He took the seat on the sofa that Bridget offered, setting his leather satchel on the occasional table to his left. He lifted the table and placed it in front of him, then carefully opened the satchel.
It was a moment of well-crafted theater, all designed to convey a sense of purpose and comfort. “I have some preliminary notes with me, which I thought we could go over this morning. I’ve also made arrangements for a small, discrete notice to be placed in the newspaper confirming receipt of ‘N’s letter.”
He liked to open his first meeting with a new client in a strong fashion. By appearing to have sat up all night considering their particular problem, he found it helped to win them over, to gain their trust. And considering that many of the assignments he dealt with were of a delicate nature, having a calm patron was always a plus.
Bridget took the seat opposite him. She pointed at the papers. “When did my brother speak to you? I was only informed of my mother’s indiscretion earlier this morning.”
Hello. We have a perceptive one here. I shall have to tread carefully with her.
It would appear that Lady Bridget Dyson had a mind to match her bright eyes. Stephen appreciated intelligent women.“The viscount and I spoke briefly late yesterday morning. I would have come to see you earlier today, but an unexpected, private matter arose overnight, which required me to make some arrangements.”
It was ironic that Sir Robert Moore, who having never spared much time for his son during his life, was now making demands on Stephen in death. He resented such obligations coming from a man who clearly hadn’t given a damn about him.
Bridget rested her hands in her lap and sighed. “I am not sure what my brother has told you, but this is a serious matter. So please tell me if you are unable to give it your full attention. If that is the case, then I shall seek the services of someone else.”
He lifted his gaze from the papers and met hers. From his years of service as an agent of the crown; and now his career in the murky underworld, Stephen had developed the ability to comfortably hold his nerve against others. Bridget quickly looked away. She was worried.
Of course, she is. Her mother is a card cheat, and their family stands on the edge of social ruin. Go easy on her. You are not the only one having a trying day.
“As I explained to your brother, I am more than capable of dealing with blackmailers. In fact, it is a bit of a specialty of mine. Rest assured, I will place all my energies into solving this problem.”
Her fingers threaded tightly together. His words had clearly not yet won her over.
And then she fixed Stephen with a cold, hard stare.
She doesn’t trust me in the least.
“I understand that my mother has utilized your services in the past. And yet here we are, paying you once more to deal with a blackmailer. It speaks to me that this is more than just a touch coincidental.”
Damn. Damn. Damn.
Stephen didn’t like clients talking about him behind his back. When he had dealt with Lady Linton’s earlier problems, he had made her sign a non-disclosure agreement. By confiding in her children, she had breached their contract.
He wasn’t going to touch on the subject of Lady Dyson’s thinly veiled accusation of him seeking to line his pockets from her family’s misery. Or even perhaps being the cause of it. She wasn’t the first, nor likely the last client to come to that erroneous conclusion.
He shuffled the papers and picked up a copy of his standard four-page contract. He handed it to Bridget. Tristan Linton had already signed it, but since Bridget was now going to be his principal client, it was important to get her mark on it as well. “I need you to sign this before we go any further. The work which I undertake in dealing with these situations can at times drift into somewhat gray areas of legality. While I protect my clients, I also expect them to play their part. That includes keeping our discussions a secret.”
Lady Linton had not been a problem for him in the past. He was determined that none of the Linton family were going to become one now.
Bridget set the document on the table and crossed her arms. “What if I refuse to sign the contract? What happens then?”
She thinks that she is testing me. All she is doing is playing into the hands of the blackmailer.
Frustrated, Stephen snatched up the contract, gathered the rest of his papers, and stuffed them into his satchel. He quickly closed it. “Nothing happens. Good day to you, Lady Dyson. I won’t waste any more of your time, and I ask the same of you.”
He got to his feet and gave a curt bow.
He is annoyed. Good.
Tristan would be livid if he knew what she had said to the man he had tasked with helping their family, but trust wasn’t something Bridget held in great supply. Years of being poorly treated and blamed for not having provided her husband with children had left her deeply suspicious of others and their motives.
If Sir Stephen took offense at her words, then in her reckoning, it was a good thing. It meant that he took his job seriously. The last thing Bridget needed was a self-important rogue making a mess of things. She wanted a man who could take charge and get results. Someone who could deal with a dirty blackmailer.
Results guaranteed.
Bridget shifted quickly from her place on the sofa, stepping in front of Stephen as he moved clear of the table. She bounced off him, staggering a step back as he failed to check his stride in time. “Oh,” she exclaimed.
He was a large man. Tall, broad shouldered, and not an ounce of fat on him if his well-toned thighs were any indication. A mountain of infuriated male stared down at her. “Lady Dyson, please let me pass.”
