“Did you not already have a bedchamber prepared in anticipation of the arrival of your new secretary?”

  “Well…yes,” he acknowledged awkwardly. “But I do not consider those rooms to be suitable for the daughter of the Earl of Shefford.”

  Two bright spots of angry color appeared in her cheeks. “I am here as your secretary, not the daughter of an earl.”

  “One does not preclude the other.”

  “It does as far as I am concerned.”

  “Then we will have to agree to disagree,” he dismissed mildly.

  Georgiana knew, as she thawed out in the warmth of the hipbath that had been brought up to this bedchamber—it’s pale lilac and white décor showing it was not the one meant for his male secretary—that the reason the Duke of Moreland was not about to get into an argument on the subject was because he intended sending her back to London at the earliest opportunity.

  Probably first thing in the morning, and without even attempting to give Georgiana the chance to prove herself as his secretary.

  Well, not if she had anything to say about it, Georgiana decided as she continued to languish in the heat of the bathwater.

  Just as Moreland had promised, that bath was carried up by a footman who then placed it in front of the warmth of the fire, newly lit by a maid, before the tub was then filled with the hot water brought up by several more maids.

  She had also been provided with a scented bar of soap to remove the mud and wash her hair, along with several thick and fluffy towels to wrap herself in when she stepped out.

  One of the maids had offered to find a nightgown for her to wear, but Georgiana had refused the offer. The pelisse and thick gown she had worn for traveling meant that the petticoat beneath had remained clean and dry.

  She would rather wear that to sleep in than one of the nightgowns possibly left behind by the missing, presumed dead, Duchess of Moreland.

  The same maid had asked if she could assist Georgiana with her bath, but again, Georgiana had refused.

  Her title might still be Lady Georgiana Stapleton, but without the Duke of St. Albans’s financial help, she was an impoverished version of that young lady. As such, she did not wish to have a maid or any other companion foisted upon her for propriety’s sake.

  She could not afford to pay for her own maid; therefore, she would forego the convenience of one.

  Georgiana had seen very little of the house after they entered and the duke began barking out orders for a bedchamber to be prepared for her, a fire lit there, and the hot bath provided. He had also instructed that hot tea, brandy, and biscuits be brought up to her once the bath was removed.

  Then he had marched away, without a by-your-leave, a word of good night, or so much as another glance in Georgiana’s direction.

  The housekeeper had not seemed at all surprised by his taciturn behavior, but Georgiana did not intend to be so lightly dismissed. The Duke of St. Albans believed her to be more than capable of being a secretary, and Georgiana did not intend to allow Moreland to summarily dismiss her without at least giving her the opportunity to prove herself.

  The duke’s handsome looks were of concern to her.

  She was not one to let a pretty face or a courtly manner turn her head, which was why she was willing to help instigate the formation of the Spinsters Alliance. But Moreland was not some insipid young gentleman of the ton. Instead, he was harshly handsome, his face appearing as if carved out of granite, and his manners were blunt to the point of rudeness. Much like those of his two friends, St. Albans and Hellsmere.

  Almost against her will, Georgianna found herself feeling a liking for him.

  He was a tall man, with a haughty bearing, and those carved-in-stone features would always remain handsome. His bluntness of manner would also ensure that a woman would always be challenged by and never bored in his company.

  The Duke of Moreland was, in fact, the sort of gentleman for whom Georgiana knew she would happily relinquish her place in the Spinsters Alliance and take up the possible role of mistress or companion.

  A complication Georgiana had not seen arising when she accepted this secretarial position in Norfolk.

  But it was not one she intended to run away from either.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Julian had slept badly, and he knew exactly the reason.

  The beautiful young lady asleep in the bedchamber just down the hallway from his own.

  He had not lived as a monk before marrying Annabel. But, as his father’s behavior meant he abhorred the idea, let alone the act, of adultery, his self-control had been sorely tested during the year of his marriage. Since Annabel’s disappearance sexual intercourse had been the last thing on Julian’s mind.

  It was now, inappropriately, front and center and consuming all his thoughts and arousing his body!

  Because of Georgiana Stapleton. The never-been-married spinster Lady Georgiana Stapleton, with whom Julian could not have sexual relations even if he wished to do so.

  Which he did.

  She had reawakened his libido to a blazing inferno, and now that she had, Julian could not seem to think of anything but the soft curves of her body and her soft, pillowy lips.

  He had actually been looking forward to seeing her again this morning and enjoying more of her forthright conversation as the two of them breakfasted together in the small family dining room. Even knowing it would be the one and only time that he did so, because he had decided he must send her back to London this morning.

  Instead, his butler had informed him that when the bath and water were removed from her bedchamber the previous evening, Lady Stapleton had requested that a pot of tea, but no breakfast, be brought to her there at seven o’clock this morning.

  Julian’s realization that perhaps Georgiana had made that request because she did not have the suitable clothing to be able to join him for breakfast was dispelled when his butler informed him that the St. Albans carriage had been found during the night. The horses, thankfully, were unharmed, and both they and the carriage had now been brought to the Moreland stables.

  The lady’s trunk had been taken up to her by a footman this morning at the same time as the pot of tea was delivered.

  Meaning Georgiana now had access to her own clean clothing.

  Which meant the assumption that she would join him for breakfast this morning was perfectly legitimate.

  He waited until he had finished his own repast before sending a maid up to the guest bedchamber to check on why Georgiana had not come down for breakfast.

  The maid had returned to tell him that the pot of tea had all been drunk, the bed was remade, but that Lady Stapleton was no longer in the bedchamber. A second query from Julian confirmed that the young lady’s trunk was still there, the lid opened, but none of her clothes or other belongings had been unpacked into the wardrobe or chest of drawers.

  Not that the presence of the trunk in any way confirmed that Georgiana was still at Moreland Park. She would hardly have been able to drag it down the stairs, let alone carry it with her to the stables, before lifting it into the recovered carriage.

  That carriage and horses which a footman had been sent to the stables to ascertain were still in the stables.

  And yet Georgiana was nowhere to be found.

  The thought that she might have preferred to walk away from here, from him, infuriated Julian.

  Yes, he had fully intended to inform her this morning that her remaining here as his secretary was completely unacceptable. But he had not expected Georgiana to take that decision out of his hands and remove herself.

  To Julian’s great surprise, he realized that his main emotion, apart from disgruntlement, was not relief but disappointment.

  A disappointment that had turned to bad temper by the time he made his way to his study to start another morning of dealing with the never-ending estate and ducal business.

  Something he would obviously be doing without the assistance of Georgiana Stapleton.

  Was it any wonder he was feeling grumpy and out of sorts at the thought of her having crept away earlier this morning without informing him of such?

  Not only was Georgiana beautiful enough to have reawakened Julian’s sexual libido, but her conversation was not the mundane talk of fashions and gossip of the other Society ladies Julian had known in the past. Georgiana was blunt and honest to the point of rudeness. Those qualities endeared Georgiana to Julian even more than the generosity of her curvaceous body.

  Well…perhaps those attractive traits were not more endearing than her generous curves, he conceded self-derisively. But they were definitely equal in appeal to that physical beauty. Georgiana Stapleton⁠—

  “Good morning, Your Grace.” The subject of his taciturn thoughts greeted him brightly the moment Julian opened the door of his study. “I trust you are suffering no ill effects from last night?”

  —had not left Moreland Park after all!

  Instead, she appeared to have been working in Julian’s study for some time, considering the neat piles of papers on his previously untidy desk.

  She was also wearing…feminine attire, that Julian believed she possibly thought most resembled the clothing of what a male secretary might wear while carrying out his duties. A white blouse buttoned up to her throat, a black velvet bow tied at the front of the collar, with a brown buttoned waistcoat over the top of it. Instead of men’s pantaloons, she wore a brown tweed-mix ankle-length skirt.

  It gave this beautiful woman the outward appearance of what a spinster might wear if acting as the companion to an old lady.

  Except, Georgiana’s dark hair was secured in a dozen or so curls at her crown, several loose whisps already starting to fall from their confinement about her nape and temples, obviously from her exertions. Nor could she ever succeed in hiding the breathtaking beauty of her porcelain-smooth skin and the appeal of those deep-blue eyes. Her curves were also very much on display in the fitted blouse and skirt.

  “I will take your silence as a no,” she dismissed briskly before Julian could gather his scattered wits together enough to answer her. “As you can see, I have put all your papers into the relevant piles. Your correspondence has also now, to the best of my ability, been placed in order of urgency. Plus”—she picked up a large journal Julian was sure he had never seen before—“I have started to compile a diary of your appointments for today and the rest of the week. I will, of course, amend them if you would prefer them to be in some other order of priority. You, after all, are the employer⁠—”

  “I am?” he questioned incredulously. “If that is so, I am sure you must have realized yesterday evening that I have every intention of ensuring you return to London this morning.”

  “And my own actions this morning will show you I am not in agreement with that decision,” she assured with a bright smile before that smile faded. “I have, however, seen and read the letter the Duke of St. Albans sent informing you when to expect my arrival. I saw that he referred to me only as G. Stapleton, no doubt giving you the impression that you were to expect a man. A deliberate and misleading misconception on his part, I believe, although I cannot comprehend why,” she added.

  Julian snorted. “Because he knew I would never contemplate welcoming a woman here as my secretary!”

  Her eyes narrowed at his vehemence. “I cannot think why, when women are just as capable as any man. Indeed, as I told you, I have already organized your papers into personal and business correspondence, estate bills, and other information referring to the tenants on the estate who are in need of assistance with the repairs to their homes. I was unsure what to do with this particular file.” She put down the journal and picked up a file with the title Annabel written on the front. “I decided the best thing was to leave it on top of your desk but separate from the other papers.”

  Julian glared at her as he snatched the file from her hand. “I do not appreciate having someone sneaking about my study looking into my private papers.”

  “I did not, nor do I ever, sneak anywhere, Your Grace,” she told him evenly. “And for all that he was not completely honest with you, the Duke of St. Albans obviously has faith in my abilities. Indeed, it is clear he believes me more than capable of carrying out the duties of being your secretary,” she added with a challenging tilt of her chin.

  “The Duke of St. Albans seems to have been swayed by a beautiful face and curvaceous body⁠—”

  “I sincerely hope you are not meaning to imply anything of an untoward nature having occurred between myself and the duke.” Angry color bloomed high in her cheeks. “Because if you are, let me assure you⁠—”

  “I was referring, as he adores them both, to the influence his new bride and daughter might have had on him. You have already admitted, under the umbrella of the Spinsters Alliance, that both those ladies are close friends of yours,” Julian refuted.

  “Oh.” She drew in a deep breath before continuing. “Lily and Chloe are also innocent of exerting any influence over the duke. Indeed, they are both under the misapprehension, as is my family, that it is my intention to stay in the country for the foreseeable future with two of the other ladies in the Spinsters Alliance.”

  Julian’s eyes widened. “Do you think it wise, in the circumstances, to have told me that in so much detail?”

  Her brows rose. “What circumstances?”

  He held up the file in his hand. “Gossip has it that I killed my wife before disposing of her body.”

  Well…yes, there was that, Georgiana conceded.

  But, having now met the blunt and arrogant Duke of Moreland, she could not see this haughty gentleman ever feeling the need to hide any of his actions, murder included.

  Besides, she had taken a brief glance at the contents of the file with Annabel on the front. She now knew that the papers and letters collected inside were all related to Moreland’s continued efforts to find his missing wife. Indeed, the majority of those missives came from several different agents he still had searching for the duchess in England and abroad.

  Moreland would hardly still be wasting his time and money two years after the disappearance if he already knew his wife was dead and had been buried on the nearby fenland.

  An argument against that assumption, Georgiana knew, was that Julian Sotherby was merely keeping up the appearance of continuing to search for his missing wife as a way of diverting blame from himself for that disappearance.

  Having now met and spoken to that gentleman, it was an argument that Georgiana could not agree with. In her opinion, those reports inside the file, dating back almost two years and starting just weeks after the duchess’s disappearance, showed Julian to be genuinely searching for the missing woman.

  “I am the last one to ever listen to, let alone believe, idle gossip,” Georgiana dismissed briskly.

  “You class the rumors that I killed my wife as being idle gossip?”

  She calmly met his gaze. “Is that not the case?”

  His nostrils flared. “It is true I did not kill my wife.”

  “I am already aware of that.”

  He eyed her incredulously. “How can you claim that with such certainty?”

  Georgiana shrugged, having promised St. Albans she would not reveal their own conversation on the subject. “Firstly, because a gentleman such as the Duke of St. Albans would not consider you as still being one of his closest friends if he believed you to have killed your wife.”

  “I am not revealing any secrets when I say my friends knew of my unhappiness in the marriage,” he allowed.

  Georgiana already knew that too, but again, as promised, she would not admit how she knew that to this man.

  Even if Julian’s own admission of that being the case had caused a feeling of warm elation inside her.

  Because, she dared admit to herself, she found Julian Sotherby, the Duke of Moreland, even more attractive this morning than he had appeared the night before, now that most of the mud had been wiped from his handsome visage.

  His hair was now clean and swept back from his face, revealing several strands of gray amongst the darkness at his temples. The harsh angles of his features appeared even more handsome in full daylight, dominated by eyes the color of emeralds. His muscular body was clothed in a perfectly tailored dark green superfine, a dark gray brocade waistcoat, black pantaloons, and brown-and-black Hessians.

  At six and thirty, he was fully seventeen years older than Georgiana, but she had never been a giggling and flirtatious young miss. Indeed, she was often tasked with suppressing her younger sisters’ more impetuous behavior. As such, Georgiana already knew, from her previous conversations with Julian, that the two of them were well matched in both maturity and intellect.

  She nodded. “All the more reason for them to suspect you of having killed your duchess, and I know St. Albans certainly does not. Lily’s and Chloe’s potential wrath aside when they learn the truth of where I am and with whom, the duke would not have allowed me to come here if he had the slightest doubt as to your complete innocence.” She felt confident in stating this as fact. “Secondly, having now met you, I do not believe you capable of killing any woman.”

  He gave an incredulous snort. “I assure you, I can think of several whom I might consider doing away with.”

  “Me amongst them?” she derided.

  He straightened. “Absolutely not. Indeed, you are the first woman in a very long time whose company and conversation I do not find in the least bit tedious.”

  “I am sure there is a compliment in there somewhere!” Georgiana teased.

  He gave an inclination of his head. “Of the highest level.”

  A blush warmed her cheeks. “Does that mean you are willing to forget I am a woman, and I can continue to stay here and act as your secretary? I believe you can see I have done a competent job so far.” She indicated the neat piles of papers on his desktop.