A tall, thin woman thought the hourglass collection was ridiculous and possibly blasphemous, although she did not explain how. A gray-haired matron declared them too hard to keep clean. Add a talking bird, an infant to come, and an earl out to reform the world, and the list of applicants grew shorter.
Marie was no help. She thought Genie ought to hire one of the young handsome chaps as butler—the one who had dimples and broad shoulders. Heavens, Genie’d be having to start a home for unwed housemaids with that one around. Campbell thought one of the women was a good candidate, until Marie caught sight of the pretty female and declared her bachelor fare.
“You do not want to give Monsieur ideas, chérie.”
Well, she did, but not with a housekeeper. Genie still needed to hire someone, two someones. She was too busy to organize carpet beating or washday herself, and too ill in the mornings. The footman who’d been promoted to underbutler was not dignified enough for such an eminent gentleman’s residence, not when he could barely read the calling cards. Botheration.
The last applicant on the second day was a woman of about forty, forty long, cold winters. She appreciated that the house was kept warm, and admired the artwork and interesting collections. An impoverished lord’s spinster daughter, she was seeking a position rather than end her days in the workhouse. Miss Hadley was well-mannered, well-spoken, and well used to gossip after living with a drunk for a father and a madwoman for a mother, both now gone on to a better place, she hoped.
Genie decided she was perfect—for a secretary and companion. Miss Hadley knew how to go on in society and could advise Genie. She had a neat hand, a good head for numbers, and tolerance for the unconventional. As she told her new mistress, growing up with a blind drunk and a bedlamite taught humility and patience. What Genie appreciated most was that Miss Hadley was honest. Her background might be public knowledge, but not to her prospective employer. And how could Genie hold the woman’s birth against her, when her own child’s parentage was going to be in question?
So Miss Hadley took over the hunt for the senior servants. Genie took a nap.
She did not know how long she slept before hearing a tapping on her door, the one that led to the earl’s chambers. She sat up and quickly tidied her hair, feeling a surge of hope at this unexpected visit. Unfortunately, Ardeth seemed more embarrassed than amorous.
“My lord?”
“I’m sorry. I did not know you were asleep.” With so much to see, so much to do, he could not imagine wasting an unnecessary hour in bed.
“That’s quite all right. I need to get on with my day anyway. Did you require something?”
A lot, with her warm and rosy from sleep, her gown a bit disordered. He never thought he’d need a cold bath, but perhaps soon, if his lady wife made so tempting a picture. He turned his back, studying the painting on the wall instead. Flowers and fruit did not tempt him at all, thank goodness. When he was back in command of his errant urges, he said, “There is a strange woman singing among the hourglasses.”
“Oh yes, that is Miss Hadley. She is marvelous and needs a position. I worried that I should consult you first—”
“Nonsense, if you like her, that is your prerogative. I like her voice. And her manner is neither toadying nor cringing.”
“Nor haughty. I think she likes me, which is comforting.”
Poor puss, Ardeth thought, so very alone and unsure that an upper servant’s approval mattered. He had to change that. “Then we have our new housekeeper.”
“Oh, Miss Hadley is not to be housekeeper. She is my secretary and companion. You thought I should have one, recall?” Genie went on to explain Miss Hadley’s history and qualifications.
“I am doubly delighted. Not only have you found such a wise head to help and advise you, but now I can confess that I hired a couple to be butler and housekeeper.”
Genie felt like a failure. Hiring the staff was one of the few wifely duties Lord Ardeth let her perform, and she had failed. “Oh. How nice.”
“On your approval, of course. You see, I went to visit Mrs. Smythe-Gardiner.”
“The one whose husband skewered—”
“Yes, that one.”
Genie wanted to ask what business the earl had with the Cyprian who seduced Elgin, but she knew a good wife held her tongue even if her heart was broken, along with the vows her husband had made.
Ardeth turned to look at the few bottles on his wife’s dressing table. She needed no cosmetics, he thought, but he did like the floral scent she wore. He did not like how she did not trust him. “I’d heard she found a new protector and was leaving London. I wished to make sure that she had funds to get far away.”
A large boulder seemed to lift off Genie’s chest.
“I found her already gone with her house left empty, her small staff left with no pay. The Randolphs are a pleasant couple who kept the place tidy despite the circumstances. Randolph was properly butlerish, you know, all polite and uppity, until I mentioned our need for staff. I thought the man might kiss me. They have a son, horse-mad he is, but he knows his way around London for running errands and such. I thought that, having borne a child, Mrs. Randolph might be able to assist you with some of your discomfort. They like children, pets, and both country and city living. They would not gossip about their previous employers, and they had not helped themselves to any of the furnishings in lieu of their pay. The pair seems just what we require.”
Genie did kiss him. It was a quick, impetuous hug and a smack on the cheek. Both of them jumped back.
Genie spoke first. “I am so sorry. I know you do not wish such familiarity.”
“No, no. That was quite, ah, lovely.” Lovely, hell. The painting on the wall was lovely. Genie’s touch was luminous. When had anyone, ever, spontaneously embraced him? It was all he could do not to catch her to him, to feel her so close again. He tried to make light of the shattering impact such a small gesture had made on his equilibrium. “I must remember to bring home servants in the future. I thought to fetch flowers, but I can tell that you are happier with Mr. and Mrs. Randolph.”
She was, and not simply because he had considered her needs. Besides having the chore completed so satisfactorily, she was relieved Ardeth had not gone to that wayward widow for dalliance. More, he had not rebuffed her own sudden show of affection, had not gone stiff and cold. Now she saw a glimmer of hope that they might have a real marriage one day… or one night.
That very night, in fact.
Genie was almost asleep when she heard the tapping again. She sat up and lit a candle, although her excitement might have brightened the room. How wonderful and scary and stirring at the same time—she’d shown her willingness and he’d responded!
She was wearing another filmy nightgown and thought about donning the matching robe, then thought better of it. She hurried to open the connecting door. No one was there. The chamber on the other side was dark and empty, like her hopes.
The tapping came again. Genie went to the window, which was open a bare inch, against the earlier rain and dampness. Tap. Tap.
“Olive?” She pulled up the window.
“ ‘Awk!” The bird sounded as if his throat was sore. He was wet and bedraggled, missing a feather or two, and trembling. “ ‘Awk.”
“Where have you been, silly bird? I bet you haven’t eaten in days. Heaven knows if you even know how to find food on your own.” She fed him pieces of the biscuits left at her night table to help settle her stomach. “You know Lord Ardeth never meant to toss you out.”
When she smoothed the dark feathers after drying him with a handkerchief, Genie found a gash in one of his wings. “Good grief. You’ve been in a fight?”
“ ‘Awk!”
“You mean hawk? A Cockney hawk? You poor ninny. You should not be out with those devils.”
Olive bobbed his head. She was right. Better the devil you knew.
Genie felt foolish talking to the crow, but he seemed calmer from hearing her voice. “No, you should ha
ve come to me right away if the master was angry. Remember, mine?”
She thought the bird muttered, “Mine till death do us part,” but a crow—no matter how much a mimic—had neither the intelligence nor the vocabulary for such complicated notions or phrases. “You could not have said that.”
She was right. What he’d said, looking toward that closed connecting door, was “Mine till Death does his part.”
Chapter 10
The Randolphs arrived early the next morning, bags and baggage, son and old dog.
“Oh, did I neglect to mention they had a little bitch?” Ardeth asked after making the introductions.
Genie liked the Randolphs. They seemed eager to please, grateful for their new position, happy in the rooms assigned to them, and very close-knit. Servants had little enough security, and the couple had been left with no back wages, no pensions, and no letters of recommendation. Still, they appreciated that they had each other. Genie envied them that.
After helping with the bags, young Sean Randolph was sent off on his way to school, despite his claim that since he already knew his letters and numbers, he should work in the stables. As Genie took Mrs. Randolph on a tour of the house, the small, shaggy dog trundled along after them.
“Do not think she’ll be underfoot, ma’am. She’s fat and lazy and only likes her meals, her ears scratched, and a bit of sun for her naps. Our old Helen will sleep at the foot of the boy’s bed, as usual.”
Genie did not mind. Olive did. “Hellhound! Hellhound!” The gremlin remembered the fierce demon dogs and set up such a raucous noise that half the pigeons in London took flight.
Mrs. Randolph put her hands over her ears, and that same watering pot of a maid Susan started to weep again.
Ardeth hurried back from showing Mr. Randolph the wine cellar, prepared to defend his dependents from those slavering, snarling beasts. Helen was snoring.
The earl took the bird on his arm and looked him in the eye, one obsidian stare to another. “Do you wish to go back there?” He did not mean the wine cellar.
That sharp bill snapped shut with a click.
“The dog stays. You will be friends.”
“Fiends?”
“Friends. Understand?”
“I—aye.”
While the Randolphs settled in, Olive settled who was in charge. The crow learned to imitate Mr. Randolph’s voice, making the poor dog sit, stay, and come, just for the devilish fun of it. After all, he was a gremlin at heart. He also taught the dog to share her food—or get pecked in the rump. And when Olive was weary, he rode on the old dog’s wide back, patrolling the back garden against intruders and hawks, now that he had a protector.
Soon the house was cleaner, quieter, more organized—and frantic as everyone helped Genie prepare for the prince’s rout. They all seemed to understand the importance of the countess’s first public outing. They wanted to please their sweet new mistress and, more, their new master. One of his rare smiles or a word of praise made the work go faster, the load lighter. What made Lord Ardeth happy would make them all happy, it seemed. He had that knack, without trying, Genie thought. Heaven knew she wanted to please him, too.
Miss Hadley and Marie held endless discussions of gowns and hairstyles and accessories, almost ignoring Genie except for the hours spent teaching her court manners. Miss Hadley knew precisely how low Genie ought to curtsy to royalty and made certain Genie knew it, too, and how to rise up again without falling over.
Her spirits were already low enough. She had a fine husband—eccentric and often intimidating but kind, and not too obviously attics-to-let. At least none of the others seemed to notice that he was demented, or else they thought all noblemen spoke to ghosts… in several ancient languages. The magic tricks she ignored altogether.
No matter, Ardeth was her husband, and Genie was going to disappoint him. He was never going to desire her as a wife, she supposed, because he never came to her door again, or took meals with her. Now he’d see that she was unacceptable to polite society, which he did seem to desire. He’d realize what a bad bargain he’d made. Oh, he now had a well-run household, thanks to women far more experienced than she, but that was all. Genie had not been able to find his hourglass, although she scoured pawnshops young Sean knew of, in hopes that someone had found it and sold it for money. None of the stores had anything like the small brooch Ardeth had described. She could not even do that for him.
Worst of all, she could never be the lady he deserved. If she did not fall on her arse, she was liable to cast up her accounts on the prince’s shoes.
Miss Hadley made her keep practicing her bows, and Mrs. Randolph knew just the peppermint drops to settle her stomach. Sean offered his lucky rabbit foot, Olive brought her a pearl, Marie stayed up nights sewing instead of visiting Campbell over the stables, and a frustrated Campbell polished the carriage to a fare-thee-well, lest the countess’s skirts get soiled. Even the weepy maid Susan did her share, questioning her new beau, the footman next door. She found out that his employers were invited for somewhat later than the earl and his countess, after their private audience. That information was as good as a jail sentence to Genie, who dropped another of Ardeth’s Chinese dynasty vases from suddenly numb fingers. Susan started crying.
Meanwhile, Mr. Randolph visited the local pub to glean the guest list, so Lord Ardeth could be prepared. Soon the butler knew which general favored pensions for the veterans, which viscount owned collapsing coal mines he might be willing to sell. That information was as good as gold, the earl had said, so his agents could continue his work when he was gone. Randolph assumed his lordship meant gone to his country seat for the birth of his child. Ardeth meant Gone.
The servants feared livelihoods depended on that night. Ardeth feared lives did.
It was of paramount importance that he impress the aristocrats as one of them, so no one would ask any questions later. This was his chance to make a difference, to prove his worth. Damn, he was blessed merely to have the chance. Sometimes he felt like pricking himself, just to see the blood.
Genie had to take her place, too. When she took up life at Ardsley Keep, she would be the highest-ranking lady in the neighborhood, so the local society would have to accept her. He intended to see that Londoners had as little choice, no matter what tricks of manipulation he had to employ. He’d set the cat among the pigeons if he had to, or the crow among the prigs. See how blue their blood ran with a gremlin running amok. Genie was his, and none would turn their back on her, ever. Besides, she had to face her family or she would never be whole-heart. Her spiteful sister was going to be at Carlton House, he knew, along with her husband, Elgin’s older brother, Roger, Baron Cormack. Ardeth did not tell Genie that. Too much information was dangerous.
She was nervous enough. He wanted to comfort her, to soothe her—not with mind touches, but with finger touches, hand caresses, back rubs. And more.
A lot more.
He had almost reconciled his vows with his desires. She was his wife, and she was willing. She was not mourning Macklin, and she was not indifferent to his own self. There was nothing sinful in a man’s making love to his wife. That’s what he told himself. Then he recalled that he was not quite the man she thought he was.
He might never be if he gave in to carnal instincts now, forsaking all noble intentions. He had deeper concerns, too. Ardeth did not know if he’d be able to play the gentleman in Genie’s arms. After centuries without a woman? He could terrify her. Worse, if he lost control, he could harm her. That “little death” of sexual completion could turn far more deadly.
That would be just like the Devil, giving Ardeth his six months, then eternity to regret them. That’s how long he’d feel guilty if he hurt his wife.
So he stayed away as long as he could.
—
Ardeth could not avoid, ignore, or pretend indifference to Genie on the night of the fete. He took one look at his beautiful, alluring wife coming down the stairs, and he almost rushed up those same sta
irs to carry her back to her bedroom, his bedroom, any room that had a bed. Hell, any room that had a carpet and a door. He’d tear that shimmery gown off her lush body, unpin her fiery curls, and make her his wife in deed. Just that first glimpse of the ruby he’d given her, right between her high breasts, and he’d been willing to take his chances—except for the chance of risking her life. That dread cooled his blood and slowed his breathing and stopped him from acting the moonstruck calf right in front of the entire household, it seemed, who had come to see Lady Ardeth off to her first grand party.
What a sight she was, in a gown of a gray so dark it was almost midnight, with black spangles shaped like tiny stars and moons scattered on the black lace overdress that hid her pregnancy. Her hair was gathered into a topknot, held with a star-studded diamond tiara. The ruby hung from a string of rare black pearls, reflecting the molten fire color of her hair. Ardeth wondered how he’d considered her merely comely at first, her nose too short, her skin too freckled. Not a hint of a freckle appeared now, not a flaw in sight. Her nose was perfect, held high with the assurance of a woman who knew she was in looks.
He’d seen scores of pretty women, of course, the most magnificent queens and courtesans of their times, too often struck down at the height of their beauty. They were usually vain creatures, worried over how they would look when they met him, as if he cared. He’d barely noticed, just doing his job.
He noticed now, every detail.
Lady Ardeth was not merely pretty. She was fearful, he knew, but her courage shone through, adding new dimension to what was on the surface. Add her selfless efforts to please and the glow of new life, and she was a masterpiece waiting for canvas and paint. She was perfect. She was his. But the child was not.
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