Page 3 of Defying the Duke
“No. I see very few people other than you and your partners. Mr. Bickley makes his deposits after I leave, most days.”
Abingdon placed his hand on her back to guide her through a crowd. “I’m not certain I like having you alone there the entire day.”
“The servants often use the stairs at my end of the hall, so I’m not completely alone.”
“And yet he found his way into your office.”
“I do have to open the door in order to leave, you know. He happened to be there at that time. It’s not likely it will happen again, with any man.”
He didn’t respond, and Dinah gave thanks that perhaps the discussion was ended. Father had had a difficult time convincing the dukes to allow her to assist him when his health began failing, and she’d feared they’d fire her when he died. They hadn’t, although nothing was specifically said about her staying on, either. Business simply continued as usual, minus her father’s presence. Every day, she hoped the subject wouldn’t come up.
When the warmth of Abingdon’s hand returned to her back, Dinah glanced at the duke. How could a man be so handsome even in the shadows cast by lamplight? He wasn’t scowling now, so the fierceness was gone. His black hair showed the ruffles where he’d run his fingers through it earlier, but that made him appear even more rakish than the gossips claimed. She could imagine her hands had done the damage to his neat coiffure—
No, she could imagine no such thing!
Dinah wasn’t a dreamer, and not romantic, as were most single women her age. She knew the reality of her life. At some point in the future, she might accept the offer of marriage to a widower, or a returning soldier or merchant marine, someone with few other options. Sometime after her sister married, perhaps. Poor Chrissy’s dreams had been pinned on the tailor’s son, who reportedly married an American after traveling there to investigate opening a store in New York. All Dinah wanted was for her sister to find love.
In the meantime, she could fantasize all she wanted about handsome dukes and lords, but not her bosses. Never her bosses.
As they neared the corner to her street, Abingdon said, “Tomorrow, I shall escort you home at the end of the day. Sixish?”
“That’s not necessary, Your Grace.”
“I’m your employer, and I say it is.” He smiled, but it quickly turned into a scowl. “I don’t trust my brother. He’s up to something, and I don’t want you hurt.”
“Very well. I’ll be ready to leave at six.”
CHAPTER 2
The walk to Miss Westfall’s home did nothing to burn off the anger boiling in Jack’s blood. He needed to run, to punch something. Preferably Peter. He couldn’t trust himself to go to Gentlemen Jackson’s boxing club to get the emotion out of his system. He couldn’t be sure he’d not take out the anger on whoever was foolish enough to enter the ring with him, even for one round of boxing.
He walked stridently back to Sutcliffe’s since he no longer needed to hold his pace to match Miss Westfall’s.
The thought of her brought his ire back to scorching levels. The idea that any man would attempt to kiss her—or worse—made him wonder how fathers allowed their daughters to ever be courted. Not that he felt paternally toward her. He had no feelings for the young woman, to be honest. He was concerned for her welfare out of respect for her father, who’d been an employee of Jack’s uncle, the former duke, for many years. He was concerned because no woman deserved to have a man force himself on her.
Blast and damn, Peter! The club had women under its employ, willing young women who’d gladly satisfy a man’s urges. He grimaced as a thought struck him. They were probably better off not allowing his brother the opportunity to force one of those women into a situation they didn’t want. The man was bad news, pure and simple.
By the time Jack returned to Sutcliffe’s and joined his partners in Dainsfield’s office, he could at least string words together into understandable sentences. “My brother is forbidden to return to Sutcliffe’s. I’ll notify the dealers and other employees.”
Nomansland looked up from the file of papers he held. “That’s rather stern. What did he do?”
“He attacked a maid and was attempting the same on Miss Westfall when I entered her office.”
Dainsfield muttered under his breath.
Nomansland wasn’t as reserved. “Bastard.”
“Knowing my mother, that’s highly likely,” Jack said without humor. “He’s a disgrace to the family, to be sure.”
“How is Miss Westfall?” Nomansland asked.
“Outwardly, she seemed nonplussed, but her voice was tight, telling me how much emotion she held in.”
“Poor girl,” Nomansland said.
“I still say a man should hold that position,” Dainsfield said, then raised his hand to stop the expected comments from his partners. “Miss Westfall is perfectly capable of adding and subtracting figures with great accuracy, but part of me thinks a lady shouldn’t know about what goes on in a club like ours.”
“Don’t be a Puritan, man. They all know perfectly well what the men of the ton get up to,” Nomansland said. “They likely wish they had a club of their own.”