Perhaps Mr. Hatfield was not such a lucky man after all. His wife clearly held the institution of marriage in no affection whatsoever, though the fault for that might lie at the feet of the husband.

None of your business, old man.

“I will take a wife and at least make a good faith effort to see to the succession.”

She stuck the pencil behind her ear. “Such a sacrifice on your part, seeing to the succession. Never did mortal man engage in comparable heroics for such a noble cause at such great risk to his own well-being. I commend you for it.”

Not even Rex’s male cousins would have fired that salvo, though the lady had a point.

“Forget about me, then,” Rex went on, “but recall my three sisters. Any one of them could bring a fellow up to scratch at tonight’s soiree, and I could be in settlement negotiations next week. What do you suppose a detailed examination of my books would reveal?”

Mrs. Hatfield gazed into the middle distance, as if counting butterflies dancing on imaginary sunbeams. “Looming chaos, thinly veiled graft, perhaps even somebody hoping to make you look like the thief.”

Ye thundering heavenly choruses, Rex had not thought of that. “You have a pessimistic view of life.”

She went to tidy a lock of hair by sweeping it over her ear and had apparently forgotten about the pencil, which sailed onto the table and clattered past her reach.

“An auditor’s lot results in an unflattering view of human nature, sir.”

Rex took a moment to assess strategy. An assertion of rank would likely provoke not simply a smile but gales of laughter. Nobody told this woman what to do, not even the Duke of Walden. She apparently prowled the bank at liberty, poking her nose wherever she deigned to poke it.

She was a stranger to flattery or perhaps its sworn foe.

Attempted bribery would earn him summary eviction from the premises.

What did he have that Mrs. Eleanora Hatfield—and Mr. Hatfield, if any such fellow existed—wanted badly enough to take on the challenge of untangling his books?

“If you will aid me, madam, and put my books to rights, I will deed to you or to the party of your choice ownership of Ambledown in fee simple absolute. The property carries no mortgages, and I assure you it is profitable. Being so close to London, I’ve bided there frequently and can vouch for the integrity of my retainers and tenants.”

He’d surprised her. Those swooping brows rose, then knit. The brown eyes stared at the errant pencil in the middle of the table. She straightened in her chair, pursed her lips, and shook her head.

“I cannot leave my post at Wentworth and Penrose, sir, not for the length of time required to investigate your situation. My employers expect loyalty from me, and—”