Quinn accepted Rodmell’s help to don a black waistcoat. He was beginning to loathe mourning attire already, as well as the hushed atmosphere that had taken over Newberry House since his father’s death. Usually, there was chatter to be heard in the halls as servants went about their tasks. Lately, he’d heard very little banter. “Is all well this morning?”

“More or less, my lord.” Rodmell fetched his pocket watch and held it out. “The housekeeper is in a mood, though.”

“What about?”

“It’s Miss Dalton, I am afraid.”

“What has the woman done to upset the applecart?”

“She seems to be dismissing the maids before they can do their work, my lord.”

He sighed. “I never thought a day would come when a maid would complain about having no work to do, but here we are.”

“Neither would I,” Rodmell agreed. “They only want to make the bed, but Miss Dalton has already done the work by the time they arrive, more often than not. There’s a rumor going around that she doesn’t sleep.”

Quinn colored a little. Theodora had slept alone last night—and would for some time to come, he’d decided yesterday after their illuminating little talk.

Hearing Theodora explain how she viewed their affair had surprised him initially. But that surprise had soon turned to annoyance. Did she not understand how rare their connection was? They had such delightful symmetry of body at night that he’d begun to feel there was more between them. One that boded well for a happy future. But if she would cast aside their growing closeness, too, by claiming it could not be lasting and hiding behind a professional relationship.

She was deluding herself.

Quinn intended to show her the error of her thinking. After their discussion, he’d decided the best path to take was to restrain his private affections and return to their original arrangement of employer and employee for a while. She could continue to work for him, he would provide accommodation for her and her mother as promised without question. When Mrs. Dalton decided she was ready to live on her own terms again, he would wish them well.

Theodora was very nearly the perfect woman in his opinion.

But not if she couldn’t see where their arrangement was leading them together. “I’m sure she sleeps. Anything else worries the staff about her?”

“She keeps such odd hours.”

“I know. Please make everyone aware—quietly, mind you—that it’s Miss Dalton’s way to cope with losing her father. She will mourn him a full year, I suspect, or perhaps more.” He glanced at the mantel clock. He was dragging his feet today, and that was unlike him. He wanted to spend less time alone with Theodora, to make her miss him. The trouble was, he yearned to see her already, and it was not even eleven o’clock in the morning. “I assume Miss Dalton’s hard at work already.”

“No, my lord. Miss Dalton has gone out. I spoke to her earlier as she waited for the carriage. It was before ten o’clock, and she marched out with her satchel under her arm. She hasn’t returned yet.”

“What the devil is she doing going out so early?” He knew of no business that would take her out today. It must be a personal errand, but he couldn’t remember her mentioning one yesterday. “Did her mother go with her?”

“No, my lord,” Rodmell advised, his expression disapproving.

“No chaperone?”

“No, my lord.”

Quinn was not happy to know Theodora had gone out without a chaperone when he’d expressly asked her to have one with her at all times since she’d moved to Newberry House to prevent gossip.

Theodora had always been rather more independent than his previous secretaries, and he hoped she’d left him a note or some such small crumb on his desk to let him know she had at least thought of him once before running off. “Did you by chance hear where she asked to be taken first?”

“There was one address I heard,” Rodmell said. “Wellington Street.”

Quinn blinked in surprise that Theodora would have any business in that street. His former mistress lived there.

Quinn groaned suddenly, remembering yesterday’s conversation about mistresses. He had hoped Theodora would forget all about Adele Blakely. He certainly had.

Theodora had no business traipsing off to call on his former mistress, but he knew that was exactly the errand she’d gone on that morning on his behalf. Was Theodora the worst secretary he’d ever had? Oh, she was dedicated and organized and a hundred other descriptions he could easily name if he had all day. But he should never have let her believe that a professional relationship was all he wanted. She did not seem to realize former mistresses and current lovers should never know each other.

Once his coat was in place, he held out his arm for the mourning ribbon to be tied around his upper arm. He’d utterly underestimated Theodora’s desire to manage every aspect of his life. He’d seen the subtle signs of possessiveness she’d tried to hide and winced. Theodora had no reason to be concerned that Adele Blakely held any power over him after her betrayal.

He could care less about Adele Blakely’s future. He didn’t want to see his former mistress again. And now Theodora may have forced his hand by going to call upon her.

“Have my carriage brought round.”

Rodmell met his gaze. “Miss Dalton has your town carriage, my lord.”

He rolled his eyes. “A horse then, Rodmell, or my grandfather’s second-best town carriage will do at a pinch.”

“As you wish.” Rodmell hurried off, leaving Quinn to finish dressing, and then Quinn strode to the front of the house after Theodora.