by Merry Farmer
“Lord Dunsford’s study?” Owen asked as he bent to pick up the crate.
“It’ll be my study soon enough,” Lord William grumbled. He had to stand two steps above Owen to look down on him, but look down on him he did. “You won’t keep your position here by flirting with the maids,” he went on, pointing down the stairs and sending Owen on his way. “And you won’t last the month if you don’t keep your eyes on your work where they should be,” he went on, narrowing his eyes at Millie.
Millie exchanged a final glance with Owen as he made his way down the stairs. He looked back at her with apology and deep concern. As she dragged her eyes back to Lord William, Millie caught Ginny looking just as worried for her, while Jane fell back on her usual smug expression.
“Yes, sir.” Millie focused on polishing the banister for all she was worth. Her face burned with embarrassment and fear.
“That’s yes, my lord to you, chit.”
“Yes, my lord,” Millie repeated, her voice shaking.
She prayed that Lord William would go away, but instead he sidled closer to her. So close that she could smell whatever he’d used while shaving. It was heady and cloying, like the gentlemen she’d entertained out West who fancied themselves dandies when they were really just miners like everyone else.
“What is it about you?” Lord William asked, his voice in her ear almost like a tiger purring before it pounced. “Why would my stupid uncle hire an ordinary girl all the way from America when there are dozens of girls here in Cornwall who would do just as well?”
“I-I don’t know, my lord.” Millie’s voice shook noticeably.
“There must be something,” Lord William went on, inching closer. Millie knew inappropriate intent when she saw it and begged the Almighty to spare her the humiliation. “You’re not even that pretty,” Lord William went on. “What is your secret?”
“I don’t have any secrets, my lord,” Millie lied, barely above a whisper.
“You do if I say you do. And I intend to discover what they are.”
“My lord.” Help came from the bottom of the staircase in the form of Mr. Snyder. The second Lord William spotted the butler, he backed away from Millie. “My lord, your horse has been saddled and is waiting for you by the front door.”
“Excellent.” Lord William continued down the stairs, pretending nothing untoward had happened. “It’s time I get to the bottom of the waste on this estate.”
Millie only breathed easier when Lord William was out the front door. Mr. Snyder glanced up the stairs to her with a frown as he crossed through the front hall on his way to some other errand. The only thing Millie could do was pray he understood what he had seen.
“Don’t worry,” Ginny said, as if sensing her thoughts. “Mr. Snyder knows the way the wind blows with Lord William. He—” Ginny pressed her lips together, reluctant to go on. “Lord William has made trouble with maids before. Not that he’ll cause trouble for you,” Ginny was quick to add.
Millie wasn’t so sure.
“Secrets, eh?” Jane had polished her way down to the juncture of the two staircase branches. “What secrets are you keeping, Miss American heiress?”
“I don’t have any secrets,” Millie repeated, putting everything she had into her work.
“I don’t believe that for a second,” Jane said. She crossed her arms and looked up at Millie from where she stood on the landing. “Lord William is right. You have secrets, and I intend to find out what they are just as much as he does.”
Millie pretended to ignore Jane’s words, but inside, her gut was turning cartwheels. It was bad enough to have made an enemy on her first day, but now she had Lord William and Jane to contend with. And as glorious as it was that Owen had come to her rescue, she knew he wouldn’t be able to be there all the time. Her new life was in jeopardy before it could barely get started.
CHAPTER 4
M illie Horner. Owen had never known anyone like her. At their first meeting, he’d thought she was pretty, with bright, brown eyes and a sweet smile. But as her first day moved on into her first week, and that week spun into her first month, Owen’s admiration for the woman grew. She was more than just pretty. Coming all the way from America to settle herself into a life that was obviously foreign to her, she was brave. Brave and bold in a way most of the women he knew weren’t. And he wasn’t too proud to say he was smitten.
But there were things about Millie that mystified him. It could have been the way she shied away from some of the more raucous conversations in the servant’s quarters. Or perhaps it was the way she went to great lengths to avoid Lord William. Everyone tried to avoid Lord William when Lord Dunsford was away, but with Millie, there was an unmistakable skittishness to her avoidance. Like she knew exactly what Lord William was after. More so than the other maids who the odious man had set his sights on in the past. It gave credence to the rumors that were circulating around the house that Millie was holding on to a secret, the real reason she’d come all the way to Cornwall instead of finding a position in America.
“Back to work.” Lord William’s steely voice shook Owen out of his thoughts as he trimmed the lanterns in the front hall.
Millie and Ginny were atop ladders at the other end of the hall, washing the inside of the windows while Davy washed them from the outside. Jane was doing a lazy job of dusting and a first-class job of alternately glaring at Millie and eyeing him up. But the second Lord William marched into the hall, all of them put their full effort into their work.
“We don’t keep you on to spend your days lusting after maids,” Lord William growled at Owen as he approached. “Even if she is a tasty morsel.” He rubbed his chin as if he were a slathering wolf.
Owen’s temper flared, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do. He really would lose his place if he talked back to Lord William. Not even Lord Dunsford could excuse that, and Owen had ambitions that needed him to be on the best terms with his lordship.
“You don’t suppose American chits cry louder when you’re tupping them, do you?” Lord William went on in a low growl.
Forbidden to reply or defend Millie’s honor, Owen felt his temperature rise. His hand shook as he clipped the wick of the lamp he was tending to. It was as likely as not that Lord William wasn’t talking about crying in the passionate way. He was exactly the sort of man who would take his pleasure in someone else’s pain. If he were Owen’s equal, Lord William would have already earned himself a black eye and then some.
“I’ve always been told American girls give it away for free,” the blackguard went on, even though Owen did his best to pretend not to hear him. “And this one seems particularly game.”
“Excuse me, my lord.” Owen made a short bow and scooted past the man to the next lamp.
Lord William didn’t seem particularly interested in continuing to torment Owen, but he did pause where he was, watching Millie scrubbing windows, and rubbing the lower half of his face. When Millie glanced briefly over her shoulder, her face white, Owen realized she was well aware of the despicable lord’s intent. That raised his estimation of her, strangely enough. Millie wouldn’t be taken in by any trick Lord William tried on her, and if Owen’s guess was right, she would fight him if it came to it. She would be the one to black the impudent lord’s eye.
Which would certainly have her dismissed. And already, Owen didn’t think he could bear that.
He would have to keep an especially sharp eye on her. He would have to do something to take Millie out of harm’s way before the danger grew too great. But what?
The question plagued him for days, even when he was busy thinking about other things. He had his own plans in life, but even those felt like distractions from the main problem in front of him. The more time passed the harder he thought about it.
“What are you reading?”
He glanced up from the book he’d been studying in the servant’s hall one luncheon. Millie looked worn out but happy as she took a seat across the table from him and helped herse
lf to the platter of sandwiches that had been laid out for them.
He held up the book so that she could see the cover. “It’s a book about mining,” he said, in case she couldn’t read.
Judging from the way her eyes scanned the cover, she could. But her expression flattened. “Oh.”
He sent her a teasing grin across the table. “I suppose you think I should be reading some sort of thrilling novel? Maybe a penny dreadful?”
She took a bite from her sandwich but swallowed it quickly so that she could reply. “It’s not that. It’s just….” She drifted off, reaching for the pitcher of water on the table to pour herself a glass.
Owen wasn’t sure what could be wrong, but his need to make Millie feel safe led him to say, “I’m learning all I can about mining because I have a mind to take it up. I aim to better my lot in life, and becoming a miner is how I’m going to do it.”
If anything, Millie’s expression dropped further. “I see.” She glanced at her plate, but didn’t pick up her sandwich, as though she’d lost her appetite.
“Not just any miner,” Owen rushed on, hoping both to explain himself and give Millie confidence in him. “I plan to be a foreman. That means I’d be in charge of the goings on at the mine.”
“I know what a foreman is,” Millie answered, barely above a whisper.
Owen frowned, not understanding her reaction. Any other woman would have perked up to hear a man telling her he had plans to secure a position for himself that would provide him with enough money to support a family. Any other woman might have known what he was implying. But once again, Millie was proving she was not like other women.
“That’s not a bad thing, is it?” The sudden fear that she knew exactly what he was talking about but that she had no intention of considering married life—something he wasn’t entirely certain he was considering himself, except that he was—made him uneasy.
Millie took another bite of her sandwich and chewed. Ginny entered the hall and sat next to her, but seemed too exhausted and preoccupied to pay attention to the conversation. The same went for Davy, who took a seat at the far end of the table, reading a journal of his own.
At last, Millie took a breath and sighed. “My father was a miner,” she admitted, her eyes still downcast. “In Colorado. At a silver mine. That’s where I grew up.”
She may have looked uncertain and sad, but Owen perked up. “Really? So, you know a thing or two about mining?”
Millie pursed her lips and finally glanced up to meet his eyes. “I was raised in a mining camp.” There was more she wanted to say, but she was struggling to say it. Owen gave her his full attention, hoping she could trust him. “It was… My father was….” She sighed and glanced down at her plate. “It wasn’t a happy time for me.”
Two emotions hit Owen at once—anger that anything could have happened to make Millie sad, and worry that whatever experience she’d had would make her reject him. He decided to throw out the more selfish set of emotions in favor of comforting her.
“But you’re here now,” he said in his gentlest voice. “And you’re happy?” His brow lifted with his question. He hadn’t realized how important her answer would be until he asked the question.
Blessedly, her pinched expression softened to a smile. “I am happy.”
Owen had the gut-deep feeling that he could make her happier, if given half a chance. Where those feelings had come from so suddenly was a mystery to him, but no more of a mystery than the circumstances that had brought Millie to Cornwall.
“You are aware that Lord Dunsford has several mines on his property, are you not?” he asked, hoping to shift the conversation to something more factual.
Millie blinked. “I knew there were some, but I don’t see how.” She shrugged. “There are no mountains here.”
Owen laughed. “Mines can be found in more places than mountains. Cornwall is full of copper and tin. It’s how the deVere family—that’s Lord Dunsford’s people—made their fortunes generations ago.”
“Oh.” Millie took a bite of her sandwich, seeming more at ease. “The mine in Colorado produced silver. That’s all I’ve ever known.”
“I don’t know much about that,” Owen went on, encouraged, “but from what I’ve read, copper and tin mining is a little different from silver mining. Or coal mining or gold mining. Every kind of mining is a little different.” He paused, studied Millie for a moment, then went on with, “Just like every kind of miner is different.”
He wasn’t certain if he was prying for information about her past or simply reassuring her that he wasn’t like whatever had driven her across the ocean, but his efforts bore fruit.
“I’m sure,” Millie answered, her lashes lowered, a blush spreading across her cheeks. “The men I knew back there….” She reached for her glass and took a long drink of water before saying, “You’re very different from them.”
Owen grinned at her, although deep inside, his heart broke a little. It wasn’t an admission, but a few pieces of the mystery of Millie began to fall into place. She had to have been mistreated by a man in the past. That would explain why she knew to be wary of Lord William. Had she been pursued by someone who had hurt her? Pursued so much that she’d had to flee across the ocean to get away from her tormenter? He both longed and dreaded to know the truth.
“I wonder if you might—”
“What are you doing?” Jane’s shrill question cut into the question Owen tried to ask. She marched into the servant’s hall and up to the table, but rather than scolding him, as he expected, she turned her ire on Millie. “Owen is studying. You shouldn’t disturb him.”
Millie put down her sandwich. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Or do you think that being an American heiress means you can interrupt everyone beneath you with your drivel.” She crossed behind Millie and took a seat on the bench beside her, elbowing her out of Owen’s direct line of sight.
“Millie didn’t interrupt me,” Owen said, his patience with Jane’s antics growing thin. “I struck up a conversation with her.”
Jane didn’t look even a little mollified. She snatched a sandwich off the plate in the center of the table and sniffed. “You should be studying,” she told him. “A man like you should better himself.” A sly, unkind smile spread across her lips as she peeked sideways at Millie. “Owen is going to be a mine foreman. He’ll have a house of his own and an income, and will be perfectly situated to marry and raise a family. Isn’t that right, Owen?” She batted her eyelashes at him.
She had expressed the exact thoughts that he’d had earlier, but hearing them come from Jane’s lips made Owen’s back itch, like he was being backed into a corner. And by the wrong woman at that. If only he hadn’t entertained a passing fancy about whether he and Jane would suit each other all those years ago, when she’d first come to work at the house. Nothing had ever come of it—at least not on his end—but Jane hadn’t given up the notion. No matter how little encouragement he’d given her.
“It all depends on Lord Dunsford.” Owen gave up, closing his book and standing. He had duties that needed seeing to anyhow, although he regretted not getting the chance to talk to Millie longer. “His lordship has the last say in who takes the job of foreman at his mines. Enjoy your lunch.”
He was looking at Millie as he said it, but Jane was the one who answered, “Thank you, I will,” with an obsequious smile.
Owen hated leaving things like that, and if he didn’t have every clock in the house to wind before they wound down, he would stay and make it clear where his affections lay. But as always in a house as grand as Starcross Castle, there were constantly things to do and little time to do them in.
But a few minutes later, before servant’s lunch was completely over, as he was gathering supplies from the closet under the stairs, tucked into a corner where no one could see him, he realized the conversation hadn’t ended when he left the room.
“I thought I told you to stay away from Owen,” Jane’s voice cut through t
he usual buzz of activity downstairs.
“We all work together,” Millie answered, exasperated. “I can’t stay away from him completely. It’s not practical.”
“Well, I don’t want to see you talking to him in any sort of social situation,” Jane went on.
Millie laughed, though there was a good deal of strain in it. “Who I am friends with, who Owen is friends with, is none of your business.”
Owen debated making his presence known and stopping the fight he could feel was brewing.
“It is too my business,” Jane snapped back. “Owen is mine, and don’t you forget it.”
“Owen is his own man,” Millie insisted, as firm as Jane was bullying. “Who he talks to is his own business.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Jane went on. “He’s mine, and he always has been. And I won’t stand for you poaching on my property.”
Owen shifted, definitely decided that he needed to intervene.
But before he could, Millie laughed and said, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he doesn’t seem particularly interested in your company.”
“He is,” Jane insisted. “It’s just not proper for him to show it. Mr. Snyder would scold him if he went around acting too familiar with another member of staff. You should remember that too.”
Mr. Snyder would do no such thing—at least, Owen didn’t think so—and it was about time he proved it.
Clearing his throat, he stepped out from behind the closet door. “Ladies.”
Both Jane and Millie jumped. Both blushed down to the roots of their hair, but where Jane looked anxious and panicked, like she’d been caught in a lie, Millie simply looked embarrassed.
“What are you doing lurking in hallways like that?” Jane squeaked. “Don’t you know it’s impolite?”
Millie merely sent him an apologetic look.
“I was gathering supplies to see to the clocks,” Owen replied, holding up the small vial of oil and soft cloth he held. “But I was wondering.” He stepped fully out of the closet, shutting the door behind him, and moved to stand in front of Millie. “Millie, would you care to go out walking with me on our half-day this Sunday?”
