Some of the country’s most esteemed financial minds are within that room.”
“They don’t know what I know.” She tapped a finger to her temple.
“I do not doubt that.” His gaze was equal parts sensuality and intelligence. And entirely admiring. “My lady.” He bowed and then moved into the drawing room.
There was a knock from downstairs. From her vantage on the landing, she could observe the butler opening the door. A man with slicked hair stood on the step, a portfolio beneath his arm. She couldn’t quite hear what the man said, but the tone of the butler’s response made it plain that his presence wasn’t welcome. The door closed firmly as the man on the step protested piteously for entrance.
“Damn importunate rascals,” Lord Trask muttered beside her. “Every year, they turn up, hands out, begging for entrance, and every year, I have them turned away.”
“How unfortunate,” Jess said. For them, she added silently. Minutes earlier, she’d been one of their number.
“One came in as a guest,” the marquess continued, his expression grim. “Pretended as if he was here to take part in the Bazaar. But he gave himself away.”
“Gave himself away?” Cold trepidation inched up her back.
“In truth, what he was actually here to do was drum up investors in his own scheme.” Lord Trask scowled. “Thought he was so clever, slipping hints, ingratiating himself, and then, ‘Oh, I happen to have a venture in need of funding,’” he said in a nasal voice. “Bah! I had Stapleton show him the door as soon as I rooted him out. A blackguard and conniver.”
“Indeed,” Jess murmured. “What a dreadful person.”
She made herself smile serenely. Inside, however, she felt as though she stood on the edge of a cliff, waving her arms to keep herself from plummeting down.
She needed a new strategy—one that was so subtle, so carefully deployed, that not even the highly sensitized Lord Trask would be aware of her maneuvering.
“Suppose I ought to introduce you to the others.” Lord Trask held out his arm.
She placed her hand on the marquess’s sleeve. Not but a few days ago, she was fetching Lady Catherton’s hat and making certain that her mistress’s luncheon was appropriately hot when it was served, and now here she was, walking on the arm of one of England’s most significant people.
“What did His Grace mean about Bond Street?” Lord Trask asked. “I gather you encountered him there and made something of an impression.”
She made an offhand gesture. “He was receiving poor counsel from some hangers-on—I simply offered better advice.”
The marquess lowered his voice. “A bit of a comet, the duke. Dazzling as he streaks across the firmament.”
“Who attracts his fair share of satellites.” On Bond Street, he’d been trailed by hangers-on, and was clearly used to being the center of attention.
How he felt about being the center of attention, that was a matter of greater study. It was as though he did enjoy being the most important man within a mile radius, and also found it a bit tiresome.
“They all revolve around him,” Lord Trask said, “but they never stay in orbit for long.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t know much about how astronomy works, but the duke possesses his own physics, and he’s got a way of loosening his gravity whenever his interest wanes.” Lord Trask gave Jess a look fraught with meaning.