Mistletoe and Mayhem: A Regency Holiday Romance Anthology, page 57
“Yes, my lady.” The young woman moved behind Bess to release the apron ties. “I am pleased to be useful.”
“You are a godsend.” Bess’s smile was soft when she spoke to the servant. All traces of kindness were replaced with cool detachment when she looked at Julius. “Let’s retire to the library. Gemma is occupying the drawing room.”
She swept past him, expecting him to follow. With quick, efficient steps, she navigated the corridors; he adopted a more leisurely pace. It allowed him to study her while sending a message he was not amenable to being led nor handled by anyone. His will was strong, his path determined. She needed to know what she was getting into if their lives were forever entwined. He hoped being clear now would eliminate any conflict between them in the future.
The furniture in the library was covered in sheets. She whipped one off a chair and gestured toward it. “Sit.”
“I’m not a circus dog.”
“Should I not retrieve the flaming hoops then?”
He chuckled; his defensiveness evaporated without any conscious effort on his part. “You continue to surprise me, Bess. I like that quality in a woman.”
“Possibly one other person shares your opinion.”
He shrugged. “I don’t require validation from others."
“What a rare bird you are.” Her smile seemed to be given begrudgingly. “If you would like to have a seat, please be my guest.”
She remained standing, so he did as well. The circumstances of their unconventional meeting last night might have given her the wrong impression. Julius was a well-bred gentleman, from the top of his head to the tips of his Wellies.
He aimed a frown at his shiny boots. “These were caked in mud last night. Did you polish them?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She crossed her arms and leaned her shoulder against the end of a bookshelf. “Robbie cleaned them for you.”
The servant boy who’d attended him earlier. Julius ran his fingertips over the covered furniture as he sauntered toward the bookshelf where she stood. “What is going on at Davensworth Cottage? Why did I find you washing dishes?”
Bess sighed. “Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t share my cousin’s plight, but I don’t see how we will hide it. The butler resigned after my uncle’s death and took most of the male staff with him. He thought it was beneath him to be employed by an unmarried lady. He believed the estate should have gone to a male relative, no doubt one of my irresponsible half-brothers.”
“It was none of the manservant’s concern,” he said, “as long as his salary continued.”
Her eyes widened as if he was capable of surprising her as well. “My thoughts exactly, Julius.”
To hear his name fall nonchalantly from her lips did something strange to his insides. His initial reaction was pleasure, but dread followed closely on its heels. If he broached the topic of their night together, would they quarrel again? He didn’t have the stamina for another round before breakfast.
“In the end, it is for the best.”
Julius realized she was still talking and tried to focus.
“Gemma will require a loyal man under the roof.”
“Er, a man?”
“A butler to hire footmen,” she said. “A house this size requires adequate staff. ”
“This explains the lack of male staff, but not the reason you were elbows deep in dish water.”
“I suppose it doesn’t.” She caught one side of her lip between pearly teeth as if measuring her words before speaking. “Davensworth Cottage had more than its fair share of tragedy last year. After the butler resigned, the housekeeper took charge. She did a fine job of running the household, but a month later, she died suddenly.
“The rest of the servants abandoned Gemma afterward. Only the housekeeper’s children remained, and neither Anne or Robbie have much experience. I insisted Gemma bring them when she came to stay with me. The poor dears had their own grieving to do, and who would look after them if they stayed behind?”
Beneath her steely exterior, a kind heart resided. The image of her gazing up at him with concern crinkling her brow flashed through his memory. Something about a nightshirt? It evaporated like mist rising from the pastures at sunrise, but the warmth of the moment lingered.
“Had I anticipated Gemma's wish to be home by Christmas,” she said, “I would have sought candidates earlier. It is her first year without her father, so I anticipate it will be difficult. It would have been better to have the house ready for her return, and you were right about the greenery.”
“Pardon?”
“Last night you commented on the lack of greenery and holiday cheer.” She glanced around the room, shaking her head. “There is much to do before Christmas.”
He smiled ruefully. “I was a regular magpie, and I cannot recall most of what I said.”
“Yes, well…” She dropped her gaze to the floor and toyed with her earlobe as a becoming blush lent color to her cheeks. “While you are a guest, I ask for your patience with the slower service. We are doing our best under the circumstances.”
“I understand and promise not to impose upon your cousin’s hospitality beyond requesting the use of a horse from her stables. I’ll see it is properly cared for and returned. Before I take my leave, however, we should have a conversation.”
“Do you not know, my lord? An ice storm came in the night. You are stranded at Davensworth Cottage.”
“Oh!” An unexpected development, but perhaps it would work for the best. He hadn’t favored a rushed discussion, and any decisions affecting their future association shouldn’t be made in haste.
“Blast,” he muttered to himself. “There will be no way to send a message to Everly Manor.”
“Will your family be worried for you?”
“Worried, no, but my brother will miss my protection.”
When Bess's eyebrows arched, he explained about his parents’ house party and how most of the guests thought it was a ploy to find a bride for Clive.
“Would it be horrible if everyone was right?” she asked.
“Are you suggesting our parents have started a new holiday tradition?” He chuckled. “Some families light the yule candle. The Marquess and Marchioness of Seabrook gift their children with spouses.”
Bess pushed away from the bookshelf. “You are hardly a child, Julius, and neither is your brother. He is the heir, is he not? It is right for your parents to steer him toward an acceptable spouse. Now, if you will excuse me, I have much to do.”
A small frown played across her lips when she snatched the edge of a sheet and whipped it from a sturdy table with thick legs. Julius had witnessed a magician perform a trick once at a house party. The table had been laden with food, dainty crystal goblets, and precious bone china with gilded rims.
When the man jerked the table cloth, the hostess screamed, but nothing on the table was disturbed. Every plate, every fork and knife, every piece of glassware stayed in place. Applause had erupted in the room, and conversations were forgotten. The magician was skilled at using distraction and performing sleight of hand tricks.
Julius couldn’t help wondering if Bess was doing the same. Whether she was distracting herself or him, he couldn’t decide. Perhaps it was best not to draw attention to her tactic now. After all, he would be at Davensworth Cottage until the ice melted or a heavy snowfall made it safe to take a horse from the stables. They would have time later to discuss their future association, if there was to be one. Perhaps they could get to know each other in the meantime.
He picked up the discarded sheet she’d removed from the chair.
“What are you doing?” Displeasure was clear in her tone.
“Helping. You said there aren’t enough servants.”
“You are a guest, my lord.” With an exasperated exhale, she plopped the folded sheet on the table and marched forward to snatch the other from his hands. “Breakfast will be served in the breakfast room. Shall I ring for Robbie to show you the way?”
His temper flared, but he controlled the burn. He was not an idle man, nor was he agreeable to being told what he could and couldn’t do, but she would learn that about him soon enough. “Thank you, but I can find it on my own.”
Chapter Five
Instead of seeking out the breakfast room, Julius headed toward the kitchen, passed the butler’s pantry with a dusty desk and dull silver bells mounted to the wall, and eventually stumbled across the servants’ dining hall. The young women from earlier and the sole male servant were seated at one end of a long table better suited for a staff of twenty. Two extra places were set with plates and silverware, but the chairs were empty.
Robbie noticed his intrusion first and sprang to his feet. “Sir!”
The females followed suit. All three of them could boast posture to make an etiquette instructor proud. The senior servant lowered her head in deference. “My lord, we didn’t hear you ring.”
“Step lively, Rob.” The late housekeeper’s daughter snapped her fingers. “Show Lord Julius to the breakfast room.”
Julius waved them back to their seats. “Finish your meal.” When they appeared reluctant, he infused his tone with authority. “I insist. Eat.”
The servants exchanged confused looks before sitting.
“Please forgive my interruption,” Julius said, remaining in the threshold so as not to spook them. Members of his class could be terrible brutes to those they deemed beneath them, but Julius had never been one to puff up like a rooster and peck at the help. “I realize it must be awkward to have a stranger in your midst, never mind that I have ventured into your domain.”
“Not at all, my lord.” The elder servant couldn’t meet his eyes when she uttered the lie.
“I believe Lady Hadley referred to you as Quinn?”
Her face turned bright red. “Yes, my lord. Felicity Quinn. I am Lady Hadley’s maid.”
Her answer surprised him. A lady’s maid did not engage in kitchen duties. All the cottage occupants were lending a hand, which solidified his decision. He gestured to one of the empty plates. “May I?”
The youngsters stared at him with wide eyes. Quinn answered in the affirmative. He stood at the table to fill his plate with bacon and bread, and gathered the silverware.
“I’ll not make a nuisance of myself any longer. Which direction is the breakfast room?”
“Up the staircase and to the left,” Anne said. “Are you certain you do not want Robbie to show you?”
“I am, miss.” He walked into the corridor and swiveled on his heel to face them again. “By-the-by, I intend to make myself useful while staying at Davensworth Cottage. If Lady Hadley can learn to wash dishes, I imagine I am not a hopeless cause. Robbie, please come find me once you have eaten your fill.”
Bess jerked to a stop at the top of the stairs. Air whooshed from her lungs as if she collided with a wall. Coming up the flight with an armful of split logs was none other than Lord Julius. He practically bounded up the stairs as if he carried a load of feathers. In a large house, avoiding him should have been an easy task, yet here he was again underfoot.
“Good day, Lady Hadley.”
His chipper greeting eased the tightness in her chest. Perhaps he was the jovial type who would have a good laugh when she admitted to fooling him, although it might be at her expense. She didn’t mind being the butt of a joke, but what if she was wrong about his forgiving nature? Surely he wouldn’t hold Gemma accountable. Bess would impress upon him that her cousin played no part in the pretense, just as soon as she screwed up enough courage to tell him.
He stopped on the top step. His brown hair was damp at his temples, dark and glistening like a raven’s wings.
“We meet again, my lord.”
“Always a pleasure.” A devilish twinkle in his eyes caused her insides to quiver with excitement. “I expect we’ll see a lot of each other over the next few days.”
And that was the problem—seeing too much of him. He’d discarded his jacket and waistcoat since their last encounter, and the translucent fabric of his shirt did nothing to hide the definition of his flexed biceps. It was challenging not to ogle. Had she not seen much more of his impressive figure on two previous occasions, the sight of him in his shirtsleeves would have come as a shock. She was beyond being scandalized, but she wasn’t immune to him.
Fanning her face to cool her overheated skin, she said, “I thought we established you are a guest at Davensworth Cottage. Why are you performing a servant’s duties?”
He tipped his head. “Your cheeks are flushed. Are you overtaxing yourself?”
“No, not in the least.” She dropped her hands at her sides, embarrassed he had noticed her involuntary reaction.
He narrowed his eyes. The intensity of his inspection made her self-conscious. She reached for her earlobe. “Mm-hmm,” he muttered. “Have you stopped working since you woke?”
She inhaled slowly to calm her churning breath. One quick shake of her head acknowledged she had not.
“I’d wager you haven’t had a morsel of food either.” His thick brows were like stern slashes hovering low over his eyes. “There is no harm in having a lie down.” His harping should have irritated her, but his concern for her wellbeing was touching, albeit unnecessary.
“I don’t need a rest, my lord, and you are a guest. You shouldn’t be performing manual labor.”
A dimpled grin transformed his face in a flash. “Should I leave it to the mice to do?"
He was teasing again, so she took no offense. “The troubles at Davensworth Cottage are temporary,” she said. “We cannot risk having it known you were asked to perform chores. Additionally, we are vermin free.”
“No mice? All the more reason you need my help, I say. Besides, I volunteered my services.”
“Out of necessity. Do you know how that sounds? Gemma’s reputation—”
“You needn’t worry about Miss Price losing her social standing. What happens under this roof does not concern the neighbors.”
With a sigh, she met his gaze head on. She’d always read people through their eyes, assessed their intentions, ascertained the truth in their hearts. Julius’s hazel eyes were open windows, warm and shining with sincerity. A large chunk of the wall she’d erected to protect herself crumbled. Like it or not, she needed help if there was any hope of restoring order to the house before Christmas.
“Very well, I accept.”
“Splendid.” Julius adjusted the logs in his arms. “I wouldn’t enjoy tying you to a chair to force you to slow down, despite your belief to the contrary."
A fresh wave of heat swept over her. She’d been cheeky earlier, accusing him of plans to tie up his future wife.
“Heavens, I’m in your way.” She stepped aside to allow him to pass. “Your load must be heavy.”
“A little, but I don’t mind.”
He paused at the landing and studied the end of the corridor. The house was a maze of passageways. Throughout the years, new additions had been tacked on to the original house in a haphazard manner. Bess liked the unpredictability of not knowing what was around the next corner, although it made navigation difficult.
“May I help you find something?” she asked.
“Robbie said I should replenish the supply in Miss Price’s chambers, but I’ve forgotten his directions.”
She laughed. “Is Robbie giving the orders now?”
“I insisted.” Julius’s wide grin was a testament to his good nature. “Have you seen the lad split wood?”
She shook her head.
“Neither have I.” He cocked an eyebrow. “But he gave a good effort before I took the ax away. It’s a wonder he hasn’t lost a foot.”
“Well, thank you for intervening.”
Lord Julius had been splitting firewood, which explained his disheveled appearance. Of course, it hadn’t occurred to a man of his station to use the servant staircase to carry the logs above stairs.
“Come with me,” she said. “I’ll show you the way.”
After the firewood was delivered to her cousin’s chambers, he smacked his hands together to clear the dust and debris. “What shall I do now? I am your humble servant.”
She considered sending him back to Robbie for orders, but decided it was the coward’s way. Eventually, she must tell the truth about last night and face the consequences.
“The drawing room hasn’t been touched,” she said.
“Lead the way."
She and Lord Julius settled into a comfortable partnership and worked side-by-side into the afternoon. His assistance made the work less grueling, but Bess was still exhausted when they stopped to take tea. It would have been the perfect time to clear the air, but Gemma joined them a few moments before Robbie arrived with the tea cart. Gemma, who’d been helping Anne polish the silver and organize the butler’s panty, looked as wilted as Bess felt.
“I noticed a pianoforte in the drawing room,” Julius said. “Do either of you play?”
Gemma nodded.
“Me, too.” Bess wrinkled her nose. “But I have no talent, much to my mother’s chagrin. She is my stepmother, actually. She married my father when I was very young.”
Julius dipped a sliver of sugar in his tea. “Evil or good?”
“Pardon?”
“Your stepmother. Was she evil or good? I’ve heard tales.”
“She was kind, but stricter with me than she was with her own children.” Bess shrugged. “It might have something to do with them being boys. Males tend to be given more leeway.”
“Not in my family,” Julius said. “Our mother treats all of us the same. She refers to us as her minions.”
Bess laughed. “The marchioness has a sense of humor, I see.”
“I don’t think she is joking.” The twinkle in his eyes said he was, though. “I learned to play the pianoforte. It was meant as a punishment for interrupting my older sister while she practiced. I enjoyed the lessons. I continued them longer than Mercedes.”
“You played for the annual Christmas pageant one year,” Gemma said. “You were marvelous.”
