She shifted from side to side, oblivious to his erotic thoughts. “It would be impossible for me to visit a bachelor’s residence during the day. I’d have to come at night.”
“I own a gaming club, remember? I’m accustomed to late hours. I will leave the club shortly after midnight for my lessons. My man, Brooks, will oversee the club during my absence.”
She remained silent, and Ian knew she was considering his proposition. He was surprised how badly he wanted her to say yes.
She tapped her foot as she thought. “I’d have to wait until the household was asleep, slip out of the house, and hire a hack after dark.”
“No hack.”
She stilled, and her gaze flew to his. “You would expect me to walk alone at night?”
“No. I’ll have an unmarked carriage wait by the mews behind your father’s home each evening. I will return you to your home the same way before sunrise.”
“If I agree to aid you, will this satisfy my father’s debts?”
“Yes.”
“All six thousand pounds?”
Ian nodded.
“Will you refuse him admittance here?” she asked.
His mouth thinned. “That will not solve your problems. You must know he will seek out another gambling establishment.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Then you must promise to help him reform his ways.”
His jaw hardened. “Now you seek the impossible.”
“Perhaps if you speak with him, he will listen.” Her voice held a note of desperation. “You are familiar with gamblers. You must understand the illness that drives them.”
Ian contemplated her request. He felt an odd twinge of sympathy at her distress, but he shoved it aside. He knew better than to fall for a pair of pretty blue eyes. “Even if I speak with the baron, the likelihood is that I will not be able to help him. Only he can make the decision to walk away from the tables,” he said.
“You must promise to try.”
He didn’t think he could help her father. Ian was in the business of making money, not reforming gamblers. If the harm Baron Newbury suffered from his gaming wasn’t sufficient to stop the man from visiting the gambling halls, then what could Ian do?
Yet, once again, the hopeful expression on Grace’s face made Ian hesitate. He wanted her to accept, needed her to.
He nodded. “I will speak to the baron.”
“How soon would you require my services?”
“Tomorrow night.”
Her eyes widened. “So soon?”
“My mother insists I attend Lady Crowley’s ball.”
Her jaw dropped. “Lady Crowley’s ball? But that’s in less than a fortnight!”
“Then we must work hard. Do you agree to my terms?”
…
Grace stood still, looking into Ian’s dark eyes. Her mind spun as she considered his offer. Her sole purpose in coming here tonight was to confront him, to demand he turn her father away from the Raven Club. She’d known it was a foolish visit, but her temper had gotten the best of her.
She’d been unprepared for his offer. She had little choice but to accept, and, truth be told, it wasn’t such a horrible arrangement. Even if she failed to turn Ian into a proper gentleman in time for Lady Crowley’s ball, he’d promised to forgive her father’s debt.
All six thousand pounds.
But it would be no easy task. He hadn’t even risen since she’d walked into the room. True, he’d offered her a seat, but when she’d refused, he should have remained standing. Even now, he sat behind his desk with his long fingers wrapped around the arms of his chair. In short, his manners were deplorable.
Far from a gentleman’s.
Could she do what he asked? Could she afford not to?
She’d sent her maid to the milliner to deliver updated and balanced ledgers, and she’d returned with a small payment. Grace had been working for the milliner for six months and had saved every shilling. She planned to work more hours, maybe even have Rose ask other businesses if they could use her anonymous services, but nothing was guaranteed. As of now, her efforts were just sufficient to pay the staff’s wages for the month, but not enough to ease all her burdens. Certainly, not enough to pay her father’s debt to Ian Swift.
“It must be a business arrangement, nothing more,” she said.
His dark head nodded. “You have my word.”
She didn’t want to point out that when they’d first met in his office he’d admitted to not being a gentleman but a businessman. Would his word as a businessman be as worthy as that of a gentleman? It was a risk she had to take.
She took a breath, walked to his desk, and extended her hand. “I’ll agree to those terms.”
Ian’s gaze dropped to her hand, then traveled back to her face. A humorous glint lit his dark eyes. He rose and came around the desk to stand before her.
Her heart started thumping. He stood close, and she could smell his shaving soap and something else, something unique to him…something dangerous.
“I may have lived in the shadows for ten years, but even I know ladies don’t shake hands,” he said.
She needed to clear her head. “I see no better way to seal a business arrangement, and we do not begin our lessons until tomorrow.”
“Very well.” His palm engulfed hers. Instead of shaking her hand as she had expected, he raised her fingers to his mouth and brushed his lips against the back of her gloved hand.
Her skin tingled beneath the satin, and a shiver of awareness traveled down her spine. He looked into her eyes, and she trembled.
“Good. We have an agreement,” he said.
Chapter Four
The following evening, Grace’s heart pounded as she opened her bedroom door and looked both ways to make sure the hall was vacant. She tiptoed down the stairs just as the long case clock in the grand entry chimed midnight.
She snuck into the kitchen and cracked open the servants’ door leading into the back gardens. A half-moon faintly illuminated the hedges and bushes, and they appeared like eerie specters.
Doubt crept along her spine. It wasn’t the first time she’d secretly left the house. She’d been maintaining the ledgers of the milliner for six months’ time, and when her maid, Rose, couldn’t deliver or collect the ledgers, Grace would have to do it herself.
But tonight was different. Other than her two visits to the Raven Club, she’d never departed this late, and certainly never to go to a bachelor’s home.
Could she do this? Could she tutor such a dangerous and dominant male like Ian Swift?
Did she have a choice?
Six thousand pounds.
She took a breath, filling her lungs with air and courage. Her future was not as she’d predicted. She’d wanted to marry for love, have children, and live in a lovely Mayfair home with plenty of laughter.
Just like her childhood.
Grace pushed the dream aside. Regrets were childish and foolish.
She took another deep breath, stepped into the night, and quietly closed the door behind her. She clutched her cloak tightly and made her way to the mews. It had rained earlier in the evening, and the impressions between the cobblestones were filled with puddles. Lifting her skirts, she moved quickly until the shape of a dark coach and matching pair of bays came into view. She would have been hard pressed to see the conveyance if she didn’t know to look for it.