“And I am endlessly grateful for your efforts,” he said, draping a scarf over a peg beside the door. His hat went on another peg, his coat on the third. Thus did he gradually assert dominion over a space Ellie would have said he could never claim. “I have every confidence you will succeed, but I cannot continue to deliver my personal accounts to this institution, day after day.”

He wore morning attire, and he wore it very well. Whereas Quinn Wentworth dressed with the sobriety of a wealthy undertaker, Elsmore knew how to achieve style without appearing foppish. His boutonniere today was a pink rosebud and a few sprigs of lavender. His two watch fobs were anchored in their buttonholes with tiny sapphires mounted in gold. Jewels for daytime were an unusual choice, but on him, the effect was fashionable. The silk ribbon banding his top hat was dark blue, and his morning coat indigo.

He had an innate sense of style that other men likely envied, and women would notice without putting a name to.

“How am I to conduct an audit without seeing your books, Your Grace?”

Ellie’s notes were spread across the table, but she’d taken the desk this morning, the better to have an abacus, spare paper, and blotter between her and the duke.

“You will see my books, of course, but you cannot see them here.” He studied himself in the pier glass and ran his hand through his hair to eliminate the creases caused by his hat. The result was slightly tousled and—drat the man—dashing.

“Do you impugn the security of Wentworth and Penrose, Your Grace? Nobody on these premises will so much as peek at your blessed books. They are safer here than in your own estate office.” Ellie was safe here too, and that was not a detail.

He poured a cup of tea from the service on the sideboard. “Do you take milk or sugar in your tea?”

What had that—? “I’ve had my tea for the morning, thank you.” One cup from the bakeshop. Plain.

He added sugar and milk. “Join me in having a second. The morning will be long.”

Based on his expression, his evening had been long. His eyes were tired, his mouth bracketed in grooves. He’d not smiled since coming through the door. He set the cup and saucer by Ellie’s elbow, along with a table napkin and the plate of shortbread.

“Do you customarily wait on others, sir?”

“Would you believe I am the realm’s best-dressed lackey? I have three younger sisters. They took my education seriously.” He held his own cup of tea beneath his nose and inhaled. The bank stocked a good black tea, and the baked goods were delivered fresh from the shop across the street. Ellie typically did not indulge, which left more for the tellers and clerks.