Page 26 of His Mistress, His Muse, and Other Madness
“Yes. But he calls it information gathering. In that way, we’re rather in the same business. But we dispose of the information in different ways.”
“You expose sins.”
“And he places tutors and governesses in the perfect positions to support the families who seek his help.”
She perked up, her eyes brightening. “Do you think he’ll help me? Find the right instructors for my school? I’m sure to need more, and once I can afford to pay the instructors, I would be able to hire more.”
“You can’t afford him.”
Her face scrunched together. “If he’s so well-off, why does your family not rely on him to solve the coffers problem?”
“Because the lion’s share of his commission goes right to the tutors and governesses who work for him. Most of them do not wish to teach their entire lives. They’re gentlemen and ladies, poor relations, third and fourth sons, orphans and unwanted daughters who require a means of moving forward, of surviving the moment. His agency helps them. Trains them, connects them with the right households, negotiates their salaries. And he gets a cut. But refuses to take a large one.” He wasn’t living off Maggie’s hospitality, at least, like Theo.
Lady Cordelia’s lips quivered. If she attempted to suppress a smile, she failed. It broke her lips apart and plumped up her cheeks anyway. “Your brother is an angel, and you’re a gargoyle.”
“If you insist.”
“I do.” She pressed her palms flat against the glass. “We’re here.”
And they were. Buildings grew around them in size and number, and people appeared, spilling from every direction.
“Have you ever been to Manchester before?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I spent my life in Kent until my first season five years ago. And I have been in London since then.” She cast a glance at him before looking out the window once more. “It’s so large. And crowded.”
“Not much different from London. We don’t have to travel far. Drew lives close. Here. This is Drew. Lord Andrew.” He opened his notebook to his most recent sketch and handed it to her. “The shaking from the travel has all but ruined it.”
She held the small book between gloved fingers and with a tilted head. Her face began to glow with merriment. “I see the resemblance to you. In the nose. And eyes. Does he truly wear his shirt points so high?”
“He can be a bit of a dandy. Very meticulous in his dress. The shirt points might be an exaggeration, though. Just a little.”
She leaned toward him to hand the notebook back and their knees almost kissed in the small space between their bodies. She did not seem to notice, her gaze seeking his. “Is your brother like you?”
“No.”
“Could you offer more details?”
“Why? I gave you a sketch.”
She pursed her lips together. “And that is all you think I need?”
“A sketch can tell you many things the true person can hide. The sketch reveals what they wish to keep hidden.”
“And what secrets is Lord Andrew hiding?”
“You can find out for yourself in a few minutes.”
“Don’t you believe in helping a lady be prepared?” she asked.
Yes, he did, actually, and he’d avoided preparation for two whole close-quarter days. Now though, only a quarter of an hour remained for such activities. Showing her the sketch—another distraction, a means of prolonging the inevitable. Best to have it done with.
“You wish for preparation?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Then you must call me Theo.”
A light flared, briefly, in her eyes then she licked her lips. “I see how that might be necessary.”
