eyes as he looked at her, single. But not for long, if she had her way.
He tilted his head. ‘You are correct. I have no title, as of yet. Nor am I likely to get one. But they are sometimes awarded to men whose service merits them and I am not yet thirty. With time and effort, anything is possible, Miss Strickland.’
She steadied herself from the shock and turned to face him with as much grace as possible, struggling to maintain the expression she’d been practising in the mirror. ‘Then you are not my cousin from America?’
‘The future Earl of Comstock?’ His smile softened. ‘Unfortunately, no.’ He bowed from the waist. ‘Gregory Drake, at your service, Miss Strickland. I was told you’d be expecting me.’
She could feel her smile faltering and struggled against the impolite response, who?
More importantly, how? She glanced to the front door which had not opened to admit anyone, much less this interloper. Then, she made an effort to compose herself. ‘I fear you were incorrectly informed. I was not told there would be a guest this morning. You have caught me unprepared.’
He followed her eyes, read the meaning and gave a deferential dip of his head. ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Strickland. I was retained by your brother-in-law to help with certain difficulties your family is experiencing. Since the matter is one that requires discretion, I entered through the rear to avoid calling attention.’
‘The tradesman’s entrance.’ Of course he had. If Mr Leggett had hired him, why should he not begin there?
He nodded, solemnly.
A torrent of unladylike words filled her mind about trumped-up nobodies with delusions of a grand future who had the gall to tease her with them. And worse yet, who had the nerve to look like the answer to a maiden’s prayers. He had no right to be so handsome, yet so inappropriate.
Then, the rant changed to encompass her sister’s husband, who had hired this...this...person. She ended with a scold for Grandmama, who probably knew the whole story and had neglected to tell her any of it, just as she had with the difficulties surrounding an audit. The Dowager probably thought it amusing to throw the two of them together so Hope might make a fool of herself.
When she was sure that her actual words would leave her mouth with a minimum of bile, she said, ‘So Mr Leggett has sent you to save us from ourselves.’
Her control was not perfect. She still sounded ungrateful, but she had a right to be angry. She had been behaving like an idiot when he’d entered. It likely confirmed what he already thought of the family: that they were a houseful of silly women, incapable of caring for themselves.
Of course, that was what she often thought, when faced with the latest exploit of her sister or her grandmother. She did not deny that they had problems, but how could a stranger possibly understand them the way she did?
She forced another smile. It was not the warm one she was saving for the Earl. The one she gave to Mr Drake was sufficient for solicitors and shopkeepers. ‘How much has Mr Leggett told you about our difficulty?’
‘Everything, I suspect. You seek the return of certain items before an impending inventory.’ If he thought her rude, he did not show it. His manner reflected hers. He was professionally pleasant, but revealed no trace of his true thoughts or feelings.
So, he suspected he knew everything. That proved how little he actually knew. Even Mr Leggett did not know the worst of it for Hope had not wished to ruin Faith’s honeymoon with what she had recently discovered. But Mr Drake should at least understand that none of it was Hope’s fault. To prove her lack of culpability, she said aloud the words that had been echoing in her mind since she had learned the extent of their troubles. ‘Grandmama should not have sold things that did not belong to her. Nor should she have kept our financial difficulties a secret for so long.’
He offered another sympathetic nod. ‘But what could you have done, had you known?’
Very little. Faith had been the one in charge of the family budget and her decisions had seemed sensible enough. Economies had been taken in diet and dress. Rooms had been shut and staff had been released. How much less would they have had without Grandmama’s judicious thefts refilling the accounts?
The fact that there had been no other solution did not make her feel any better, now that reckoning had arrived. ‘The past does not matter. It is the future that I am worried about. There will be a scandal, if the truth comes out.’
‘I am here to see that it never does,’ he said. ‘I have helped more than a few families with similar problems. Taking desperate measures when there is a shortage of funds is not at all unusual.’
‘I assume Mr Leggett means to buy back the lost items?’ It was a generous plan from a man who had no idea the depth of the problem.
‘He said you had a list.’
‘After a fashion,’ she said, giving nothing away. By the look on Mr Drake’s face, he expected her to turn over the details of her family’s darkest secrets without as much as a by your leave. She had no reason to trust this stranger who appeared out of nowhere with far too much information and no introduction, verbal or written. For all she knew, he was an agent of the new Earl and they were already discovered.
He gave another encouraging smile. ‘If you share it with me, then I will go about my business and leave you to yours. The matter will be settled without another thought from you.’
She could not help a derisive snort. It would serve him right if she told him the truth and then sent him on his way with no other help. ‘Very well, then.’ She turned from him and walked down the hall to the morning room. He could follow or not. It did not really matter.
She heard the measured steps of his boots follow down the corridor and into the room. When she withdrew the crumpled paper from the little writing desk in the corner, she turned to find him still a respectful few steps behind her. She handed him the list. ‘There you go. Settle our troubles, if you still think you can.’
She watched his handsome brow furrow as he read down the column. ‘Blue painting. Candlesticks. Third Earl’s inkwell.’ He glanced up at her, clearly surprised. ‘That is all the detail you have? Nothing to tell me if the candlesticks were gold or silver?’ The furrows grew even deeper. ‘And I cannot make out this line at all.’
‘Neither can I,’ she said, trying to contain the malicious glee as he was brought into her suffering. ‘My grandmother is a woman of many words, but we can seldom get the ones we need out of her. It took some effort to get this much detail, for she kept no records of the things she sold and the places she took them. And I am quite certain there are items missing from this account.’ Only one of them had any significance. But it was not a story she wished to tell, just yet. ‘I will question her further, but I do not know how much more she will admit.’
‘It is fortunate that dealers keep better records than their clients,’ he said. ‘It might take some persuading for them to give the information up. There are laws against dealing in entailed merchandise.’
‘I am well aware of the fact.’ Her grandmother was as guilty or more so than the people she’d bartered with. They might be receivers of stolen goods, but she was the actual thief.
‘But if they do not remember her?’ The look on his face changed to resignation. ‘Would you recognise these items, if you saw them again?’
‘Most of them, I think,’ she said. ‘I have lived in the house since I was ten. They should at least be familiar, should I find them in a shop window.’
He sighed. ‘Then it would be best if you come with me, to retrieve them.’
‘You are suggesting that I accompany a strange man to unseemly parts of London to retrieve stolen goods.’
‘I am not a stranger, as such,’ he reminded her. His smile returned, though it was somewhat the worse for wear. ‘I was sent by your brother-in-law to help you.’
‘I