Page 37 of For a Scot's Heart Only

When Lord Ranleigh poured more coffee forhimself, she spied the small finger on his left hand. The tip was missing and the scar capping it, thick and white. An old scar.

His obsidian gaze wandered over her. “Since you’ve covered yourself like a Puritan, I assume you’re not seeking employment.”

“As a harlot? Certainly not.”

“Come now, Miss Fletcher, surely you see the allure in”—he twirled a finger at her—“removing all those layers. A man can only wonder if you burn hotly underneath.”

“I imagine you see the allure in every petticoat.”

“But I’m asking about you.”

Why did those words tease her skin?

“My petticoats are none of your business.”

His smoky laugh floated across the desk. He wasn’t chastened. Any other time or place and the man speaking so impertinently would’ve received a tongue-lashing, if not a pint tossed in his face should they be in a public house. But this was Lord Ranleigh’s house of ill repute, and she, the one hunting Jacobite treasure.

“So, Miss Fletcher, are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

“Yes, of course.” She dug into her pocket. “I wish to do business with you.”

She stuck out her card. Lord Ranleigh took it and read the large print aloud.

“Fletcher’s House of Corsets and Stays.” His eyes rounded with mild surprise. “It says that you’re the proprietress.”

“Indeed, I am.”

He checked the card again. No doubt Lord Ranleigh was approached often by men of businesswanting a sliver of the wealth displayed gluttonously on his desk.

She cleared her throat. “I’ve sought this meeting, my lord, because you have a problem.”

“A problem?”

“Yes. Shabby silk stays.”

He barked a laugh. “What a delight you are, Miss Fletcher. You’ve almost made this ungodly hour bearable.”

Not to be put off, she soldiered on.

“My first night here I noticed stretched seams, frayed ribbons, and the silk having lost its luster.”

“We can’t have that,” he said in mock horror.

“It’s not a trifling matter.”

“No? What you see as well-worn stays, I see as good business.”

“Which could be improved.”

He cocked his head and uncombed hair fell about his face. “You know, I can’t decide what I find most intriguing about you—the earnest woman of business or the attractive spinster who tries to hide herself.” His eyes narrowed a fraction. “It’d be fun to find the answer.”

The provocative man.“This is a serious matter, my lord.” She scooted forward, her fingertips touching his desk. “Why would a man who hosts extravagant entertainments ignore what I’d hazard to guess is his most profitable room?”

“You mean the gaming room.”

“Yes.”

He rubbed the card, thoughtful but not convinced.