“I’m using my granny’s trick for easing a megrim. It doesn’t always work immediately or entirely, but it can’t hurt and it’s much safer than a patent remedy.” And it cost nothing, always a consideration.

Though Ellie should have realized that Granny’s trick meant more or less gazing into the duke’s eyes while holding hands with him across the desk.

The odd familiarity seemed to bother him not at all. “Your grip is strong, Mrs. Hatfield, and your husband is a lucky man. Would he mind if I brought my books to your home?”

“What? You cannot bring the books to my home.”

“You never receive callers? Your husband never receives callers?”

As firmly as Ellie pressed her thumb and forefinger into Elsmore’s hands, even more assuredly did she feel his curiosity intruding into her privacy. She let go of him and sat back.

“I have no husband.”

The duke clenched and unclenched his hands, big masculine paws that closed into capable-looking fists for all the lace at his wrists.

“No Mr. Hatfield. I see.”

No, he did not. He did not see that even the tiny scrap of respectability that went with appropriating a married woman’s form of address was precious. Housekeepers were invariably addressed as Missus. Women who ran their own shops were frequently Missus, and a husband need not come into it in either case.

“I have rooms in proper lodgings in a proper neighborhood. You should not call upon me…” Though in truth, Lord Stephen’s establishment boasted certain amenities. “I hesitate to tell you this.”

“We either solve the immediate dilemma or I might as well run an ad in the Gazette that I’m so distrustful of my own employees I’ve asked a competitor to look into my personal books. Dorset and Becker won’t last a fortnight thereafter, but I’ll have my audit.”

Still, Ellie dreaded the thought of Elsmore in her parlor, even for the time it took him to deliver a few ledgers or answer the odd question. Jack would watch and wait, and sooner or later, he’d draw the wrong conclusions.

“You were right to arrange an audit,” Ellie said. “Your books are askew. I already know that much. A system that allots to each factor a limited area of responsibility has ended up limiting accountability as well.”

“Somebody is stealing from me. You have barely scratched the surface of my ledgers and you know that already.” His attitude was philosophical acceptance of another problem to be solved rather than anger or even annoyance.

Ellie was annoyed enough on his behalf that she’d decided to make an attempt to straighten out his books as a matter of professional pride. Two weeks was insufficient for a thorough audit, though she could get a sense of where the problems might be buried.