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Or would not think of refusing. Or could not. The research she must have done to discover his name and the nature of his services might also have uncovered his financial difficulties. Lud, for all Stony knew, Miss Kane had a complete accounting of his bank statements, as a favor from one banking establishment to another. Then again, the servants’ grapevine might have been enough to reveal his so-called profession and his so-real insolvency. Damn.
    Please call at Number Ten Sloane Street as soon as possible. At least she had written please , so the female was not entirely without manners. She had not, however, mentioned his earliest convenience, an invitation to tea, or the possibility of his declining. She was hiring a blasted servant, by God, and saw no reason to be polite.
    Unless she spoke to all men that way, Stony speculated. Perhaps the heiress was so accustomed to toadeaters and fortune-hunters that she despised the entire male species. That was it, he decided. Miss Kane had to be one of those starched up females who thought all men were swine, good only to serve as obedient butlers and strong-backed blacksmiths. The only reason she was not content to have a footman shadow her on her sightseeing and shopping excursions was that no footman, no mere servant, no matter how bent on catering to her every wish, could get her access to the exclusive entertainments of the London social Season.
    With the aunt dead, the banker’s daughter had no one to make her known to the important hostesses, no one to seek vouchers to Almack’s exclusive Wednesday assemblies for her. With the stink of trade fumigated by her father’s knighthood, masked by the marquessate connection, and perfumed by a fortune, Miss Kane could be accepted by all but the highest sticklers—with the proper introductions. Without them, she could never get to look over the latest crop of highborn bachelors, if she was indeed husband hunting.
    The aunt had never married, and this female, if Gwen’s information was correct, had even more brass at her fingertips, therefore less need to put herself under some gentleman’s thumb. Stony could not picture the author of this note taking her place as the demure bride of some overbearing boor.
    Yet why else would the woman come to London? If her reasons were legal or financial, to do with her aunt’s estate, say, her man of business would be ample attendant. Fashions? She could have the finest dressmaker in the kingdom come to her. The opera? The theater? Possibly, and both of those venues truly were more comfortable with a gentleman escort. But a countrywoman craving culture? Stony doubted it. No, Miss Coin must be shopping the marriage mart, likely looking for the highest title, connected to the weakest backbone.
    He went back to the letter.
    Yrs. , she signed the note.
    His?
    Hah!

Chapter Four
    All of Stony’s theories about Miss Kane, he acknowledged, were no more than idle speculation. And a way to avoid actually calling on the woman.
    He even convinced himself that he had to do more research before accepting this prospective employer, that his antipathy toward her was merely a product of his resentment at his own situation. He hated being dependent on the whims of anyone, man or woman. A woman at the reins was worse, he admitted to himself, but he should not hold that against Miss Kane.
    He could not convince himself to look forward to meeting her, no matter how he tried. No, what he actually, honestly felt was that the woman was too deuced sure of herself. She could dashed well wait another day before he dutifully presented himself in her drawing room. Unless she expected him to use the trade entrance. He would use the time to gather information, as she seemed to have done about him.
    The lending library might have stacks of reference books, but the best, most reliable knowledge, he knew, was to be found at pubs patronized by servants, smoking rooms frequented by gentlemen, and anywhere three or more females