Page 4 of The Duke's Rules Of Engagement
Would he, now?So this stern, stiff man wanted to find a bride. He certainly didn’t appear to be excited about the prospect—rather, he looked as if being here was a repulsive chore that might result in permanent damage to his person. She stepped back and gestured politely into the tiny space. “Please, come in.”
He entered, and she closed the door behind him. “May I inquire who referred you to Mrs. Porter?”
“You may.”
She waited once more. Did he really expect her to askagain?
The seconds ticked by. Evidently, he did.
“Who referred you to Mrs. Porter?”
“Sir Harry Acheson.”
Ah, Sir Harry. Jo’s heart softened. He had been one of her first clients, so eager to find a wife—any wife—that it had been as much work to keep him from proposing to every lady that crossed his path as it had been to find him that special woman who was just right for him. He and his wife, Mary Anne, had been blissfully married for four years now and had become her good friends.
“I am Joanna Porter.”
He stared blankly at her. “I requireMrs. Porter.”
“That is I.”
“Of course it is not,” he informed her. “Mrs. Porter is a married lady of middle age. You,” he said with a scowl, “are hardly out of the schoolroom.”
Jo’s smile broadened. “I am, in fact, several years out of the schoolroom.” A decade, if you wanted to be exact about it. “But you are correct that I am not married.”
“There must have been some confusion. Forgive me.” He turned as if to leave, but Jo lunged between him and the door. This close, he smelled of bergamot and citrus, sweet and tart and cool, and she couldn’t help inhaling as she looked up into his handsome face.
“You see,” she said, somewhat breathless, “discretion requires I use the professional name ofMrs. An older, married lady in my profession tends to be better received than an unmarried younger woman.”
He merely shook his head, his posture radiating distrust, and she tried again. “Trust me, sir, I am quite skilled at what I do. My clients are exceedingly satisfied—as I am certain Sir Harry has attested.”
He stared at her for a moment, his lips flattening as her own spread into a smile. He had rather nice lips, despite his insistence on setting them in such a thin, stern line.
“I am not certain this is entirely—”
“Proper?” She didn’t wait for him to answer before saying, “Oh, I assure you, it is quite proper. I am here solely to assist my clients in a most upright and professional manner. I am conscientious of discretion, and if we happen to meet outside of this office, we will strictly adhere to all social protocols. My clients are often in the public eye, and I assist them in avoiding rumor, innuendo, and gossip at all costs. What happens in this office remains in this office.” She pressed her fingertips to her heart. “You have my word.”
Well, that had been more than Jo had intended to say.“What happens in this office”—ugh! Hopefully he didn’t take that as an implication that something would behappeninghere, besides their in-depth interviews so she could determine exactly what kind of woman would be his perfect match.
Heat prickled over her cheeks, but she kept her smile firmly in place and her eyes locked on his. They were the most extraordinary color—a complex caramel brown with the slightest hint of amber—
“Well,” he finally grumbled, “I suppose it is acceptable.”
It was suddenly glaringly obvious that he hadn’t given her a name. She had no idea who this man was, nor how to ask him. Usually, when it was men who entered her office, they introduced themselves to her post-haste, like Mr. Pellegrini: “Mrs. Porter?Eccellente!I am Flavio Pellegrini! And I wish to find a bride!”
Mr. Pellegrini made everything so easy.
Mr. Tall, Dark, and Nameless here was no Mr. Pellegrini.
“Please,” she said, gesturing to the green armchair in front of her desk, “do sit down.”
After studying her warily for another moment, he sat rigidly, which was a feat—the chair was so soft and comfortable, most of her clients sank into it and instantly relaxed with a sigh of pleasure.
Releasing a measured breath, Jo moved behind her desk and settled into her seat across from him. “All right, then. What can I do for you, Mr…”Tall, Dark, and Nameless.Fortunately, she let the salutation hang rather than blurtingthatout.
He stiffened—if that was even possible. He had already been stiff as a board. Now he looked brittle, like he might crack straight down the middle. “I am Matthew Leighton…”
“Mr. Leighton—” she began when he hesitated, but he interrupted her.
