They stared at one another for several long heartbeats, and Georgie quelled a rising sense of alarm. She’d been sure he’d jump at the chance to reduce his debts. She’d never faced a situation where the right amount of money hadn’t solved the problem.

“I’m merely suggesting a mutually beneficial arrangement,” she hurried on. “It would be useful to have you around to act as a buffer between myself and my cousin. And to deter other fortune hunters.”

“I see.”

She narrowed her eyes and fixed him with the look she usually reserved for tradesmen who tried to overcharge her simply because she was female. Those idiots assumed she was mentally impaired because she had squashy lumps on the front of her chest instead of something dangling between her legs.

“I do hope you’re not one of these men who have difficulty dealing with a woman. This is no different from me engaging a shipwright to build me a brig, or a cobbler to make me shoes. You are known for your superior skills of social interaction, Mr. Wylde. I am merely offering to engage your services until the end of the season.”

Benedict struggled to keep his face impassive as irritation warred with amusement. Pay him to woo her? What sort of woman suggested such a thing? He didn’t know whether to pity her, laugh at her, or be very, very afraid.

His pride rebelled against her offer of money, but the brutal truth was, he didn’t have the luxury of being able to refuse. Morcott’s survival was more important than any personal humiliation he might endure.

He returned his attention to the woman who was turning his life upside down. This was the first time he’d seen her in full daylight. The morning sun that streamed through the window picked out the copper in her hair and highlighted the fine grain of her skin. She wasn’t one of those women who needed the flattering glow of candlelight to appear to her best advantage. She looked small and fierce, and utterly delectable.

Benedict rearranged himself discreetly in his chair. He’d barely been able to concentrate on what she was saying; he kept getting distracted by those perfect pink lips, the thick sweep of her lashes, and those startling eyes. Every time she looked at him directly, he felt his pulse leap and his blood thicken. Her confidence and clever mind attracted him in ways he couldn’t explain.

He’d never met a more self-sufficient woman in his life. Rather daunting, her intellect. Had she been a man in the army, she would have been a strategist to equal Wellington. A formidable opponent, Miss Caversteed. Or rather, Mrs. Wylde. Thank God she had no idea how appealing he found her—she seemed quite prepared to use every weapon at her disposal to get what she wanted.