“If you don’t mind me saying, Miss Dalton, his lordship has maids who dust and clean for him,” Mr. Rodmell, Lord Maitland’s valet, remarked at Theodora’s feet.

Theodora shrieked, dropped the cloth she was holding and struggled to keep her balance on the chair. The large landscape she’d been peeking behind crashed back against the wall. “Rodmell! Don’t do that.”

“My apologies, but you still should not have been moving the paintings. That is a maid’s job.”

“Clearly they have missed this spot for some time. I found cobwebs here, and now that I know for certain that there are no spiders behind it, I can breathe easily again,” she said, shuddering.

Rodmell appeared less than impressed with her suggestion that there could be unwanted beasties in the library and took the cloth from her hand. “Mr. Layton had no complaints about the room.”

“Lord Maitland’s last secretary may have had no complaints about his books, but probably never lifted his eyes to the corners of the room. He’s been gone for months. The study requires a thorough dusting.” She wiped her gloved fingers down the picture frame and showed Rodmell proof of the dust.

“I’ll have a word with Mrs. Burrows for you and have it attended to,” he said quickly, and then sneezed.

“I would appreciate that.” Theodora wasn’t usually so picky about her surroundings, but wearing mourning colors revealed so much about a home. She already had a dusty hemline and a never-ending urge to rub her nose. The more time she spent in this room alone, the more irritated she was by the inattention to cleaning it. Rodmell helped her down to stand beside him. “What I was really doing before being distracted was looking for some clue as to the location of this charming scene.”

“It is of the Duke of Rutherford’s family seat at Newberry Park in Essex.”

Lord Maitland’s family had a similarly named mansion in the heart of Mayfair—some twenty minutes ride distant from Maitland House. Newberry House was said to be very elegant and quite large. Quinn’s parents, the Earl and Countess Templeton, lived there with the Duke of Rutherford’s blessing along with other members of the family when they came to London.

“Ah, I see. A pretty spot indeed.” Theodora had heard much of the country estate too from a maid who’d grown up there, and she’d discovered a great many landscapes for the area spread around Lord Maitland’s home while she’d been waiting to speak to him. She had thought they may have been of the same location, but hadn’t been sure until now. She pointed across the room. “And who is the merry young woman in that small portrait over there by the fire?”

Rodmell sighed softly. “That is, was, Lady Mary Ford. The master’s younger sister.”

Theodora moved closer. Yes, perhaps there was a similarity she could see around the eyes. She’d heard mention of Louisa, Sally, and two brothers already from the chattering new maid Lord Maitland had seen assigned to her. “What happened to her?”

“It is not my place to speak of the dead,” Rodmell said after a long moment of silence.

Theodora whipped around quickly to stare. Rodmell had been more or less an open book until now, speaking expansively of every member of the Ford family with great pride and fondness—except for this one girl. That he would not say very much was telling. It must have been a tragedy that stole her life away.

“When did she pass?”

Rodmell took a step back. “At seventeen. Five years ago, it would be now.”

“So very young,” Theodora whispered. “Was she a favorite?”

“Oh yes. The master and Lady Mary were very close. If there is nothing else, I must return to my duties?” Rodmell asked, appearing ready to flee.

She smiled in understanding. “If you could have someone start on this room today, I would be grateful. I’ll move my work down to the dining room until the chamber is ready for use again.”

Rodmell frowned deeply. “You’ll have to speak to Lord Maitland about that. He prefers to keep his correspondence to the upper levels of the house.”

That struck her as an odd thing to do, but a great many things about Lord Maitland jarred with what she had expected of him. Yet she did need a table to work upon. The only other one large enough to hold all of Lord Maitland’s papers was in the dining room downstairs.

“Well, I could always work on the staircase while I wait,” Theodora mused, but then laughed. “Honestly, Lord Maitland is still out and has left behind no word when he will return from Mayfair, so might we settle on a compromise. He employed me to work, and I cannot in these conditions. I would rather not explain to him that anyone might have been lax in their duties since Layton’s departure. Do you not agree it is unnecessary to bother so great a man with every small detail of how his home is maintained?”

Rodmell eyed her warily, clearly unsure of her reasons for asking. “I do agree,” he said slowly.

“Good.” Theodora dusted off her hands again. “We are in agreement. He need never know about this discussion, or any others we might have in the future on similar topics.”

She began to collect her papers so she might move to another room to work.

However, Rodmell lingered, and when she looked his way again, he was scrutinizing her with a small frown.

Theodora wanted him gone. “Is there something else?”

“I wanted to say how very sorry we all are for your loss,” Rodmell said, his tone full of compassion once more. “Mr. Dalton was a fine man. A fair man. Everyone at Maitland House knew him by reputation to be a sensible and just employer. The staff will not pay any heed to unfair gossip we might hear.”

“Thank you,” her eyes misted with tears, and she brushed them aside quickly and firmed her jaw. The last thing she’d expected to affect her was the sympathy of a servant over the rumors of her father’s demise. But it meant a lot to her to have her father’s character acknowledged by Lord Maitland’s servants. It struck her as both honest and painful. Her father had risen from very humble beginnings and worked hard to achieve much in his short life.

However, Theodora was only just hanging on to her composure right now. Conversations of this nature would only upset her. “If you don’t mind, I prefer not to speak of the matter again.”

“As you wish, Miss Dalton. Lord Maitland is the same way about his sister.” The man stood to attention, his sympathy hidden again behind a professional bearing. “Perhaps you would like to tell me what you do expect. Lord Maitland has never employed a female secretary before.”

Theodora drew in a deep breath, grateful for a practical question she could answer without too much thought. “I rise early, prefer hot chocolate and toast served to me in the morning room before I begin work. I like tea and a few biscuits or a single pastry at eleven. Luncheon is at three o’clock—something simple is preferred. Dinner is either on a tray here at my desk at seven or with my mother, if she is to eat in the dining room. I tend to work very late into the evening and will not ask for anything from the kitchens after eight o’clock. I prefer not to be disturbed when I work late at night.”

“My God, that is a frightening schedule you plan to keep,” Maitland remarked as he strode in and tossed his hat across the room. It landed exactly on top of a large bust carved out of marble, and then slid a little to the side until it stopped at a jaunty angle. Maitland came close, resting one hand on the back of her chair as he studied her. The pose showed off his tremendously elegant clothes to perfection. He frowned. “Do you ever allow yourself time to look out the window?”

“Of course.” She took her seat and drew a blank sheet of paper from a drawer, pushing the feeling of excitement Lord Maitland’s return stirred in her body. There was an open warmth about him, not just his body heat she discovered, that made her exceedingly aware of him. She wanted him to like her, and it had very little to do with her abilities as a secretary. “Four times a day at the very least. It is very good exercise for the eyes, and I recommend it to you. I was just about to remove myself to the dining room and enjoy the view from there, so I would not upset the household routine.”

She glanced up when he remained silent. “My lord?”

“Dalton, what are you doing here?”

“Working, of course.”

Lord Maitland stared at her for a long moment then shook his head. Had he changed his mind about her working for him?

“If there is nothing else?” Rodmell asked diplomatically.

“Nothing for me, thank you, Mr. Rodmell,” she said quickly to the man, anxious to be alone with Maitland and prove herself capable of her new duties.

“You may go, Rodmell,” Maitland agreed, still looming over her.

Once they were alone, she lifted her face to her new employer. “Who is that bust of?”

“My grandfather, the Duke of Rutherford. Don’t worry, Rutherford is fond of hats. He gave the bust to me when I moved here so I would never be without him.” He smiled slightly. “I thought you would be with your mother.”

“Mama has asked me to leave her alone. I’ve checked on her several times, only to be sent away.” She smiled quickly. “She just sits at the window, her hand at her throat, staring at nothing.”

“Has she said very much since we returned from the funeral?”

“Not really.” Theodora worried a little. “Was there something you needed to speak to her about?”

“It can wait.” Maitland sighed as he picked up his mail from the corner of the desk and shuffled through it. “These are all open,” he said sourly as he waved them toward her.

“Yes, I know. Do you always turn the mail upside down?” She sighed, committing his little quirk to memory. “The uppermost correspondence were only invitations. The truly important letters are now on the bottom and are mostly from your family, judging by the return addresses. Family correspondence remains sealed.”

He reversed the pile and then grunted. “Layton never had such a system.”

“Well, I am not Mr. Layton, and if he left you to open everything, that would explain why dust coated some of the letters that were buried on your desk, which you can now fully use.”

While he’d been gone, Theodora had rearranged parts of the room to her liking with the help of a footman. She had placed her desk at a better angle, so she had a view of the door and so she could see who came and went up the stairs. She could also sit comfortably while Maitland dictated or discussed his wishes, and yet still give him the privacy of not looking directly at him.

Once the room was properly dusted, she could feel very comfortable here.

Theodora collected the pile of papers she wished to work her way through and stood. “Excuse me, my lord.”

“Yes, I heard you were moving downstairs so the lax maids can dust, but you didn’t intend to tell me about it,” he said, a slight smile gracing his lips.

“You were listening?”

“Couldn’t help it, and I always find it fascinating what people say in unguarded moments. So great a man you say? Old Layton never flattered me so well.” He laughed softly as she blushed and took the pile of papers and folders she held before gesturing her to precede him from the room. “Ladies first.”

Theodora hurried ahead, feeling her cheeks burning now.