“Well, you succeeded. My mother is insufferable when she feels she has been justified in a decision, and she was particularly annoying this morning.” Lord Caxton looked thoughtfully at her again. “A most unusual color. Violet, perhaps?”
Theodora blinked. “What?”
“Your eyes. When I saw you on the road, I wondered what color they were.”
Theodora had no idea what to say. To her great relief, after a moment he broke contact and gave her a shallow bow.
“Welcome to Longley Hall, Mrs. Milsom,” he said, and took his leave.
As she stared after him, she noticed Miss Dove simpering in the hall. The lady’s maid greeted Lord Caxton, bosom prominent, as he left the kitchen. She didn’t see Lord Caxton’s reaction to the display, but Miss Dove gave Theodora an oddly triumphant look as she flounced past the doorway.
Theodora sank into her chair and exhaled a breath she had not realized she’d been holding. Her eyes?
****
Jonathan ignored his mother’s lady’s maid, who lately seemed to thrust her bosom at him every time he turned the corner. Feeling the need for some exercise after the filling breakfast, he strolled out to the stables. He helped the groom saddle his horse, not because the boy needed the help, but because Jonathan enjoyed it.
He mounted and headed for his favorite spot, the place he always sought when he wanted to think without the interference of his family. It was not far from the house, but for reasons he could never quite fathom, he seemed to be the only member of his family who ever went there. Nestled in a copse of trees, the land gently sloped down to the river. He had a perfect view of the spires of the cathedral, with the castle just beyond. He liked to sit beneath the trees and remember his university days, or puzzle out a problem on the estate, draw in his sketch book, or just lie back and watch the clouds overhead. He supposed, as he dismounted and tied his horse’s reins to a low-hanging branch, that some would call him fanciful. His mother, with her love of all things whimsical, would be delighted to learn he spent idle hours finding patterns in the clouds.
Today, however, he sat beneath a tree and turned his thoughts to the mysterious new cook. His mother had not been wrong; she was without doubt the skinniest cook he’d ever seen, but clearly one of the most talented. Nevertheless, he could not shake the feeling that all was not as it seemed. The story she had given the butler was odd, and no matter what his mother said, cooks did not abandon their places in the middle of the night and travel across the country with no notice.
He was unusually interested in this matter, but he wasn’t sure why. He trusted his mother implicitly when it came to the running of their household. The new cook was simply a cook, and they’d had half a dozen of them in the past eight months—even genuine references didn’t guarantee a decent cook. She was a fine cook, regardless of who wrote her references, so did it really matter if she were hiding something?
If he were truly being honest with himself, he would admit the woman intrigued him, not just her circumstances, whatever they might be. From the first moment he saw her on the road, bedraggled and wet, he wanted to know her.
He leaned back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes. He tried to push her from his thoughts, but she stubbornly refused to leave.
Chapter Eight
At about ten o’clock, Theodora was summoned to Lady Longley’s sitting room. Rossie was kind enough to show the way. She entered a lovely room, decorated in warm tones and with far less bric-a-brac than was currently fashionable. The countess was seated at a little writing desk by the window overlooking the extensive gardens and turned as Theodora entered. She smiled and gestured for Theodora to sit in a chair next to the desk.
“Good morning, Mrs. Milsom.”
“Good morning, my lady. I hope you are well?” Theodora primly placed her hands in her lap.
“Yes, indeed, and very well fed, too. I must tell you”—her ladyship leaned closer—“my husband is so delighted by your cooking that I am a bit jealous of you.”
Theodora’s eyes widened. “Certainly not!”
“Oh, dear, I’ve shocked you.” The countess chuckled. “I was joking, Mrs. Milsom. At least about the jealousy part; he really was delighted with the food.” She sobered for a moment and leaned back in her chair to study Theodora. “I get the impression that you aren’t accustomed to much levity, is that true?”
Theodora swallowed hard. “No, my lady.”
Lady Longley sighed. “I am sorry to hear that. You will soon grow accustomed to our ways, I’m sure.” She patted Theodora’s hand in a maternal gesture that made Theodora blink away an unshed tear, so much did it remind her of her mother.
“Now then, about the menus,” the countess said briskly. “I will tell you what our likes and dislikes are, and how many we are likely to be for dinner, but beyond that I tend to give my cook a free hand with meals, except when one of us has a particular preference or we have guests. Is that acceptable to you, or do you prefer more guidance?”
Theodora was a bit surprised. Most titled ladies preferred to order their cooks around and tell them what to serve, but she was quickly learning this house seemed to live by its own rules. She nodded, although she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. A certain amount of guidance might have been welcome. “That will be fine, my lady.”
“Very good. Some of our previous cooks felt it very confusing to have to come up with their own menus. The last, Mrs. Brown...” Lady Longley shuddered, as if suddenly remembering something very unpleasant. “Well, let us not speak of her. You are here now, after all, and that is all that matters.”
Theodora smiled uncertainly but forged ahead. “If it pleases you, my lady, I was planning a roast fowl with watercress, cold veal and salad, and a cherry tart for luncheon. I thought a julienne soup, crimped salmon, croquettes à la reine, roast lamb, and raspberry cream for dinner.”
The countess grinned like a schoolgirl and wriggled with delight. “I cannot possibly convey how wonderful that sounds, Mrs. Milsom. We luncheon at one o’clock and have our evening meal at eight. My daughter and I like to take tea in here or in the parlor at half past four. For being a terrible cook, Mrs. Appleton is a most excellent baker, so there will be no need for you to prepare pastries, unless you wish to do so.” An odd expression flit across her ladyship’s face so quickly Theodora thought she might have imagined it. A funny little smile, like she was keeping a secret.
Theodora blinked and nodded. “Very good, my lady. I am an adequate baker, but I am much more comfortable with cooking.” She stood, gave a quick curtsy, and was on her way out the door when she was nearly run over by a girl in an astonishingly wide skirt. Bumped nearly into the wall, she put a hand back to keep herself upright, but the girl went down in a heap.
Lady Longley rushed over in her own massive crinoline and attempted to bend down to help the girl to her feet, but she was unable to move in such a direction. The two of them started laughing, and Theodora just stared.
“Julia, dear, when will you ever learn not to run full tilt through the house, especially in crinolines? You’ll knock someone down the stairs one day!” The countess laughed again and turned to face Theodora. “Mrs. Milsom, I do apologize. This is my daughter, Julia. I fear she has more energy than sense.”
Lady Julia stopped laughing to glare at her mother, but breeding apparently won out over teenage rebellion, and she said politely from the middle of her heap of fabric, “My apologies, Mrs. Milsom. I hope you are unharmed?”
“Yes, of course.” Theodora tried not to laugh. The very proper question coming from the tiny girl on the floor surrounded by yards of silk and wire, her ankles exposed, was undeniably funny. “Um, may I assist you, my lady?” She held out a hand to the girl.
“That would be brilliant, thank you.” Lady Julia grasped the outstretched hand, and with her mother’s assistance, managed to get back on her feet. The impact of the crash had bent her crinoline, so she appeared rather lopsided.
A very m
ale guffaw boomed through the doorway. “When will ladies learn not to wear such ridiculous garments? You look like a ship that’s run aground!” Lord Caxton bent over at the waist, laughing hysterically.
His sister glared at him, but he blocked the door so she couldn’t get out of the room. Theodora looked at the countess, who was trying very hard to remain sober, but it was clearly too much. She burst into laughter, and Theodora could no longer help herself. She snorted in a most unladylike fashion and immediately put her hand to her mouth to hide a giggle.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Julia,” the countess said, tears streaming down her face, “but your brother is right!”
“Mother,” Lady Julia said, very seriously, “you are being ridiculous, and in front of our new cook, too. Whatever must she think of us?”
The countess struggled mightily to regain her composure. “I caught the barest hint of a chuckle from our very serious cook, so I suspect she thought you a silly girl who will never learn to behave as a young lady should.”
Theodora was appalled. “No, my lady, I would never...”
Lady Longley put up a hand, a graceful index finger extended. “Shh, Mrs. Milsom, I am sure that is exactly what you thought, and quite right, too.” She winked, and Theodora’s eyes widened. “Come along, Julia, and I will try to fix the damage to your crinoline, although I am beginning to agree with Jonathan that they are very silly things indeed.” She grabbed Lady Julia by the elbow and steered her toward the door. “Mrs. Milsom, would you please ask Florrie to come to Lady Julia’s room? Jon, do get out of the way. You may be astute in your fashion sense, but you are not helping.”
****
The viscount was still chuckling, but he gallantly backed out of the way as his mother and sister strode past. His eyes twinkling, he stepped into the doorway and blocked Theodora’s exit.
“So, Mrs. Milsom, did you think my sister a silly girl who will never learn to behave?”
“Certainly not, my lord.” Theodora was not certain where her courage was coming from, but she felt compelled to defend herself, and, oddly, Lady Julia. She straightened to her full height and looked Lord Caxton in the eye. “She is a spirited girl, that’s all.”
“Hmm,” he said, regarding her closely. “You are a curious creature, Mrs. Milsom. You curtsy and speak like a gentlewoman. In appearance you seem as meek as any scullery maid, and yet you clearly have no trouble putting me in my place.”
Theodora looked away. She was going to get herself dismissed if she kept this up.
He put a single, long finger under her chin and tilted her head to look at him. “You are quite unlike any cook I have ever met.” His gaze traveled down her body, lingering, or so it seemed to Theodora, on her modest breasts and slender hips. She wanted to squirm but found herself glued to the spot.
“Undoubtedly the skinniest,” he mused. “Rather unlike any woman I have ever met, if truth be told. I am intrigued by you, against my better judgment.” He crooked his finger and pulled her face closer to his own, until his lips were only an inch from hers.
Theodora felt herself being drawn in, could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. She resisted the lure of him and pulled away. He moved close again and reached for her waist. Theodora’s vision clouded with panic, and she barely stifled a scream. She ducked around him and ran from the room before he could react. She heard him call out to her as she ran, but she was up the stairs in a moment.
She raced down the corridor, only to realize she had no idea where she was. She slumped against the wall and slid down it until she huddled on the floor, her back against the wall, her arms around her legs. She pressed her head against her knees and tried unsuccessfully not to cry. For having managed to avoid tears for so long, she was a regular watering pot now that she was away from Lucien.
“Mrs. Milsom? Are you unwell, lass?”
Theodora’s head popped up at the sound of Mr. Fairfax’s voice. She wiped her eyes with her hand and sniffled. What a mess she was.
Mr. Fairfax knelt and held a handkerchief in front of her, and she nodded her thanks. She wiped her face and blew her nose. She looked up, finally, and smiled.
Mr. Fairfax’s head tilted toward her, his eyes soft with understanding. “Feeling a bit overwhelmed?”
Thinking of the viscount’s advances and her insane flight up the stairs, she chuckled humorlessly. “I suppose you could say that.”
He frowned. “Do you have any idea where you are?”
She looked around the corridor and shook her head. “Well, no. I’ve never been here before.”
Mr. Fairfax looked relieved. “Please do see that you don’t come back. This is the men’s corridor.”
Theodora leapt up, now embarrassed and horrified. “Oh, no! Oh, Mr. Fairfax, please do forgive me. I...I was upset and just ran upstairs. I did not realize where I was.”
“Shh, not to worry, lass. May I give you a bit of advice?”
She looked up to see the butler gazing at her with concern, not judgment. She nodded.
“I don’t know what has happened to you in your life, but clearly something did, and it was not pleasant. Please know you are safe here. But if you should ever feel unsafe, or you wish to talk about what you are running from, you have only to come to me. All right, lass?”
“Thank you, Mr. Fairfax. You are very kind.” It was a true statement. He was possibly the kindest man she had ever met, except for her dear father. Mrs. Appleton, and the girls, Millie and Bess, were helpful and lovely to be around. She could be happy here, if given the chance.
But it was beginning to wear on her, not knowing what was happening in London, and the scrutiny of Lord Caxton was proving hard to bear. He seemed to find her attractive, which was terrifying enough, but he also clearly suspected her of some nefarious deed. Oh, perhaps something like trying to burn her house with her husband in it? She shook her head and realized Mr. Fairfax was looking at her.
He raised a bushy gray eyebrow. “Shall I escort you to the women’s corridor, then?”
“No, thank you, sir. I have luncheon to prepare. I told her ladyship to expect a roast fowl, and I almost forgot she asked me to tell Florrie to attend Lady Julia.”
“I will dispatch Florrie, and a brief rest will not hinder your luncheon preparations. I think you could do with that, especially after yesterday.”
She snapped her head up. Did he know? “Yesterday?”
“Yesterday. Your travel from London, your three mile walk in the rain?”
She blinked. “Oh. Yes, of course.”
Mr. Fairfax took her arm and walked her down the hall. He must believe her a complete featherhead. But she had to admit a few minutes alone would do her some good. She had been alone for most of her marriage, and it was wearing to be around so many people all the time. This life, like the one she had left behind, would take some getting used to.
****
Jonathan had called to Mrs. Milsom as she flew past him and out the door, but she ran as if the hounds of hell were after her. He knew, in the more rational side of his brain, he should never have touched her; she was a servant, for God’s sake! He was becoming a caricature of an English aristocrat. His father would kill him—Tenwick men simply did not behave that way.
Yet he couldn’t help himself. He was drawn to her, even as he knew she was hiding something. Her vulnerability, coupled with her seriousness and her strange defiance of him, made for a rather fascinating combination.
He took a deep breath and leaned against the wall, letting his head fall back. He would keep his eyes and ears open but would stay away from her. He’d never spent any time in the kitchen before, except when he was a child. This could not be hard. Could it?
Chapter Nine
Theodora was in the kitchen preparing dinner, a light breeze stirring the air through the open door. As she turned to place the roast in the kitchener, a blur raced over her feet, and she lost her balance. The pan of meat flew up over her head, and she fell to the floor in a heap. Theodora blinked
butter out of her eyes and sighed at the sight of her roast on the floor beside her. The blur, which turned out to be a kitten, cowered underneath the table, eyes wide in its tiny face. It was hard to believe something so small could wreak so much havoc.
Lady Julia raced in a moment later, stopping short at the scene of destruction in front of her.
“Mrs. Milsom! Are you all right? Whatever are you doing on the floor?”
“You might consider asking the ball of fluff that preceded you into my kitchen.” Theodora pointed toward the cat, which hissed, its wiry fur standing on end.
“Jezebel! Oh, Mrs. Milsom, I am sorry. I was going to give her a bath, and she escaped.”
Theodora blinked again. “An apt name for the creature. But Lady Julia, why on earth were you giving a barn cat a bath? Are they not reasonably clean on their own?”
“Not this one. She’s got fleas.”
“Fleas!” Theodora jumped up with as much grace as she could muster, which under the circumstances wasn’t much. “Please get that beast out of this kitchen before bugs get into the food.”
Lady Julia looked aghast. “The other cooks never seemed to mind,” she said with a petulant pout.
Theodora wiped her hands on her apron. “Somehow I doubt that. Lady Julia, please do remove that cat.”
“Bravo, Mrs. Milsom,” said a voice behind her, amid applause. She whirled around to see Lord Caxton leaning against the door frame, rhythmically clapping his hands together, an amused grin etched on his face.
“Jonathan,” Lady Julia said haughtily, “this is none of your concern.”
“It is if you’re putting fleas in my food. I see you’ve already ruined our dinner.” He gestured to the roast on the floor, which the kitten was now gnawing in feral delight.
“Oh!” Lady Julia scooped up the cat and fled, glaring at her brother as she left.
The viscount laughed. Theodora just stood there in the middle of the room, dripping with butter and beef juice.
She flushed, eyes downcast. “My lord, I am sorry. The cat startled me, and I dropped the roast. I am sure I’ll be able to come up with something else for dinner.”
Stirring Up the Viscount Page 5
