Luck Is No Lady(22)

“There is not enough information provided in the documentation to determine the exact amount of the overpayment,” she explained.

He placed his palms flat on the open ledger and turned it around to face her.

“Do you see documentation of them here?” he asked.

She leaned forward and ran a slim finger down a column of figures. The faint scent of violet drifted from her person, teasing him with the memory of when she had been pressed back against him behind the curtain. He recalled suddenly the narrow width of her waist beneath his arm, her silken hair against his face, and the sound of her breath escaping in an uneasy rhythm.

Straightening, she lifted her gaze to meet his. Something of his preoccupation must have been reflected in his eyes as a subtle blush bloomed in her cheeks before she gave a decisive shake of her head. “No, I do not. The refunds must be recorded elsewhere.”

Ignoring the jump in his pulse, Roderick acknowledged the confirmation of his suspicion regarding Goodwin’s duplicity. If the other applicants had noticed anything odd about the accounts, they had not had the presence of mind to say anything.

Leaning back in his chair, he linked his fingers and rested his hands across his abdomen. He intentionally maintained eye contact with her, forcing himself to manage the sensual urging within him. Once he did, the decision became obvious and he felt an immediate sense of relief and rightness.

“Mrs. Adams.”

“Yes, sir.”

Was there a note of wariness in her voice?

“I would like to offer you a position.”

She raised her eyebrows in elegant twin arcs. “As your bookkeeper?”

He smiled, recalling their earlier conversation about the other diversions Bentley’s provided for its members. The woman was sharp.

“As my bookkeeper and auditor.” She tilted her head in silent inquiry, and he elaborated. “I need you to go back through the full scope of Bentley’s accounts, starting at the beginning, and see what you can discover regarding these refunds and anything else that appears out of the ordinary. You will also need to bring the accounts current and maintain them going forward.”

“What shall be my salary?”

Roderick felt reluctant admiration for her straightforward manner, even as he felt a swift urge to shake her up. He decided he would pay her the same wage he had paid Goodwin, with a bonus if she managed to clarify and resolve any discrepancies.

She nodded in acceptance of the amount. “I will need my first week paid in advance.”

Now it was his turn to arch his brows at the bold demand, but he felt no tingle of warning or clench of trepidation.

“I need you to start immediately. Tomorrow, if possible. You can do your work in the hours before the club opens and your Sundays will be your own. Any other days you wish to take for personal time can be discussed as needed. Your first week will be paid in advance. Thereafter, you will be paid at the conclusion of each month.”

“My first week in advance, thereafter I would prefer to be paid biweekly.”

She was rather pushy. It amused rather than annoyed him. After a short hesitation, he gave a nod. “Biweekly.”

“And I shall need to leave for the day by one o’clock.”

“Unless there are some extenuating circumstances requiring you to stay longer, that should not be a problem. Provided you make reasonable progress on your work.”

There was an evident pause before she gave her response. “I accept.”

Roderick stood and walked around the desk. He held out his hand to seal the arrangement.

She did not hesitate to extend her gloved hand and place it in his. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate this opportunity.”

Her hand was warm, her grip confident. She tipped her head back in order to meet his gaze beyond the brim of her bonnet, and he was struck by how different she looked in that moment from when she had first appeared in his office. The shadowed wariness had faded from her eyes, and her lips were relaxed into something nearly resembling a smile.

They were lovely lips, he noted. Pert, but full and colored a pale rosy pink that begged for the sweep of his tongue. He didn’t realize he was staring at her mouth until she lowered her chin and the edge of her bonnet broke his line of vision.

He released her hand and cleared his throat. “I expect the association to be mutually beneficial, Mrs. Adams.” Turning away, he led her to the door and drew it open for her to pass through. “Bishop here will see you out.” He looked at his footman. “And, Bishop?”

The young man pushed off from where he had been leaning negligently against the wall. “Yes, sir.”

“Be sure any further applicants are advised the position is filled.”