Page 12 of How to Tempt an Earl

“Perhaps if you speak with him, he will listen.” Her voice held a note of desperation. “You are familiar with gamblers. You must understand the illness that drives them.”

Ian contemplated her request. He felt an odd twinge of sympathy at her distress, but he shoved it aside. He knew better than to fall for a pair of pretty blue eyes. “Even if I speak with the baron, the likelihood is that I will not be able to help him. Only he can make the decision to walk away from the tables,” he said.

“You must promise to try.”

He didn’t think he could help her father. Ian was in the business of making money, not reforming gamblers. If the harm Baron Newbury suffered from his gaming wasn’t sufficient to stop the man from visiting the gambling halls, then what could Ian do?

Yet, once again, the hopeful expression on Grace’s face made Ian hesitate. He wanted her to accept, needed her to.

He nodded. “I will speak to the baron.”

“How soon would you require my services?”

“Tomorrow night.”

Her eyes widened. “So soon?”

“My mother insists I attend Lady Crowley’s ball.”

Her jaw dropped. “Lady Crowley’s ball? But that’s in less than a fortnight!”

“Then we must work hard. Do you agree to my terms?”

…

Grace stood still, looking into Ian’s dark eyes. Her mind spun as she considered his offer. Her sole purpose in coming here tonight was to confront him, to demand he turn her father away from the Raven Club. She’d known it was a foolish visit, but her temper had gotten the best of her.

She’d been unprepared for his offer. She had little choice but to accept, and, truth be told, it wasn’t such a horrible arrangement. Even if she failed to turn Ian into a proper gentleman in time for Lady Crowley’s ball, he’d promised to forgive her father’s debt.

All six thousand pounds.

But it would be no easy task. He hadn’t even risen since she’d walked into the room. True, he’d offered her a seat, but when she’d refused, he should have remained standing. Even now, he sat behind his desk with his long fingers wrapped around the arms of his chair. In short, his manners were deplorable.

Far from a gentleman’s.

Could she do what he asked? Could she afford not to?

She’d sent her maid to the milliner to deliver updated and balanced ledgers, and she’d returned with a small payment. Grace had been working for the milliner for six months and had saved every shilling. She planned to work more hours, maybe even have Rose ask other businesses if they could use her anonymous services, but nothing was guaranteed. As of now, her efforts were just sufficient to pay the staff’s wages for the month, but not enough to ease all her burdens. Certainly, not enough to pay her father’s debt to Ian Swift.

“It must be a business arrangement, nothing more,” she said.

His dark head nodded. “You have my word.”

She didn’t want to point out that when they’d first met in his office he’d admitted to not being a gentleman but a businessman. Would his word as a businessman be as worthy as that of a gentleman? It was a risk she had to take.

She took a breath, walked to his desk, and extended her hand. “I’ll agree to those terms.”

Ian’s gaze dropped to her hand, then traveled back to her face. A humorous glint lit his dark eyes. He rose and came around the desk to stand before her.

Her heart started thumping. He stood close, and she could smell his shaving soap and something else, something unique to him…something dangerous.

“I may have lived in the shadows for ten years, but even I know ladies don’t shake hands,” he said.

She needed to clear her head. “I see no better way to seal a business arrangement, and we do not begin our lessons until tomorrow.”

“Very well.” His palm engulfed hers. Instead of shaking her hand as she had expected, he raised her fingers to his mouth and brushed his lips against the back of her gloved hand.

Her skin tingled beneath the satin, and a shiver of awareness traveled down her spine. He looked into her eyes, and she trembled.