Chapter 1 #2
Her nervousness about the coming interview hadn’t lessened as she’d walked through Mayfair. In fact, it had increased to where her stomach was in knots.
Ellis took a deep breath and approached the door.
She tipped her head back to survey the red brick that covered the facade from the first floor up through the fourth.
The ground floor was white stone, and a wrought-iron fence kept pedestrians from falling into the servants’ access on the lower ground floor.
As she rapped on the door with her gloved hand, she was struck by the absurdity of what she was doing.
Did she really expect to masquerade as a man whilst performing the duties of secretary for a marquess?
One would think she’d lost her mind. Perhaps she had.
The last several weeks had been the most trying of her life.
A butler opened the door. He was younger than she expected, perhaps in his middle thirties, with thick brown hair and deep-set gray-blue eyes. “Good afternoon. Are you Mr. Ellis?”
When Ellis had responded to Lord Keele’s advertisement, she’d used the name Daniel Ellis. “Yes, I am,” she replied in her deeper, hopefully masculine tone.
The butler inclined his head and invited her inside. “His Lordship is expecting you, of course. This way.” He led her to the rear of the first floor, through the staircase hall.
The door to Lord Keele’s study stood open, and the marquess rose from his desk, which was situated so he had a view of the small back garden. He came toward the door and extended his hand. “Welcome, Mr. Ellis. I’m pleased to meet you.”
Ellis hadn’t practiced shaking hands and hoped she would do so believably.
Stepping into the office, she clasped his hand and was surprised at the strength of his grip.
She should not have been, for the marquess was tall and powerfully built, with broad shoulders but a narrow waist. He appeared as though he could lift Ellis and hold her over his head.
That was saying something, because Ellis was tall for a woman.
Keele released her hand and looked past her to the butler. “Thank you, Graham.”
Ellis heard the door close followed by the muffled retreat of the butler’s footsteps.
Her gaze swept the marquess’s study. It wasn’t large, but then his house wasn’t either.
Aside from his oak desk, there was a chair near the hearth, a cabinet of drawers, two bookcases, and a second, much smaller desk situated in the corner, adjacent to the marquess’s.
The room wasn’t crowded exactly, but it lacked the space and opulence of the Duke of Henlow’s study.
“Let us sit.” The marquess gestured to the chair by the grate. Covered in faded dark blue velvet, Ellis envisioned the marquess sitting there often as he reviewed documents or read an investment scheme.
Reminding herself that the marquess didn’t need to wait for her to sit because he didn’t know she was a woman, Ellis took the chair. Meanwhile, he sat behind his desk and pivoted his chair toward her.
The desk was cluttered, with an overflowing wooden box in one corner and several unkempt stacks of a variety of things that clearly needed to be sorted. The marquess appeared to be in dire need of assistance.
She eyed Keele’s demeanor and copied him, situating herself against the back of the chair and resting one elbow on the arm. She did not worry about keeping her ankles together.
“I was glad to receive your letter,” Keele began. “Your qualifications and education are excellent, but your letter of recommendation from the Duke of Henlow is extraordinary.”
The recommendation from Henlow was the one thing Ellis had asked him for.
He’d been eager to provide some kind of assistance and had offered the letter not just to Keele but to anyone else she wanted.
“As he no doubt mentioned, my father worked for His Grace’s steward collecting rents,” Ellis said.
That was the fib the duke had suggested.
Keele nodded. “He also said you worked for him temporarily when his secretary had to tend to a family matter for a fortnight. Most remarkably, he said your skill was exemplary and was tempted to replace his current secretary with you.” The marquess possessed razor-sharp steel-gray eyes and a hawk-like nose that made him appear almost predatory.
Indeed, the way he was regarding Ellis presently sparked the sensation that she was his prey.
She shifted her weight and again resisted the urge to cross her ankles.
Sitting like this, without a skirt to cover her legs, made her feel incredibly vulnerable.
Or perhaps it was more due to the intensity of his stare.
Did he suspect she was not who she claimed to be?
Did he doubt the duke’s recommendation? Whilst Henlow had lied about how he knew her, the letter had been drafted by him without any contribution from her.
“That was kind of him to say,” Ellis murmured. Too late, she realized such mild vocalization was likely too feminine. Men didn’t murmur. They claimed space with their bodies, their actions, and their voices. “I enjoyed working for His Grace,” she added in a stronger tone.
“As it happens, I know the duke’s son very well. The Earl of Shefford is a friend of mine. Did you have occasion to meet him?”
Ellis was prepared for this question since she knew Keele and Sheff were friends. And Sheff was not aware of what she was doing. She preferred to have no contact at all with that family right now, except for the favor she’d requested of the duke. “I did not. I didn’t meet anyone in the household.”
“The duke mentioned you are excellent at shorthand,” Keele noted. “I wonder if you might demonstrate?”
Henlow had asked for specific information about Ellis’s skills so he could include them in his recommendation. Ellis inclined her head in an authoritative manner, as a man would. “Certainly.”
“You may sit at the secretary’s desk there in the corner.” Keele gestured to a small kneehole desk, the side of which nearly butted up to his.
Ellis stood, and as she drew closer to the desk, noted it was rather scuffed. Also, one of the drawers did not sit squarely. The chair was in similar condition and did not possess quite the same finish. They were not a matched set.
There was foolscap as well as a goose quill and an inkwell along with other writing implements. Thankfully, there was also a pencil, which was much more suited to shorthand. Ellis plucked up the pencil and poised her hand above the paper. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Keele stood and moved to his desk. He did not sit as he dictated a letter to his banker.
As he neared the end of the missive, Keele approached the secretary’s desk.
He stood over Ellis and looked down at her shorthand.
She was keenly aware of his proximity and his interest. She didn’t care for either.
It made her feel scrutinized, which of course was the point of this interview.
Still, she didn’t like the sensation of being so intensely watched and judged.
When he was done, she tipped her head up and back to look at him. “Do you read shorthand?”
“A little, but not well enough to make sense of it. Yours seems very good, but I suppose the test is in the transcription. Please write the letter out now. I’ll just work at my desk.
” He gave her a brief smile that made him look less like a hunter, then returned to sit behind his desk.
His focus immediately turned to the papers before him.
Ellis watched him for a moment, thinking how scandalous it was for her to be in this office—with the door closed—alone with the Marquess of Keele.
Instead of feeling anxious, she suppressed a laugh.
She didn’t give a fig about preserving her reputation as a woman, as she had no need of it.
She only needed to establish her skill and worth as a male secretary.
Setting her mind to the task, Ellis wrote out the letter using the shorthand she’d taken. Satisfied she’d done a good job, she dusted the ink with the wooden sand shaker.
“Finished?” Keele asked, indicating that whilst he’d seemed engrossed in his task, he’d been listening, at least somewhat, to Ellis work.
“Yes.” She was going to stand, but he extended his hand, and if she did the same, she realized, she only had to rise a short distance from the seat of her chair to present him with the letter.
Keele’s gaze moved over the paper quickly. He appeared to be a fast reader. “Well done.” He lifted his focus to her. “I hope you won’t take offense, but your handwriting is quite nice. It’s almost, dare I say, feminine.”
Ellis’s pulse started to pound. She’d worried about her handwriting and had taken pains to write less…pretty. It was too difficult, however, to completely change the way she wrote. So, she’d come up with an explanation. “I have four older sisters. I’m afraid their influence was rather heavy.”
“Ah, I can only imagine what four older sisters might make their younger brother do.” Keele’s eyes glinted with amusement.
“I do not have any siblings, so I was mercifully spared such torture. Though, one could argue I was also bereft of familial support.” He said this in a purely matter-of-fact tone so that Ellis couldn’t tell if he agreed with that sentiment or not.
Keele handed the letter back to her. “This is excellent. Prepare it for the Two Penny, and I’ll have a footman take it.”
“When I depart, I’d be happy to drop it at a receiving house, if you’d care to entrust me with the task,” Ellis offered.
“I would, thank you.” He gave her a slight nod as she set the paper on her desk. “Pre-paid. You may take the funds from the box in the top right drawer of the desk there. There is a notebook in which you’ll record the withdrawal.”
Ellis eyed the mess on his desk and the contents of the box that were spilling over the sides. “Is there anything I can do to help with organizing things for you?”