The Problem with Josephine. Lucy Ashford

folded his arms, and leaned his wide shoulders back against a gilded pillar that was crowned by a marble bust of Napoleon. Bother Napoleon, Sophie thought in a sudden outburst of fury, bother him!

      ‘An offer I can resist, believe me.’

      ‘Oh.’ Her disappointment made her almost crumple.

      Then he shrugged, an easy, lithe movement that somehow made her heart do a strange little flutter. ‘But I’ll make a suggestion, shall I? I’ll tell you what my fee will be. But only when you’ve told me exactly what you require me to do.’

      She bit her lip. ‘I’ve told you. I have so little money, I cannot pay you more!’

      ‘Who said it would be money, mam’selle?’ he drawled. ‘Indeed, all it will cost you is a few minutes of your time, believe me.’

      Her mind reeled. Whatever it was, she had to accept. She was desperate.

      ‘My task?’ he prompted gently.

      She moistened her dry lips and met his eyes directly, almost proudly. He liked that.