Miss Abbott took the seat behind Stephen’s desk. “You really can be quite detestable, my lord.”

“Nonsense. You have been anxious, exhausted, concerned for your household, and had nobody with whom to think the situation through. A half-daft, wealthy marquess makes a formidable foe. What you detest is being out-gunned and out-maneuvered by him.”

She tapped a fingernail against his blotter, like a cat switching its tail. “I hate that too, but I cannot carry on my business expecting every coach I climb onto will be stopped and searched, and every roast I serve will be poisoned. Dying will at least stop the attempts on my person.”

She was magnificently stubborn, and that quality was probably why she had so many happy clients.

Stephen, however, had learned to be stubborn as a matter of survival, and now he would be stubborn for her sake as well.

“The attacks will stop,” he said, “only until Stapleton figures out that you are not, in fact, deceased. What of your family, Miss Abbott? Will you leave them to grieve your passing with no explanation? They will inherit your personal goods, I’m guessing, and Stapleton might well turn his attention in that direction. A passel of peace-loving Quakers up against a man who resorts to armed criminals and poison. How well do you think your thee-thou aunties and grannies would fare against such odds?”

“You would like them,” she said, balancing the point of his favorite silver letter opener on the tip of her finger. “Their unwillingness to use force of arms means they are ingenious about other means of persuasion.”

“If you’d like to put your feet up on my desk, please feel free.” Stephen could picture her like that, at ease, feet up, her grand decorum for once set aside.

She put down the letter opener, shoved out of his chair, and returned to his side on the sofa. “I would not risk my family for anything. You know that, which is why you are herding me into a corner of your choosing. I do not appreciate the manipulation, my lord, so let’s just hear your brilliant plan for thwarting Stapleton’s mischief.”

“Kiss me.”

Her scowl was thunderous. “That is not a plan, my lord. That doesn’t even qualify as a jest.”

“And eau de napping hedgehog is not an enticing fragrance, Miss Abbott. If my plan is to have a prayer of working, you must be able to suffer proximity to my person.”

Wariness joined the disapproval in her eyes. “I am proximate to your person now.”

“A salient fact.” Stephen sat up enough to brush his lips over her cheek, then pulled back to survey her reaction. “That went rather well. If we’re to be engaged, you must weather at least that much affection from me, and it appears you are up to the challenge.”

Oh, damn. Now she was looking bewildered. “You are eccentric. I know that. I counted on that. A near genius, in the opinion of many, but a difficult man. I wanted exactly that sort of help when I came here, and now you are kissing me and spouting nonsense. I had best be going.”