Lynch waved his hand. “If the cat’s away, there’s no harm running loose in the larder.”
“Your forbearance is appreciated.” She sipped at her whiskey. It was coarse and rough drinking, but it reminded her of home, and helped firm her resolve. “Truth is, I’m attempting something that’s more than a little mad.”
“You’re young enough,” he said easily. “Exactly the time of life when we can be mad.”
“I’m young,” she said grimly, “but some days I feel so old. They’re counting on me.”
“Who is?”
“My brother and sister.” She rubbed her thumb along the rim of her cup, a small movement, and the only one she felt capable of just then. Weariness lay heavy along her limbs. “I’m the eldest, and it’s up to me to take care of them. I thought I had a means to do so. But that plan was scuttled and I’m fighting to get another off the ground. There’s a methodology to it, yet I have to make everything up as I go.”
She dropped her head and used her free hand to rub her forehead.
Lynch whistled. “Carrying a full load, that’s for certain. What’s the next step?”
“Plant some seeds,” she said. “Drop hints. Be subtle as hell. The trick is to make the other person believe it’s their idea, and then praise them to the heavens for coming up with such a brilliant notion.”
“Wily,” Lynch said, but there was admiration in his voice. “Obstacles?”
“Many. And a distraction, too. A very handsome, seductive distraction.” She had to keep away from the duke, but the trouble was that she didn’t want to. Not when he had revealed a hidden part of himself to her, showing her that he was far more complex than anyone believed.
With Fred and Cynthia counting on her, and their mother’s words hanging over Jess’s head, she could not allow herself to be led astray by dark, alluring eyes.
Get the job done. Play her part. That was what she had to do. But in order to act the role of lady, there were things that needed addressing.
“I’m certain you know London better than I,” she said. “Where might I go to hire myself an abigail? Temporarily, of course.” She had the money that Lady Catherton had sent to her, and from that she could draw a maid’s fee. Today, she’d found one of her employer’s more simple gowns, but if she was to attend the Bazaar for four more days as a baronet’s widow, she would have to dip into Lady Catherton’s wardrobe, and wearing those garments required assistance.
“There’s a hiring agency near Finsbury Square that’ll set you up nice and proper. Give me ten minutes to hitch up the cattle and take you there.”
“It’s not an easy thing for me to ask for help,” Jess said sincerely. “So I thank you for yours.” She placed a hand on his ropy forearm.
He covered her hand with his own. “There now, miss. Us folk who earn our coin the hard way, we’ve got to see after each other. If we don’t, nobody will. Not them upstairs, that’s for certain.”
“Not them upstairs.” As thrilling as it had been to flirt with the duke, the hard truth of it was that she needed to keep her attention firmly fixed to her objective. Tomorrow, she would continue her campaign to find investors for McGale & McGale.
She would gently prod the guests to find who would be most interested in funding the business’s rebuilding and expansion. She had not been able to speak to all of them today, and she had to make certain she didn’t make any critical errors moving forward.
It might be easy to approach the duke about securing financing from him—but the pull between them made it impossible. She would not use their attraction in that way.
A shame. The duke was gorgeous and, under other circumstances, she would have relished the chance to flirt with him.
Her family, both living and dead, counted on her. The duke was an indulgence and temptation, and she could not yield to either—but, damn, how she wished otherwise.
Noel had never walked up the stairs to Lord Trask’s drawing room with as much energy as he did this morning.
That energy dimmed slightly as he stepped into the chamber and scanned the guests—only to find that Lady Whitfield was not there. It merely meant that she hadn’t yet arrived, but her absence hit him with an unreasonable disappointment.
“Looks like you could use some motivation,” Mr. Walditch said as he approached. “We’ve been helping