Elsmore picked Voltaire up and passed her to Eleanora. He turned to go, and a knock sounded on the door.

“Are you expecting company?” he asked.

“At this hour? Of course not.” Ellie brushed past him and moved the little pear-shaped metal flap to peer into the corridor.

Jack stood on the other side of the door, staring straight at the spy-hole. He was bare-headed, meaning he’d pawned his hat, and he was alone. He was also family, and he wouldn’t be here if he had anywhere else to go.

Ellie opened the door. “Jack, this is unexpected.” She purposely stood in the doorway lest Jack see that she had company.

“Pammie and Clyde don’t want me going north with them. My landlord cut me loose a week ago. I have two pieces of shortbread to my name, and nobody is hiring a bookkeeper, accountant, clerk, or porter answering to my description. I’m desperate, Ellie, and unless you are willing to help me, my options are to starve or go back to picking pockets.”

Oh, Jack. Why now? Why offer that confession when Elsmore could hear every word?

The door opened wide enough to reveal Elsmore at Ellie’s side. “You understand bookkeeping?” the duke asked.

“I do.”

“Eleanora?”

“Your Grace, may I introduce to you my cousin Jackson Naylor, part-time scapegrace. Jack, Wrexham, His Grace of Elsmore, full-time nuisance. Jack has an excellent eye for numbers, but he’s also a competent sneak thief, housebreaker, confidence trickster, and a fair hand cheating at cards. Oh, and he’s as talented an artist as Grandfather ever was. Elsmore is as smart as he is well mannered, Jack, so don’t think to run a rig on him.”

Jack stepped into the parlor. “You’d kill me if I tried to run a rig on him.”

I won’t be here to kill you. I’ll be in France. Wodin stood, gaze alert and fixed on Jack. “I’d kill you,” Ellie said, “and feed the pieces to my four-legged friends.”

“What if he ran a rig for me?” Elsmore asked. “Or did a little discreet reconnoitering on my behalf?”

“No.” Ellie nearly shouted, which had all the occupants in the room—dog, cat, and both men—regarding her quizzically. “You will not involve my cousin in arguably illegal schemes to extricate your family from impending ruin. I won’t have it.”

“What does it pay?” Jack asked.

“Jack, no,” Ellie said, lowering her voice by dint of sheer will. “You could swing for it. Breaking and entering, attempted theft, trespass. You know what can happen. Transportation would be the most you could hope for, and claiming you were on some errand for a duke would not save you.”

Jack was gaunt. His clothing hadn’t been pressed in ages. He didn’t stink yet, but Ellie knew intimately the progression from respectability to desperation, and Jack was one step away from wild schemes and criminal misconduct.