Theodora hadn’t really needed Lord Maitland’s help, but she was grateful for it just the same. He’d saved her several trips up and down the stairs.

The dining room was a pleasant chamber, and she chose to sit in the middle of the table, spreading her papers around her in a circle. Maitland prowled the room, idly watching her arrange his papers without comment.

She wished Maitland would sit. He was elegantly dressed and disturbingly tall—and was making her concentration scatter away from his business affairs.

“Won’t you sit down, my lord? I have a few questions that could take some time.”

“Oh.” He hooked a chair beside her with his foot and sat down untidily upon it. “I’m used to reading on my feet—an old habit from my days at sea. Old Layton was forever complaining about it too. I used to sway from side to side once.”

Lord Maitland still swayed, though she would not dare bring it up on her first day. When her father had perished in the fire, and Maitland had held her, she’d been gently rocked from side to side as if she were a child. It had been oddly comforting to be held like that once more.

As he began to leaf through the thick pile, Maitland started to fidget. His legs seemed particularly mobile, jiggling up and down in the most distracting way. She watched him in silence for a few moments. However, Maitland didn’t seem aware of what he was doing.

When she could take no more, Theodora placed her hand on his knee briefly to still him. Then she readied her pen to write. “What are your thoughts on the day’s invitations?”

He exhaled sharply and sat at the table properly to study the invitations. “I’ll attend Garrison’s on the fifteenth, the Leavenworth on the eighteenth, but not the Fairborn route on the nineteenth. Lady Fairborn has grown particularly demanding, and I’d prefer to avoid her.”

Theodora wrote notes quickly, but then glanced at him as his words sank in. “Do you not like forward women?”

His brows rose. “I do not like married women who flirt with me before their very large and possessive husbands for the fun of it.”

“Ah, avoidance is a very diplomatic solution when it comes to unwanted advances.” Theodora winced. That probably explained why she had not seen her employer for the last few hours. She’d made him uncomfortable, but not enough to see him turn her and her mother out. Perhaps he hoped she’d take herself away. Theodora straightened her spine, determined not to remind him of her faux pas by acting forward again.

“It can be.” He set down the papers, his knee bouncing again. “I will need a brace of goose sent to Mr. Arnold of the Theatre Royal this afternoon.”

“That is easy to arrange.” She reached for a slip of Maitland’s stationery. “And the note is to say?”

“My best for a memorable opening night.”

“I had not thought you the type to enjoy the theater.” Theodora bit her lip. A good employee would probably not remark on his habits or likes. A male employee certainly would not. She jotted down the note quickly, warmth rising up her cheeks once more. But, as she glanced at Lord Maitland’s bouncing knee again, noted the theater would require Maitland to sit still for extended periods of time. He was sure to have a box, or access to one. That habit of bouncing his leg must be very distracting for his guests, as it was again for her now.

She stretched her hand toward his knee, but changed her mind at the last second before she touched him. Thankfully, he stopped moving on his own. “Have you been a patron of the theater for long?”

“Of a fashion.” He stretched his legs out suddenly, crossing them at the ankles beneath the table. In that pose, he became very still at last. She bit her lip, unusually distracted without cause. Inappropriate remembrances of being in his arms brought heat to her cheeks and a pleasant hum to her body at the possibilities to be found in his bedchamber.

He had someone else in his life, she reminded herself; a mistress. A possessive type of woman. In her experience, jealousy only had reason to stir when a highly emotional being felt threatened by a romantic rival outside her sphere of influence.

She wrenched her attention back to his face. “Is your mistress an actress?” she blurted out.

Lord Maitland regarded her steadily, neither confirming nor denying. “Send the goose and note after four o’clock, Dalton.”

His use of her last name alone was confirmation enough she had made a correct assumption—and had overstepped, too. Formality placed barriers between people as surely as a wall had been built. As much as his secrecy disappointed her, she couldn’t force him to speak to her about personal matters or relationships. She wasn’t any woman’s rival. She’d already lost that particular battle. “Yes, my lord.”

She quickly wrote and then passed the paper to her employer to sign. He took the pen from her, scrawled a wild signature, and then slid it back across the table.

“I had accepted an invitation for tomorrow night,” he told her with a wry smile. “I will need to send my apologies.”

She checked his sparkly filled appointment book. “You were to dine with Lord Deacon tomorrow in Town.”

He nodded. “Deacon is a good friend. Please say the ‘usual delay’ prevents my attendance.”

She frowned. “What is the usual delay?”

“My father. Lord Deacon will understand the reference without needing additional explanation.” He took a slow breath, grimacing as he rubbed his thigh. “I will be dining at Newberry House instead with my parents. Eight o’clock until whenever the hell I can escape,” he growled.

Startled by his angry tone, Theodora made a mental note never to mention Lord Maitland’s parents if she could possibly avoid it. “And the other invitations?”

“Give them my apologies and best wishes for a pleasant evening as you decline them.”

“Very good. I’ll prepare replies directly.” She quickly scratched out the necessary letters for his signature and passed them over, surprised to find he would wait for her to write every single one. “Is something wrong, my lord?”

He began signing. “Layton would have waited till I was gone before he even started.”

She smiled quickly, bearing through yet another reference to her much-mentioned predecessor with as much forbearance as she possessed. “I don’t like to waste time, and the hostesses will appreciate a speedy response so they can make their arrangements final.”

“I see your point.” He finished signing with a flourish and slid them all back. “What is your experience at arranging dinners?”

“I have always enjoyed it. We hosted some fabulously invigorating debates at my father’s table when we lived in India. His circle of acquaintances in London was smaller, but always well attended and enjoyed.”

“Good. Make arrangements for a dinner for twelve for Tuesday evening in two weeks’ time. The housekeeper will help you. I will write you a list of my closest acquaintances to invite and leave it on your desk upstairs.”

“How many courses?”

“Eight.”

“Is the dinner for any particular purpose?”

Lord Maitland’s brow furrowed but he did not answer. “Just get it done.”

Although curious about his silence, she brought his appointment book closer and flipped it open. Lord Maitland tapped a finger to the specific date, where a single star had already been drawn. He said no more about it, but his tension was palpable. If the date was important to him, why would he not say what the entertainment was in honor of?

She made a note about the dinner, relaxing at the realization she would keep her employment until at least that date. “I can have the housekeeper draw up three menus for you to choose from.”

“Thank you.” He stared at her. “Desserts must be served for the first course.”

“But the dessert course should come later.”

“Not for this dinner.”

Now she really was intrigued, but his expression suggested he wouldn’t explain any of it. “Was there anything else, my lord?”

“No. But you puzzle me, Miss Dalton.” He sighed heavily and rubbed a hand across his jaw. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone so entirely calm after a tragedy as you appear to be. When we suddenly lost a member of my family, my mother and sisters, even my younger brothers, were distraught for weeks and months. Work really does the trick for you?”

Theodora set her quill aside carefully. “Perhaps I am abnormal not to vent my emotions and wallow in grief, as other people will. I’ve never enjoyed crying in public. Besides, I have learned the grief never goes away entirely, no matter how much I have cried and railed at the injustice of my loss. I worked very long hours after my fiancé, Daniel, died. If I am able to exhaust myself during the day, I sleep better at night and regrets are held at bay for a little while.”

Lord Maitland stared at his boots. “What did you regret about losing Daniel?”

That perhaps she hadn’t loved Daniel enough by the end of his life. In the beginning, she’d thought herself the luckiest of women, in love with a gentleman of great passion, but had been deceived by her own awakening desires. “Far too much.”

Maitland waited for her to say more, but Theodora was too wise to divulge much else. A male secretary would not be so forthcoming about his private affairs. She must learn to keep to her place, no matter how easily she was drawn toward the man who’d taken her in. “You have a dinner tonight to prepare for,” she reminded him.

“I do indeed, but there is plenty of time to change and return to Town by the expected hour.” He remained seated, lost in thought. “If I go up early, my valet will have an excuse to fuss over my attire for longer than necessary. I am quite sure you’ve noted Rodmell’s nature already.”

“I like him. He’s very loyal to you.” She smiled quickly then glanced at his open appointment book, noting his hosts for the night lived not far away, and recognizing the surname from her previous shopping expeditions on Bond Street. “I would not have thought a viscount would have much to say to the proprietor of a prosperous London haberdashery, or his wife.”

Maitland laughed suddenly and took up the day’s newspaper to read. “Then I’m happy to have surprised you. Cabot is a new acquaintance and exceptionally good company. I see the newlyweds often, and I am always available should either one come to call.”

“I see,” she said, making a mental note that her employer’s eccentric circle of friends included a couple many of his class would think far beneath them. On the surface, Lord Maitland had seemed like every other young buck about Town—concerned for appearances and ready for dalliances and fast thrills. Finding out he was also introspective and loyal to friends of all social standings was a happy discovery.

She made entries in his diary for the appointments he would keep and sealed his letters in readiness for dispatch. As she completed her work, she made notes of things to ask the housekeeper tomorrow when they planned Lord Maitland’s dinner, and then thumbed through a great stack of old, untidy papers.

He glanced at his paper. “My investments. London properties and such. Rent day is not too far away, if memory serves.”

“Monday,” she concluded after checking through a few of the files. “Do you employ a rent collector or must I do that?”

“I employ a rent collector. A Mr. Albert Bellington. Mr. Layton used to tour the homes with him from time to time, but I cannot ask you to do that.”

“Why ever not?”

He glanced her way, eyes skimming her from top to bottom and back again. “You’re in mourning. Sometimes tenants do not want to pay, and it becomes an ugly business to extract the rents. I refuse to put you in harm’s way.”

“I have dealt with recalcitrant tenants before. My father owned property in India, too. I know the struggles of running a profitable enterprise while still being fair. I’ll take along an extra groom or footman, if it makes you more comfortable with the idea of me going. Someone who knows how to use his fists, if necessary, and can apply his looks to charm the most reluctant tenant’s wife out of their hidden stash of coins.”

He lowered the paper completely, staring at her. “You are such a contradiction.”

He was not the first to notice she possessed her own peculiarities. Usually, it was brought up at the end of a negotiation that she’d won. Most men did not like to be bested by a mere slip of a woman. “Compared to what, my lord?”

“To my imagination. When I first saw you across the street, you were cutting flowers in the garden. I thought then that conversing with you might be like speaking to any other society lady— a conversation full of empty-headed nonsense about the weather, or the cultivation of plants and such. Something I have little interest in or desire to learn more of, I confess.” He grinned widely and leaned toward her a little. “You are never dull, are you?”

“I try not to be,” she said modestly, but she was delighted by his approval and interest in her character, even if it was for naught but ensuring a pleasant working environment. “So far, I find you rather unique among men, too.”

A warmer smile curved his lips, quickly hidden as he returned to his paper. His paper crackled as he suddenly dropped it again. “Theodora, when you had a problem in your life, who did you confide in? Your mother or your father?”

What an odd question, and even more so that it was delivered with him speaking her given name. With anyone else, she would have protested the informality, but she decided to let the use of her given name pass unchallenged, to see where the conversation would lead. “That would depend on the problem. If I had misplaced an item or could not decide what to wear, I would speak to my mother about it. For anything else more serious, I would have sought my father’s advice.”

He leaned toward her again, eyes alight with eagerness. “Would you have confided in him if it were about a suitor?”

Overwhelmed by his proximity, Theodora fought a blush. “No.”

His eyes narrowed. “Who would you have spoken to about a gentleman you favored?”

She regarded him warily. Was he trying to find out if she was gossiping about him with the servants? “What is this about?”

“Please, bear with me and answer my question. Who did you trust with the knowledge that you were interested in Daniel before the engagement was announced?”

“Well, Daniel knew, of course. We were drawn to each other from the very moment we met.”

“Anyone else?”

Theodora gave his question serious thought, curiosity about his need to know rising. “Well, my maid likely knew I was smitten with someone, but I don’t believe I ever mentioned Daniel to her by name in the beginning, until our understanding was common knowledge. I had no particularly close friends in India to share such a personal confidence with. I did once ask a gentleman acquaintance about Daniel’s reputation, though.”

“A friend?” He closed his eyes a moment.

“Yes, I suppose you could call him a friend, but only because I knew he would hold his tongue about my interest.”

“You truly trusted a man with so personal a topic?”

“Yes, my lord.” She sat back in her chair, studying Lord Maitland openly. “Why would that be considered odd? I have just confided in you, haven’t I? Besides, gentlemen often know things hidden from women. I wanted to know if he had any dark secrets that might harm my family or me, if our acquaintance became permanent. Do you think I should not have?”

“I… No. I’m sure you knew what you were doing, but I never anticipated this direction.” He raked a hand through his hair and bit his lower lip. He glanced her way, and then stood. “Thank you. Go about whatever you were doing before, my dear. I have to think about this further.”

Theodora could not quiet the pleasure that Lord Maitland had used her first name and called her ‘my dear’ in the space of five minutes. She looked down to hide her smile. Perhaps he was not immune to her charms after all.