“I came down from York when Wentworth and Penrose moved its headquarters south. I was with the bank in York, and had seen enough northern winters.” She wished she’d come to London when the bank had moved to the capital. That had not been the case. She’d been sent south with Pammie, Jack, and Mick when one of Grandfather’s chancier schemes had collapsed, and thank heavens she’d found employment clerking for a mercer soon after.

“Why is there no Mr. Hatfield?” Elsmore asked.

“Because I prefer it that way.” Mostly. How could she explain Jack, Mick, and Pammie to a Mr. Hatfield? How could she keep a husband safe from her family’s relentless mischief?

And yet, Ellie considered herself in the confidence of the Duchess of Walden, and that good lady became positively luminous on the topic of domesticating with her duke. In the presence of the Wentworth offspring, the duke himself was shockingly affectionate, and had been known to laugh out loud.

Elsmore shifted his legs, which even in this behemoth conveyance, brushed Ellie’s skirts. “I might prefer not to have a wife, at least for the present. The Duke of Devonshire appears determined to maintain his bachelorhood and he’s a notably sanguine soul.”

The coach rounded a corner and picked up speed, which caused the stack of ledgers to slide. Ellie reached for them at the same time Elsmore did, so her hand was trapped beneath his. She couldn’t pull back until the coach was again traveling straight.

Ellie’s inherent curiosity absorbed Elsmore’s personal details rather than the awkwardness of the moment. According to his account books, the black glove covering her much-darned brown mitten had been made for the duke at Halverston’s. His top hat was a Dunsmore creation, and he’d recently ordered three more just like it.

His soap came from Belleville’s Emporium, a custom blend for which he paid dearly. Note to the margin: Did he pay too dearly?

She catalogued those facts as his words wedged past her perceptions to bump up against her weariness: I might prefer not to have a wife, at least for the present.

She took two of the ledgers onto her lap and passed him the other two. “I thought this whole endeavor of sorting out your books was so you could take a wife without fear of scandal.”

“It is, and your initial findings tell me the exercise was long overdue. I am obligated by my station to marry, and my dear mother would gladly see me wed to any suitable parti.”

Ellie acknowledged a pang of envy toward the suitable parti, a woman who’d doubtless share many smiles with Elsmore and care not one whit that he had no privacy whatsoever.

Time to return to the topic of business. “I’ll show you Lord Stephen’s private entrance and how to use his lift. How shall I summon you if I have questions?”