Meaning his loyalties were firmly lodged with my lady.
“I have no need of a new valet,” he repeated. Then he leaned forward, choosing to speak plainly. “Isabelle, have done. I value our working relationship and have no wish for it to end, but I cannot have you paying my servants.” It allowed her to spy on his every action and he could no longer tolerate such supervision, even from the woman who had taught him everything he knew about business.
“It is agift, and one you did not refuse when you first came to London.”
It was a gift that made him into her cicisbeo, and he’d left her bed years ago. He’d fallen into her clutches at nineteen as a randy boy excited to learn the bedroom arts from a woman of such renown. That was ten years ago, and even then he hadn’t the stomach for some of her favorite entertainments. So he’d left her bed and become valuable in other ways.
Over the last nine years he’d been her investment analyst—nothing more, nothing less. As a wealthy widow, she had money to spend, but as a woman, she couldn’t access the kind of information she needed to make good decisions. Not easily. So she trained him to ferret out ventures, to investigate the men in charge, and determined their weaknesses.
In return, she paid his tailor bill and his valet. Nine years ago, he thought of it as his uniform. If she wanted him to discover certain information, she would have to outfit him such that he could move through society to learn whatever she wanted to know.
It worked beautifully for a time. What little money he had, he invested alongside hers. The returns had grown and now he had a sizeable amount to use as he saw fit. Isabelle wanted him to put it all in her canals. They were in need of repairs, and her own funds were spent elsewhere. But he wanted less entanglement with her, not more. More important, he wanted control, and Isabelle would never give him that.
“Isabelle,” he said gently. “Surely you understand that I want to find a venture of my own.”
“But you can have much more profit if you invest with me. I could make you an excellent deal.”
“You will give me a controlling interest?” he pressed, already knowing the answer.
“You haven’t enough money for that.”
He arched a brow at her—neither confirming nor denying the statement—and she raised her eyebrows as if intrigued.
“If you have that much blunt, then we can find other investments,” she said. “I have heard something exciting is brewing with Mr. Hollow near the docks. Something real this time.”
He doubted it. Mr. Hollow enjoyed flights of fancy, pretending to opportunities that never materialized. “There are plenty of men who would jump at the chance to partner with you.”
“But none with your insight. None who will climb into the water and work alongside the men to be sure it is done correctly. You know as a woman, I cannot do such a thing.” She leaned forward, giving him a full view of her cleavage. “I trust you.”
Isabelle trusted no one. He looked out the window because her assets—all of them—no longer appealed. “I will find my own venture, Isabelle, something I control.” He set his tea down untouched. “Now do you wish to discuss Mr. Hollow’s latest scheme? Or should I take myself off?”
She looked at him hard, her expression growing increasingly foul. “Let me speak plainly,” she began.
Finally.
“I want your money for my canals. You want my support when you launch your sisters. Imagine how horrible it would be for them to come to London and find every eligible bachelor turned against them.”
His brows narrowed. “You would do that to my family? To me?” he pressed. “I have brought you countless profitable ventures and steered you away from the disastrous ones.”
“I taught you what to look for, what questions to ask. I showed you how to ferret out the truth—”
“And I crawled through mines, studied sewers, inspected hellholes, even risked jail to learn what you needed.” He grabbed a tiny sandwich and ate it in measured, steady bites. “Our association has been fruitful.”
“For us both.”
More so for her, but he counted his education as a significant benefit. “Do not end it now just because I seek a little independence.”
She waited as she sipped her tea, her expression demure. For a moment there, he thought he had won. He’d given up his valet, frequented a different tailor, even moved to smaller rooms all so that he could cut any string between them. What remained was shared interest and mutual respect. She had a keen mind when she did not obsess over petty slights. He hoped that was enough to keep her well disposed toward him since she was still more powerful than he among the financial set.
“No,” she said, her tone taking on the cadence of a command. “I require your money in my canals.”
So much for mutual respect and shared interests. “Isabelle,” he chided. “You overstep.”
“I will add my voice to your sister’s come-out. She’ll be married within a month.”
It was a fair offer if she could accomplish it. Then she sweetened the offer.
“I will even help with all three of your sisters, not just the eldest.” She smiled at him. “That’s quite a commitment from me given that I know nothing about their talents. Come now. I’ve drawn up papers.” She pulled an envelope out of a writing desk set close at hand. From it, she withdrew an investment contract and pushed it toward him. “You won’t get a better offer.”