Chapter One
October 1816, London
“You look like a man to me!”
Ellis Dangerfield raised a brow at her giggling landlady, who’d helped assemble and don Ellis’s disguise as a young man. Pivoting, Ellis regarded herself in the cracked glass that hung in her room. She could not see her entire body in the small oval, but viewing her face was enough. A dark brown beard and mustache masked her feminine features, particularly her mouth, and her blonde curls were tucked beneath a thick—and rather hot—wig of the same color.
“I don’t know.” Ellis chewed the inside of her lip as she faced Mrs. Palmer once more. “Perhaps this is too risky.”
Mrs. Palmer cocked her head as she swept Ellis with her warm blue gaze. “Probably, but don’t you have to try?”
Ellis was quickly losing her courage. Whilst she desperately needed employment, she ought to try for something suitable for a woman. Secretary to a marquess was not that. However, secretary to a marquess would pay far better than anything she would find as a woman. “Perhaps I should gain some sense and seek a more appropriate position.”
Eyes narrowed, Mrs. Palmer tucked a wayward light brown lock into the cap she wore over her hair. “You’ve told me several times that you’re capable of every single task a secretary to a marquess would need to complete. I don’t even understand everything you said.”
Ellis smiled at Mrs. Palmer, who was very smart. She just hadn’t been offered the same level of education as Ellis, who, since the age of nine had lived in the household of the Duke of Henlow as companion to his daughter. She’d learned alongside Lady Minerva and had taken full advantage—with her own initiative—of His Grace’s libraries, which he maintained at all his properties.
The duke had opened his home to Ellis after the death of her parents, who’d been friends of his. Indeed, her father’s parents and the duke’s parents had been dear friends. The family connection was strong, and he’d felt a responsibility to care for Ellis. He’d also had an affinity for her, which some had interpreted to mean that he was actually her real father—because Ellis had been adopted by the Dangerfields and then taken in by the duke after their deaths.
But the duke was not her father. She’d always known that because he’d told her so, and she believed him. He also didn’t love Ellis the way her parents had done. Even after all this time, the thought of her mother and father and the end of the life she’d enjoyed as a cherished daughter cut sharp and deep. Especially now that she knew the truth of her parentage.
Learning that she was, in fact, illegitimate—though not because of the duke—had completely turned Ellis’s life upside down. She now understood why the duchess had worked so hard to make her feel unworthy. Because she was. In the eyes of Society, Ellis would always be wanting due to the circumstances of her birth. If the truth were to become known.
But it didn’t matter to Ellis. She knew—and knowing meant that everything she’d thought to be true was a lie.
She’d done the only thing that had made sense to her: she’d run from the truth and from the pain of the past seventeen years. Deciding that only she could choose her own path forward, she’d decided to seek independence. Why wait for the worst to happen when she could forge a new life? It was time for her to choose instead of having her story written by those around her who saw her as nothing more than a game piece to move about a board.
She needed this job as secretary to the marquess. And she was going to obtain it. Focusing on the coming interview, she regarded Mrs. Palmer, who was a dozen years older than Ellis’s twenty-six years and an actual widow, unlike Ellis, who was merely pretending to be one. “What if the marquess immediately recognizes I’m a woman?”
“You beg his pardon and leave.” Mrs. Palmer exhaled. “It’s not as if he’ll have you arrested for posing as a man in order to obtain employment at which you would excel and that would pay you enough money to live the life you want.” Her eyes gleamed with determination, as if she were the one embarking on a plan to secure her own future. “The life you deserve.”
“That is kind of you to say.” Ellis was glad for the woman’s support, which buoyed her intent.
She’d come to stay at Mrs. Palmer’s boarding house nearly a fortnight earlier when she’d quit the duke’s household after of her illegitimacy. The duke had offered her money, but she’d only taken what she needed to travel to London from Bath, where she’d been staying with Min and the duchess—she and the duke did not care to reside together when they were not in London—and settle herself with lodgings. Ellis had refused an ongoing allowance. She didn’t want any ties to the duke or his family, and she certainly didn’t want to feel beholden.
The only problem was his daughter. Min was her dearest friend, and Ellis had left without speaking to her. Ellis wasn’t ready to see her and didn’t know when she would be. That was because Min was the reason Ellis had learned the truth.
Thinking of it now caused a tremor in Ellis’s chest. She’d overheard Min fighting with her mother, the duchess. That hadn’t been out of the ordinary, as they often clashed, but this argument had been different. They’d been discussing Ellis, who was, shockingly, also the duchess’s daughter.
To discover the horrid woman who’d treated Ellis like an ungrateful, unwanted servant of the lowest class—no, lower than that—was the woman who’d given her life had been devastating. The duchess loathed Ellis and had gone to great lengths to ensure Ellis had none of the luxuries of her other children, not that material items meant anything to Ellis. She’d only wanted the most precious thing of all—love. Or at least a sense of belonging. How could a woman treat her own flesh and blood so cruelly?
“Stop thinking about your past,” Mrs. Palmer said sternly. Ellis had told her she was hiding from her deceased husband’s terrible family. “You must put that behind you and move forward.”
Ellis smiled. “You sound like me.” Because she’d repeated those words a hundred times or more: leave the past behind and move forward.
“It is good advice after all you’ve been through.”
“Thank you.” Ellis had considered telling Mrs. Palmer the truth, for the desire to have a confidante was great. She was used to having Min by her side. Ellis could have her there again—she need only tell her.
But Ellis couldn’t do that. Not yet. She understood that Min hadn’t been part of the lifelong deception, that she had also been kept from knowing the truth. However, Min’s life, her very identity, hadn’t changed whilst Ellis’s had. She would seek Min out once she was on the path that she’d chosen for herself.
Mrs. Palmer grabbed the hat and gloves from the table by the window and handed them to Ellis. “You should be on your way before you’re late.”
Ellis turned back to the glass and set the hat on her wig, then drew on the gloves.
“Don’t you dare think you won’t be hired,” Mrs. Palmer warned. “I’ve spent far too much time putting together a wardrobe for you from my brothers’ old things.” She had two older brothers and had harvested their old clothing from crates in the attic. What she hadn’t been able to find, she’d somehow acquired in other ways. “I’m still not finished, though I’m close to having a complete set of evening attire, should you need it.”
“I won’t,” Ellis said, thinking this was all a far-fetched dream anyway.
“From now on, until you return here after your interview, you must lower your voice as you’ve practiced and speak as a man.” Mrs. Palmer gave her an encouraging nod.
Ellis pitched her tone to a baritone, or what she hoped was a baritone. Thankfully, she had a deeper voice than most women, so that was already in her favor. “I should have been doing that the entire time. How’s that?”
Mrs. Palmer beamed. “Perfect. Our practice has borne fruit. I shall ensure you won’t encounter anyone.” She left the chamber first, and Ellis followed, pulling the gloves on as they made their way to the stairs.
Leading her down two flights to the ground floor, Mrs. Palmer stayed far enough ahead so she could signal Ellis if she saw anyone, though that was unlikely. There were only two other lodgers, and they were typically gone by this time of the morning.
They hurried through the entrance hall and Mrs. Palmer opened the door to usher her outside. “I’ll be anxious to hear about the interview. I know you’ll do well!”
Ellis smiled at the landlady before embarking on her long walk to Mayfair from Wimpole Street in Marylebone. She dearly hoped she wouldn’t encounter anyone she knew. Thankfully, the Marquess of Keele did not live on the same street or even very near Henlow House. And if she did see someone, they wouldn’t recognize her anyway. Still, she kept her head down until she reached Keele’s house.
She turned onto Bolton Street and approached the marquess’s terrace, surprised at the narrow width. She’d expected something grander, but then she knew Keele, a widower, was rebuilding his family’s fortune. He was a friend of Min’s brother—Lord Shefford or Sheff as everyone called him—though Ellis had never met him. Keele didn’t participate much in Society, but apparently frequented one of the clubs, which was where Sheff saw him on occasion.
The reason behind Keele’s family’s misfortunes was unknown to Ellis, nor did it matter to her except as it pertained to her potential position as his secretary. She certainly wasn’t going to ask.
Her nervousness about the coming interview hadn’t lessened as she’d walked through Mayfair. In fact, it had increased to where her stomach was in knots.
Ellis took a deep breath and approached the door. She tipped her head back to survey the red brick that covered the façade from the first floor up through the fourth. The ground floor was white stone, and a wrought-iron fence kept pedestrians from falling into the servants’ access on the lower ground floor.
As she rapped on the door with her gloved hand, she was struck by the absurdity of what she was doing. Did she really expect to masquerade as a man whilst performing the duties of secretary for a marquess? One would think she’d lost her mind. Perhaps she had. The last several weeks had been the most trying of her life.
A butler opened the door. He was younger than she expected, perhaps in his middle thirties, with thick brown hair and deep-set gray-blue eyes. “Good afternoon. Are you Mr. Ellis?”
When Ellis had responded to Lord Keele’s advertisement, she’d used the name Daniel Ellis. “Yes, I am,” she replied in her deeper, hopefully masculine tone.
The butler inclined his head and invited her inside. “His Lordship is expecting you, of course. This way.” He led her to the rear of the first floor, through the staircase hall.
The door to Lord Keele’s study stood open, and the marquess rose from his desk, which was situated so he had a view of the small back garden. He came toward the door and extended his hand. “Welcome, Mr. Ellis. I’m pleased to meet you.”
Ellis hadn’t practiced shaking hands and hoped she would do so believably. Stepping into the office, she clasped his hand and was surprised at the strength of his grip. She should not have been, for the marquess was tall and powerfully built, with broad shoulders but a narrow waist. He appeared as though he could lift Ellis and hold her over his head. That was saying something, because Ellis was tall for a woman.
Keele released her hand and looked past her to the butler. “Thank you, Graham.”
Ellis heard the door close followed by the muffled retreat of the butler’s footsteps. Her gaze swept the marquess’s study. It wasn’t large, but then his house wasn’t either. Aside from his oak desk, there was a chair near the hearth, a cabinet of drawers, two bookcases, and a second, much smaller desk situated in the corner, adjacent to the marquess’s. The room wasn’t crowded exactly, but it lacked the space and opulence of the Duke of Henlow’s study.
“Let us sit.” The marquess gestured to the chair by the grate. Covered in faded dark blue velvet, Ellis envisioned the marquess sitting there often as he reviewed documents or read an investment scheme.
Reminding herself that the marquess didn’t need to wait for her to sit because he didn’t know she was a woman, Ellis took the chair. Meanwhile, he sat behind his desk and pivoted his chair toward her.
The desk was cluttered, with an overflowing wooden box in one corner and several unkempt stacks of a variety of things that clearly needed to be sorted. The marquess appeared to be in dire need of assistance.
She eyed Keele’s demeanor and copied him, situating herself against the back of the chair and resting one elbow on the arm. She did not worry about keeping her ankles together.
“I was glad to receive your letter,” Keele began. “Your qualifications and education are excellent, but your letter of recommendation from the Duke of Henlow is extraordinary.”
The recommendation from Henlow was the one thing Ellis had asked him for. He’d been eager to provide some kind of assistance and had offered the letter not just to Keele but to anyone else she wanted. “As he no doubt mentioned, my father worked for His Grace’s steward collecting rents,” Ellis said. That was the fib the duke had suggested.
Keele nodded. “He also said you worked for him temporarily when his secretary had to tend to a family matter for a fortnight. Most remarkably, he said your skill was exemplary and was tempted to replace his current secretary with you.” The marquess possessed razor-sharp steel-gray eyes and a hawk-like nose that made him appear almost predatory. Indeed, the way he was regarding Ellis presently sparked the sensation that she was his prey.
She shifted her weight and again resisted the urge to cross her ankles. Sitting like this, without a skirt to cover her legs, made her feel incredibly vulnerable. Or perhaps it was more due to the intensity of his stare. Did he suspect she was not who she claimed to be? Did he doubt the duke’s recommendation? Whilst Henlow had lied about how he knew her, the letter had been drafted by him without any contribution from her.
“That was kind of him to say,” Ellis murmured. Too late, she realized such mild vocalization was likely too feminine. Men didn’t murmur. They claimed space with their bodies, their actions, and their voices. “I enjoyed working for His Grace,” she added in a stronger tone.
“As it happens, I know the duke’s son very well. The Earl of Shefford is a friend of mine. Did you have occasion to meet him?”
Ellis was prepared for this question since she knew Keele and Sheff were friends. And Sheff was not aware of what she was doing. She preferred to have no contact at all with that family right now, except for the favor she’d requested of the duke. “I did not. I didn’t meet anyone in the household.”
“The duke mentioned you are excellent at shorthand,” Keele noted. “I wonder if you might demonstrate?”
Henlow had asked for specific information about Ellis’s skills so he could include them in his recommendation. Ellis inclined her head in an authoritative manner, as a man would. “Certainly.”
“You may sit at the secretary’s desk there in the corner.” Keele gestured to a small kneehole desk, the side of which nearly butted up to his.
Ellis stood, and as she drew closer to the desk, noted it was rather scuffed. Also, one of the drawers did not sit squarely. The chair was in similar condition and did not possess quite the same finish. They were not a matched set.
There was foolscap as well as a goose quill and an inkwell along with other writing implements. Thankfully, there was also a pencil, which was much more suited to shorthand. Ellis plucked up the pencil and poised her hand above the paper. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Keele stood and moved to his desk. He did not sit as he dictated a letter to his banker.
As he neared the end of the missive, Keele approached the secretary’s desk. He stood over Ellis and looked down at her shorthand. She was keenly aware of his proximity and his interest. She didn’t care for either. It made her feel scrutinized, which of course was the point of this interview. Still, she didn’t like the sensation of being so intensely watched and judged.
When he was done, she tipped her head up and back to look at him. “Do you read shorthand?”
“A little, but not well enough to make sense of it. Yours seems very good, but I suppose the test is in the transcription. Please write the letter out now. I’ll just work at my desk.” He gave her a brief smile that made him look less like a hunter, then returned to sit behind his desk. His focus immediately turned to the papers before him.
Ellis watched him for a moment, thinking how scandalous it was for her to be in this office—with the door closed—alone with the Marquess of Keele. Instead of feeling anxious, she suppressed a laugh. She didn’t give a fig about preserving her reputation as a woman, as she had no need of it. She only needed to establish her skill and worth as a male secretary.
Setting her mind to the task, Ellis wrote out the letter using the shorthand she’d taken. Satisfied she’d done a good job, she dusted the ink with the wooden sand shaker.
“Finished?” Keele asked, indicating that whilst he’d seemed engrossed in his task, he’d been listening, at least somewhat, to Ellis work.
“Yes.” She was going to stand, but he extended his hand, and if she did the same, she realized, she only had to rise a short distance from the seat of her chair to present him with the letter.
Keele’s gaze moved over the paper quickly. He appeared to be a fast reader. “Well done.” He lifted his focus to her. “I hope you won’t take offense, but your handwriting is quite nice. It’s almost, dare I say, feminine.”
Ellis’s pulse started to pound. She’d worried about her handwriting and had taken pains to write less…pretty. It was too difficult, however, to completely change the way she wrote. So, she’d come up with an explanation. “I have four older sisters. I’m afraid their influence was rather heavy.”
“Ah, I can only imagine what four older sisters might make their younger brother do.” Keele’s eyes glinted with amusement. “I do not have any siblings, so I was mercifully spared such torture. Though, one could argue I was also bereft of familial support.” He said this in a purely matter-of-fact tone so that Ellis couldn’t tell if he agreed with that sentiment or not.
Keele handed the letter back to her. “This is excellent. Prepare it for the Two Penny, and I’ll have a footman take it.”
“When I depart, I’d be happy to drop it at a receiving house, if you’d care to entrust me with the task,” Ellis offered.
“I would, thank you.” He gave her a slight nod as she set the paper on her desk. “Pre-paid. You may take the funds from the box in the top right drawer of the desk there. There is a notebook in which you’ll record the withdrawal.”
Ellis eyed the mess on his desk and the contents of the box that were spilling over the sides. “Is there anything I can do to help with organizing things for you?”
He sent her a sheepish look, but it was so brief that she doubted what she’d seen. “That would certainly demonstrate more of your skills.” Keele scooped up several things and stood. He moved around his desk to deposit the pile on hers. “If you can sort through that, I’d be grateful.”
“Do you have a preference for how it’s organized?” she asked as she sat back down.
“Er, no.” He appeared nonplussed before turning his attention back to the report—or whatever it was—that he was reading.
Ellis began reviewing what he’d given her. She set them in neat stacks—the household ledger, unpaid bills, and correspondence. The correspondence she further sorted into household and estate, social, and that which related to Lacey and Company Press. There were quite a few missives to do with the latter, and she wondered about Keele’s business with the enterprise.
Once she’d separated everything, she did not start with the Lacey and Company correspondence, though that seemed the most interesting. Ellis had a habit of saving the tasks she liked best for last. Instead, she pulled the unpaid bills toward her and reviewed each one. When she was finished, she made notes on a piece of foolscap and put it atop the bills.
Taking the household ledger next, she reviewed the contents and observed how the bills were recorded. There had been no entries for over a month, and she’d noticed that a few of the bills were past when they ought to have been paid. She tucked the ledger beneath the stack of unpaid bills, then moved on to the correspondence, starting with the stack regarding Lacey and Company.
“You’ve sorted through that already?” He stared, appearing awestruck, at the tidy stacks across the top of her desk with an expression of amazement.
“Yes.” She picked up the bills with the note. “There are several unpaid bills that ought to be settled as soon as possible.” She wondered if he wasn’t able to and glanced away awkwardly. “I also found an error on one of them and drafted a note to the merchant that could be enclosed with the payment, the amount of which I adjusted to correct the mistake. I’ve summarized everything here.” She held up the paper she’d put with the bills.
He blinked at her, his expression showing disbelief. “You did all that?”
“You doubt me?” Ellis couldn’t help feeling a bit perturbed.
“No. I’m just…aghast. You work very quickly.” He held out his hand. “May I see your note?”
“Of course.” She also handed him the bills. “You can check my work if you like.”
“I’m not sure I need to,” he said quietly. It wasn’t quite a murmur, but it was close.
Still, he flipped through the stack, stopping to read her note of correction to the fishmonger. Finishing, he exhaled and set everything down, then clasped his hands atop the pile. “I would like to hire you to start immediately, if you are able. However, there is one requirement to which you may not wish to agree. Whilst I am most eager to employ you, I’m afraid this point is non-negotiable.”
Ellis frowned slightly, curious about the seriousness of his tone. “What is that?”
“As you can see, there is much to fix here. My last secretary drank too much, apparently, and created a rather large mess. I’m afraid you’ve only glimpsed a fraction of it.” He grimaced. “I need my new secretary to reside here and be available to work every day, including Sundays. I will grant time off for church and any other necessary appointments, plus a half day off each week for respite. I would prefer this isn’t always the same day, but that we agree upon which day it will be the following week. If that is acceptable to you, I’m offering one hundred guineas per annum paid quarterly. Plus, room and board, of course.”
He wanted her to live here. That would mean maintaining this disguise far longer than she’d anticipated. She could only be Ellis in her chamber wherever that might be. And if she needed to be Ellis anywhere else, she’d have to leave the house as Daniel Ellis and change into her real self. How would she manage that?
For a hundred guineas, plus lodging and food, she would find a way. This would allow her to save much more quickly than she’d anticipated.
“Where would my room be located?” She dearly hoped it would be as far away from the main parts of the house as possible.
“On the first floor,” he replied. “There’s a bedchamber meant for guests. It should be sufficient for your needs.”
Ellis wondered where Keele’s bedchamber was located but wasn’t going to ask. “Is there a desk? I’d like to be able to work there, if possible.” That way she could have some relief from her disguise. Bathing would be a challenge, but hopefully the servants had a bathing chamber for their use. But how on earth would she wash her hair, then hide it as she returned to her room?
“I’ll make sure there’s a desk.” His brow creased slightly. “Though, I prefer you work down here during the day—either at this desk when we’re working together or at the desk in the front sitting room if I have meetings in here.”
“Understood,” she said gruffly, hoping she looked and sounded masculine. She needed to behave in that fashion as much as possible so that it became second-nature. Her femininity, indeed, her entire true self, must be hidden for the foreseeable future. Ellis didn’t mind that. Being her true self had been rather awful of late. In fact, she wasn’t at all sure who her “true” self was.
“May I ask about Lacey and Company?” Immediately, Ellis wanted to take back the question. Of course she could ask—she was now his employee. Actually, she hadn’t officially agreed to the position. “I should say that I am pleased to accept your offer of employment, and your requirements are satisfactory to me.” She would miss living at Mrs. Palmer’s house.
“I’m both relieved and pleased, Mr. Ellis. I’m confident you will be an excellent addition to the household. And please understand that once things are better organized, you are free to take other lodgings. Though, you can stay here as long as you like.” The marquess gave her an expectant look. “I don’t suppose you can start working now and move in tomorrow?”
“I can, in fact.” Ellis bit back a delighted smile. She had a job!
“Splendid,” Keele said. “As for Lacey and Company, that is my father-in-law’s company, in which I own a stake. He owns several subscription libraries and is a publisher.”
“Of course,” Ellis said, feeling a bit foolish. “I’ve been to Lacey’s Library here in London.”
“You have a subscription?” Keele seemed surprised, which he should be. Someone like Daniel Ellis would not have a subscription to Lacey’s. The companion to the daughter of a duchess, however, would.
“I mean, I’ve been by it,” she amended. “I’ve seen it.”
“Well, you’ve no need for a subscription now. You may read any of the books you like. I have many of them in my library upstairs.”
“You’ve a library?” Ellis was surprised, given the size of the house.
“I suppose it’s really the drawing room, but since I do not entertain, I’ve no need for such a space.” He shrugged. “It’s far more useful as a library.”
Nothing he could have said would have been more appealing to her. Books were her absolute favorite thing, and his preference for not hosting social events would make her disguise that much easier to maintain. She needn’t worry about having to meet anyone she knew.
Ellis was quite glad she’d taken on the risk of living here. “I appreciate the invitation to use your library, my lord.”
“Since you’ve a keen interest in books, perhaps I’ll ask your opinion on some of the novels submitted to Lacey and Company.”
“I’m not sure I possess the necessary knowledge and experience to make such judgments,” Ellis said diplomatically, though the idea of assessing whether people might enjoy a book sounded rather appealing.
“If you are an avid reader, then you have precisely the knowledge and experience,” Keele said. “Give me a few minutes to finish what I’m reading, and I’ll review the Lacey and Company correspondence with you. I doubt it will take you long to grasp the nature of that business.” He smiled. “I’m glad you accepted the position, Mr. Ellis. I anticipate a long and mutually satisfying association.”
Ellis couldn’t help smiling, for she was so very relieved—and excited, actually. This job wasn’t just what she needed. It was precisely what she wanted. “I hope so.”
Keele’s gaze narrowed slightly, and he seemed to focus on her mouth. Ellis froze, hoping she hadn’t done or said something wrong. Or worse, that he’d somehow recognized that she was a woman.
He dropped his focus to the report on his desk and returned to reading. Ellis exhaled. In that moment, she decided it might be best if she didn’t smile.
Return to Since the Marquess Demands
