She was a force of nature, unstoppable, irresistible.
What the devil was he to do?
He couldn’t rely on her and he couldn’t trust himself. Look at what he’d done, mere hours after they’d agreed it must not happen again.
I don’t want to ruin your life, and I know you don’t want to ruin mine.
“Speaking of romantic,” he said.
“If you apologize for what happened on the roof, I’ll strangle you,” she said.
“If we hadn’t been interrupted—”
“Yes, I know.” Her brow knit. “I have to think about this. I’m sure there’s a solution. But I can’t find it now. It’s been a long day.”
A lifetime, he thought.
His life. It was changing, irrevocably, unstoppably. It had started changing from the moment his lips touched hers—no, before that. From the moment he’d found her in the ballroom.
“Eventful, certainly,” he said.
“But the heart of the matter . . .” She frowned. “Here’s what’s in my mind. We’re in dire need of a butler. It’s clear that Edwards, wherever he may be, will not return. We’re in dire need as well of Scottish servants. London servants don’t belong here. They don’t like it, they don’t understand it, and they don’t fit. Someone, clearly, wants to undermine our work here. We need to get to the bottom of that. Too, we need a stable staff we can rely on, people with ties to the place.”
Though it had been a long day, he was too uncomfortable and too angry with himself to feel weary. He was supposed to be the strong one. Yet he’d found her on the roof and he’d seen the stars in her eyes and he’d done exactly what he’d vowed he wouldn’t do again.
All the same, he couldn’t ignore what she was saying. Facts. She’d summed up the situation as logically as he might have done, if he hadn’t been so bollixed up with feelings.
“You’re right,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “I am?”
“We have a problem, but that isn’t the only problem,” he said. “We came here to rebuild. We came to solve the castle’s problems. That’s what we need to concentrate on. If we do that—”
Her mouth quirked up. “No time for misbehaving.”
“The devil makes work for idle hands,” he said.
“I never noticed that I needed his help,” she said. She gave a short laugh and moved away. “Well, then, we’ve a plan of sorts. And we can tackle it tomorrow.” She bade him good night, and vanished into the south wing.
Olivia kept the amused expression on her face until she was safely behind the doors and on her way up the stairs.
Then she stopped and clutched her head.
What were they going to do?
Desire was a terrible thing, not what she’d always imagined it to be. It was unbearable. To stand there, looking at him, and wanting to touch him and wanting to be touched.
What had happened, on the roof, that wondrous feeling.
She knew what it was. She had, after all, read Great-Grandmama’s fascinating collection of erotic literature, and she’d learned how to pleasure herself.
But that was a pale imitation.
Think about something else, she ordered herself. And so she thought about butlers and how to lose them and how to find them. She thought about ghosts that weren’t ghosts. She listed domestic problems as she climbed the winding stairs to her room.
She went to bed without much hope of sleeping well, but the day’s events had done for her. She laid her head on the pillow and the next she knew, grey morning light had filled the room and Bailey was standing by the bed, tray in her hands. From it the aroma of chocolate wafted to Olivia’s nostrils.
Gorewood Castle great hall
Morning of Tuesday 18 October
The Harpies hadn’t risen yet, and probably wouldn’t be up and about until noon. That was their usual time, Lisle supposed, when they weren’t being harassed by forces of nature.
Though feeling far from peaceful inwardly, he’d enjoyed a quiet breakfast.
He hadn’t realized how unpeaceful the previous ones had been until now.
He heard the servants’ light footsteps as they went about their work . . . the wind whistling through the chinks and broken windows . . . the fire crackling in the grate.
The environment was far from ideal, and he was hundreds of miles from where he wanted to be and the work ahead of him didn’t fill him with excitement. But he had peace about him. And order. And a moment of quiet in which to ponder the irony of Olivia’s having created it.
She came in as he was finishing the cup of coffee Nichols had made for him.
Lisle rose.
She stood next to him, and peered at the tiny cup on the table. “Is that Turkish coffee?”
He nodded. Her clothing rustled at his ear. He could smell her, the faint, floral fragrance. Or was it more spicy than floral? Very faint. Not bottled scent. Dried herbs and flowers, most likely, with which her clothes were stored.
“I’m used to it,” he said. “I’m not fanatical about it, though. I’ll drink what’s available. But Nichols has strong feelings regarding the care of his ‘gentleman.’ He wouldn’t dream of making do with whatever happens to be on hand. Wherever we go, he carries Turkish coffee. Wherever we are, he prepares it every morning. Would you like some?”
“I would, indeed.” She moved away and sat down. “Great-Grandmama has it often, but her maid is very jealous, and won’t show Bailey how to make it.”
“I’ll tell Nichols to teach her,” he said, taking his seat again. “Nichols scorns petty jealousies.” And he wouldn’t mind teaching a pretty maid whatever she wished to know, including some things she didn’t know she wished to know.
Though Lisle didn’t ring, Nichols appeared, as he invariably did when wanted. “Sir?”
“Turkish coffee for Miss Carsington,” Lisle said.
“Certainly, sir.”
“And when Miss Bailey has a moment, you are to teach her how to make it.”
“Certainly, sir.” Though Nichols’s tone did not change, Lisle noticed the spark in his eyes.
Olivia must have seen it, too. When the valet had disappeared behind the kitchen passage door, she said, “He is not to think of seducing my maid.”
“I’m having enough trouble with my own morals,” he said in a low voice. “You can’t expect me to be responsible for everyone else’s. And I certainly can’t tell him what to think. He’s a man.”
“I’m only warning you,” she said. “I can’t be held responsible for what Bailey will do. She has a low opinion of your sex.”
“Nichols can look out for himself,” Lisle said. “As I mentioned yesterday, he’s stronger than he looks. A simoom once lifted him off his feet and carried him a short distance before dropping him amongst some Bedouins. He helped them clear out the sand and made them coffee. They lent him a camel. When he returned to me, he apologized for being ‘so abruptly absent.’ ”
She looked at him, laughter and skepticism mingling in her blue eyes. “You’re making that up.”
“Don’t be absurd,” he said. “I have no imagination.”
The heated fantasies and even more uninhibited dreams had nothing to do with imagination, he told himself. To a man, those sorts of things were reality.
“I should like to know who made that up,” she said.
He followed her gaze to the minstrels’ gallery. “The ghostly visitation, you mean.”
“I want to look it over again, by daylight,” she said. “Maybe nothing was there, and Lady Cooper only imagined it or dreamed it. But that seems unlikely. Somebody’s been playing at ghosts for the last several years. Why should they stop now, when they have a fresh audience?”
“Why should they have started in the first place?” he said. “Why frig
hten someone away from a place?”
“Because you want it for yourself or because it’s got something you want,” she said.
“Clearly, no one wanted it for himself,” he said. “Mains hasn’t been able to entice a tenant, and I saw no signs of anybody living here for free.”
“Mains,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about him.”
Nichols reappeared with the coffee. He filled Olivia’s cup and refilled Lisle’s and disappeared.
Olivia turned and watched him go. “That is a gift,” she said. “Have you ever noticed how few men can make themselves unobtrusive? Usually, they’re demanding attention in every way they can think of.” Her gaze came back to him. “Not you, though. I suppose it comes of living in Egypt, doing what you do.”
“Moving quietly is an important skill,” he said.
“I should like to learn it,” she said, “but one can’t in these clothes.”
Today she wore a brown dress. Being meant for daytime, it covered her up to the throat. Otherwise, it was like the dress she’d worn last night: Immense sleeves and mountain of flaring skirts, propped up by layers of petticoats. . .
He called his mind back.
“One takes up so much space,” she said, “and one rustles so.”
“You were speaking of Mains,” he said.
“Yes.” She inhaled the coffee’s aroma and gave an appreciative sigh before taking a sip. “Oh, that is excellent. Better than Great-Grandmama’s.”
“Mains,” he said.
“You are a wonder of single-mindedness,” she said.
“One of us has to be. You wander off in ten directions at once.”
“Yes, I was thinking of food.”
“I’ll fill your plate.” He jumped up and headed for the sideboard, eager to be moving, doing something. “You talk.”
“Yes, very well. He was a puzzle, I’ll admit. I was expecting, as you no doubt were, to find he was completely incompetent. Or a drunkard. Or both. After all, people want work. The village is not exactly thriving. It’s one thing to have difficulty finding a tenant. Not all people would find a fifteenth-century castle inviting, even one in pristine condition and luxuriously fitted out. But for an agent to be unable to recruit men to work, on a property that for centuries was the main source of employment for miles about—that was strange, indeed.”
He returned to the table and set her plate down.
She looked at it. “No haggis, I see.”
“Our cook is French,” he said.
“No salmon, either,” she said. “But I notice he has somehow contrived to create perfect brioche in that abominable oven.”
“Amazing, isn’t it?” he said. He sat again. “As to Mains? You were saying?”
She picked up her cutlery. “You are so single-minded.”
“Yes, I’m on pins and needles. I can tell by the way you’re drawing this out that you’ve something of value to tell me.”
“Several things,” she said. “First, your agent drinks a little and he’s a little incompetent and a little lazy, but none of that is the problem, really. He does his job well enough. But until the last years before his death, your cousin Frederick Dalmay supervised him. Since then, the supervision has come from your father.” She stopped then, and attended to her breakfast.
Lisle didn’t question her further. He didn’t need to. “Father made a muck of it,” he said.
“Some might say so.”
“Contradictory commands,” he said. “Changing his mind a dozen times.”
“So it would appear.”
“I see what happened,” he said. “It wants no imagination. The locals feel the way I do.”
“Rules were imposed that were either unduly strict or contradicted others,” she said. “You’ve lost some tradesmen as a result. The village hasn’t been emptied, but a few families have left. In other cases, the men are traveling a distance to work.” She went on talking between mouthfuls. Lisle let her go at her own pace. He had a great deal to think about.
“I learned from my stepfather and my uncles how one ought to manage an estate,” she said. “You know how seriously Lord Rathbourne takes his responsibilities. From what I gathered, your cousin Frederick followed the same principles.”
“My father doesn’t,” he said. “He couldn’t stick to a principle or a rule if it was glued to his nose.”
“The good news is, we understand why you’ve not been welcomed with open arms.”
“Ill will,” he said. “They don’t know what additional misery I’ll bring down upon them.”
“We have to win their trust again,” she said. “I believe that’s where to start. Then we can tackle the ghosts.”
Before Lisle could answer, Nichols reappeared.
“Your lordship, Miss Carsington, a man is here about a situation,” he said.
Chapter 13
A man named Herrick, Nichols told them, was applying for the vacant butler position.
Olivia looked at Lisle.
“What’s happened?” he said. “Yesterday we couldn’t get anyone near the place.”
“Yesterday, a wee red-haired lassie hadn’t faced up to a savage Frenchman wielding a cleaver,” she said.
“Word can’t have gone out so quickly,” he said.
“It happened yesterday,” she said. “When I do something in London, it makes the rounds by breakfast time next day. Word travels even more quickly in the country, in my experience.”
“But how? Who’d tell them? We haven’t a single villager in the castle.”
“The stables,” she said. “Gossip goes from the house to the stables, and there’s always a local snoop loitering about the stables on one pretext or another. Every village has at least one person who makes it his or her business to know everything about everybody.”
Lisle looked up at Nichols. “If he was a dubious fellow in any way, I know you’d have sent him about his business,” he said.
“He has a letter from Mr. Mains, your lordship, as well as one from his previous employer, Lord Glaxton.”
That would be the castle she’d seen from the roof last night, Olivia thought. She shoved the roof and what had happened there from her mind. If she ignored it very determinedly, maybe it would go away.
“We’ll see him as soon as Miss Carsington finishes her breakfast,” Lisle said.
“I’m finished,” Olivia said.
Lisle looked at her plate. “No, you’re not.”
“I can eat anytime,” she said. “Butlers are not thick on the ground hereabouts.”
“Then I’ll take that brioche,” he said. “Give us a moment, Nichols, then bring him in here.”
She and Lisle left the table to await the prospective employee near the great chimneypiece, the warmest part of the room—and a fair distance from the passage to the kitchen, with its eavesdropping servants.
By whatever mysterious powers of timing Nichols possessed—perhaps simply living with Lisle for all these years was enough—he brought Herrick in a moment after Olivia had finished brushing crumbs from Lisle’s waistcoat. Lisle hadn’t noticed them, or didn’t care, but Nichols would. Olivia was sure he’d die of mortification if his master appeared less than presentable in front of a prospective menial.
Herrick certainly looked the part of a butler. He was physically imposing: easily as tall as Aillier but far more fit in physique. His dark hair was neatly groomed and his black eyes were sharply observant. He possessed the calm quietness of a man who knew what he was about. He reminded Olivia of Great-Grandmama’s perfect butler, Dudley.
He reminded her even more of Nichols, though Herrick was so much larger. He had the same unobtrusive manner.
Though Scottish, he spoke English with only a small trace of a burr.
&nbs
p; “You were last at Glaxton Castle,” Lisle said after he’d read the letters of referral. “I do wonder why you would give up that advantageous situation and come to this ramshackle heap.”
“Ambition, your lordship,” said Herrick. “Mr. Melvin is butler there. I was under butler. We did not see eye to eye. Given the unlikelihood of any change in this state of affairs or of his retiring anytime soon, I determined to seek my fortune elsewhere. My month’s notice expired a fortnight ago. I was on the brink of accepting a position in Edinburgh when I learned of the vacancy here. My conversation yesterday with Mr. Mains confirmed my belief that I was better suited to this situation.”
Lisle didn’t trouble to hide his astonishment. He gestured vaguely at their half-furnished surroundings. “This derelict heap?”
“Indeed, your lordship, I view it as a challenge.”
“So do we all,” Lisle said, “unfortunately.”
Olivia decided it was time to step in. “In my experience,” she said, “servants usually prefer easy places. Challenges are not, by and large, their cup of tea.”
“That is the general case, certainly, Miss Carsington,” said Herrick. “It strikes me as a dull and unsatisfactory way to live.”
“We’re not dull,” Lisle said. “Not by half. Perhaps you haven’t heard that our previous butler disappeared in mysterious circumstances.”
“In these parts, one hears everything, your lordship,” he said. “The inhabitants of Edinburgh, especially the servants, know everything about everybody within a twenty-mile radius. Gorewood is well within that range.”
“Our previous butler’s abrupt disappearance doesn’t trouble you at all?” Olivia said.
“If your lordship and Miss Carsington would permit me to speak plainly?” Herrick said.
“By all means,” Lisle said.
“The previous butler was a Londoner,” Herrick said gently—or was that pityingly? “I am not. My family have lived hereabouts for many generations. We cannot be uprooted easily. Or at all.”
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