Dukes Prefer Blondes by Loretta Chase

help.”
    This was so patently delusory that for a moment—­possibly the first time in his life—­he was speechless.
    That didn’t last long.
    He said, “I realize your ladyship is very bored, being loved to death, but you ought not to let ennui dull your reason. My world is not like the fantasy one you live in. Mine demands I work within the bounds of the law, with the cooperation of the police. We didn’t learn Toby’s whereabouts until the small hours of morning. I’ve suggested a plan, and the police are prepared to carry it out. Nobody needs you.”
    Radford’s other self raised an objection. Radford overruled him.
    The air in the carriage seemed to throb.
    But she said mildly enough, “And you know what Toby looks like, do you?”
    â€œI have a detailed description,” he said.
    â€œI’ve seen him,” she said. “And spoken to him, more than once. I’ve given him money. Which of us do you think he’s more likely to trust?”
    â€œTrust doesn’t come into it. We—­”
    â€œYes, sir, and it was Inner Temple Lane you wanted?” the driver shouted. “Which this is the gate, sir, and missus.”
    H is hand on the back of her waist, Radford hurried Lady Clara through the gate, along Inner Temple Lane, where the walls of the looming buildings shielded them from the worst of the rain and wind, and into the Woodley Building. Even so, she was wet through. He hurried her up the stairs into the outer office, where they found the clerk Tilsley trying to balance a ruler on the tip of his snub nose.
    Tilsley dropped the ruler and gaped. This did not make the green and yellow bruises on his face any prettier.
    â€œBring coals,” Radford said. “We need a fire, before pneumonia sets in. Look sharp, man! You know dead ladies attract unwanted attention.”
    The boy slid down from his stool. “Yes, sir, Mr. Radford, which I noticed the wet, sir, and took the liberty. Accordingly making a fire in Mr. Westcott’s office, expecting you and him back soon enough.”
    Lady Clara approached Tilsley and studied his face. “Oh, dear, did Fenwick do that?”
    â€œThanking you for your kind concern, madam, and assuring you I got my own back, and the other party got in extra only due to cheating.”
    â€œMrs. Faxon, may I present our clerk, Tilsley,” Radford said. “He was otherwise engaged when last you called on us. He’s far more efficient than appearances would indicate.”
    Tilsley went red at the unexpected compliment, making a rainbow of his bruised face. Radford virtually never remembered to bestow praise.
    â€œSince you’ve made a fire, you may now make tea,” Radford said.
    â€œYes, sir.”
    Radford opened the door to Westcott’s office and pushed her in.
    T he day was stormy and the room, with its dark wainscoting and heavy furniture, was gloomy at the best of times.
    She was the only bright thing in it, he thought.
    Candlelight and firelight glinted on the moisture sliding from her bonnet to her cheek. And down her neck.
    Wet!
    He pushed her toward the fire.
    â€œYes, Mr. Radford, I can find the fire for myself,” she said. She started pulling at the ribbons of her hat.
    â€œNot like that!” he said. He went to her and pushed her hands away. “You’ll tighten the knot. Does this surprise me? No. Naturally you have no idea how to untie your own hat ribbons.”
    â€œYou’re wrong,” she said. “But they’re not so manageable when wet and I can’t see what I’m doing.”
    â€œPut up your chin so that I can see what I’m doing. This brim is monstrous. It looks like a giant duckbill and does nothing to shield the sides of your face.”
    She tipped her head back and looked up at him.
    Her eyes were the clear light blue of aquamarines. The damp on her perfect skin was like dew on rose petals.
    The hat was