As Jack’s favors went, that sounded innocuous enough, but then, they all did at first. “I am a clerk at a bank,” Ellie said. “I do not mingle with ladies.”

Jack smiled at her, which was utterly wasted effort. She’d fallen for his charm once, half a lifetime ago. Even then, she’d seen the determination in his eyes despite his smiles.

“You mingle with a duchess,” he said, “and she mingles with ladies. Go for a walk in the park with Walton’s duchess and express idle curiosity. Her Grace will babble as all the fine women do, and you can tell me which pretty face I need to watch for on some dreary Wednesday night.”

Ellie resumed walking, a shipwrecked sailor swimming doggedly for shore. “Whether you are planning to steal the lady’s jewels, forge her portrait, or sell her secrets, I want no part of it.”

He could do all three. He had done all three, at various times, and he was by no means the worst of the lot. Almack’s held their assemblies on Wednesday evenings, suggesting Jack was looking for a plump pigeon to fleece, one way or another.

“I kept a roof over your head, Eleanora. A pretty little thing new to London would have been ill-used and you know it.”

Whatever his scheme, it was apparently borne of desperation. Jack reverted to his Great Protector speech when he was pockets to let.

“We squatted,” Ellie retorted. “We bided illegally in condemned buildings. We scavenged the middens of the hotels, clubs, and great houses.” Because Ellie had had the sense to know where the best scraps would be and the boldness to root for them.

The smell of kitchen waste still had the power to make her ill.

“She needn’t attend Almack’s then,” Jack said. “But nobody gets into that place without having substantial blunt. Makes choosing a mark much simpler.”

The artist in Jack loved the spectacle of society balls. He stood outside the great houses of Mayfair gawking along with the rest of London’s idlers, and polite society—the hostesses were too ignorant to realize they invited a wolf to their windows—preened for his amusement.

“Whatever scheme you’re hatching this time, I want no part of it.” One street to go, then Jack would tip his hat and bid her farewell, pray God.

“Stubborn. How I adore a stubborn woman.” He patted Ellie’s arm as her doorstep came into view. “You can take the woman out of the stews, but she’ll never be a lady. Waltz around at your bank all you please, little Ellie, and that won’t change who your people are. Walden ignores what he knows of your past, but should our history become public, you’d find yourself without a post and you know it.”