“An opportunity, eh?” her father asked snidely, as Hattie took a seat on the settee his lordship had indicated.
Lord Iddesleigh ignored him and continued to smile at Hattie. “I believe I mentioned to you that I’ve an acquaintance in London who has need for assistance with correspondence. It must be someone with impeccable penmanship and spelling. The work would be three to four afternoons a week and would involve taking down notes and turning them into letters, responding to invitations, and so forth.”
Hattie’s father snorted. “Not a very important gentleman if he doesn’t have a secretary, is he?”
Lord Iddesleigh’s warm smile cooled. “The gentleman is a visitor to London from another country. As such, he doesn’t have a secretary at his disposal.”
“A visitor—” Hattie started, but her father interrupted her. “It’s paid work, is it? How much?”
“Oh no,” Hattie murmured, and died another thousand deaths. “Papa, please.”
Lord Iddesleigh looked almost stricken by the question. “The work is indeed remunerated, but I should like to ascertain if Miss Woodchurch is interested in the work before—”
“She’s interested,” her father said flatly.
“Father!” Hattie said sternly. “Please do allow me to answer his lordship’s questions myself.”
Her father clenched his jaw and reluctantly made a grand gesture with his hand indicating Hattie should continue.
Hattie turned back to the earl. “May I ask...is the gentleman married?”
The earl looked confused by her question. “No, he’s... Why do you ask?”
“I think it would be highly inappropriate for me, an unmarried woman, to be in the employ of a bachelor—”
“Don’t be ridiculous, girl,” her father said sharply. “How much does it pay?” he asked again.
Lord Iddesleigh suddenly walked to the door of the study and opened it. “As I am offering the position to only Miss Woodchurch, and not you, sir, perhaps you will be so kind as to allow us a bit of privacy so that we may speak freely.”
Her father looked like he meant to argue. Hattie added quickly, “I’ll only be a moment. Thank you.”
Her father fixed a glare on the earl with a sigh of irritation. “Very well,” he said crisply. “Make it quick.” And with that, he reluctantly left the room, still taking in the furnishings as he went.
The moment he was gone, Lord Iddesleigh turned to Hattie.
“I am so sorry—”
“I think we haven’t much time,” he said quickly. He sat next to her on the settee. “Allow me to go straight to the heart of the matter. This is a great opportunity for you, Miss Woodchurch. The gentleman is the Duke of Santiava, and now, Viscount Abbott. You may have heard that the viscount’s title passed to a foreigner?”
Hattie was stunned into silence. She couldn’t form a coherent thought, which was just as well, as her tongue felt thick in her mouth.
The earl continued to talk, but she didn’t hear some of what he said. He frowned. “Miss Woodchurch? Do you know of whom I am speaking?”
Only the most sought-after bachelor in all of London. Only the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. “Yes, my lord.”
“His spoken English is impeccable,” the earl continued. “You’d not suspect for a moment that anything was amiss. Unfortunately, his ability to write and read English is not as impeccable and he needs some help in that regard.”
Help. He needed help. From her? Hattie couldn’t grasp how this was happening. Lord Iddesleigh wanted her to write things for that beautiful man?
The earl leaned forward and looked her directly in the eye. “I don’t think I’m getting through to you. This position could open doors for you. Doors that might not otherwise open, if you take my meaning.”
She did not take his meaning. She could hardly even think.
He sighed. “Miss Woodchurch. What do you want in life?”
“Pardon?” She didn’t know what she wanted in life since Rupert had rejected her. The visions she’d held of her future had disappeared like smoke. “I... A cottage of my own. Perhaps a dog or two. Maybe even a cow.”
Iddesleigh frowned. “I think you should know that owning a cow is more trouble than you think. Nevertheless, if that’s what you want, then you’re even more perfect for this position than I first thought.”
She wanted to ask what cows had to do with anything, and really, she hadn’t meant she would rush out and buy one straightaway. But as it was, she sat numbly, trying to make sense of it.
And then the earl told her what the viscount would pay for her services, and everything the earl had been trying to say was clear. It was an amount that Hattie could hardly grasp. An amount that could be the start of endless possibilities. Her uncertainty about being alone with a beautiful bachelor still raged, but so did the want for that money. It truly was a way out of her father’s house. “I accept,” she said, her voice clear.
On the way home, Hattie’s father demanded to know what the position would pay. When she told him, her father’s thin eyebrows rose almost as high as his receding hairline. “That much? Well, Harriet, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll take only fifteen percent.”
She looked at him aghast. “What?”
“It’s only fair. You’re an adult now, and you should have been married and out of my house long ago. Fifteen percent is a bargain compared to what you might pay for room and board.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I would have been out of your house long ago were it not for you, Papa,” she said. “You and our house and my brothers!”
“Nevertheless,” he said with a shrug.
Yes, Hattie would do whatever it took to get out of her father’s house. Whatever it took.
CHAPTER FOUR
MATEO THOUGHT THE viscount’s house on Grosvenor Square looked rather plain from the street. Pale brick, a dark green door with brass knockers. A boot scrape to remove the mud off one’s boots, a hitching post for horses. It was a fine, respectable home, he supposed, but unremarkable. But he did like that he could stand at the window of his sitting room and look down to see who stood on his doorstep.
Today, it was the Earl of Iddesleigh, or Beck, as he’d reminded Mateo more than once. He was with a woman who wore a bonnet that obscured her face, but she looked to be average in bearing and height. As unremarkable as this house. Not that her appearance mattered to Mateo—she was a clerk, come to write his English correspondence for him. And there was a lot that needed to be written.