“I will help you sort this mess out. I made it after all.” Markus grabbed a page of a land deed.
Blunt snatched it from his hand. “No! That is not necessary, my lord. It will be easier if I put it to rights.”
“As you wish.” Markus rounded the desk and left his office.
In the foyer, a steady stream of people from the village filed through. Watson sent them into the ballroom.
“Watson, what is going on? How many servants are we hiring?” Markus avoided bumping into a man with a cane and a patch on one eye. What on earth he was applying for, Markus couldn’t guess.
“We seem to have quite a few applicants, my lord. I’m sending them to the ballroom and Mrs. Donnelly is sorting them before Miss. Hallsmith conducts the interviews.” Watson was as stoic a butler as you’d find in any home in England, but when he mentioned Phoebe, his eyes glimmered like a young man talking about a lass he fancied.
If it hadn’t been so comical, Markus might have told him to remember his place. After all, Phoebe was the daughter of a viscount. Even if her idiot brother had disowned her. He couldn’t have his servants falling all over themselves about her.
Markus admired the production and visited the ballroom where several dozen people waited in groups. Mrs. Donnelly had organized them by the position they applied for: maids, scullery, grooms, footmen, gardeners, etcetera. It all served as a reminder that he needed his valet back. He would send a note to Shropshire and see if he could beg forgiveness and get Blakely to return. Crow was not his favorite meal, but the notion of training a new valet was even worse. Blakely knew all his likes and dislikes. There was no harm in asking.
Unable to return to his own office, he stomped around the garden before going to his room and using the small writing desk there. Without any fanfare or flowery words, he penned a note apologizing for his behavior and requesting Blakely return to his post at Rosefield. Once the letter was tucked into an envelope, addressed, and sealed, Markus placed it on the tray with the message to his sister to be posted.
Determined not to be thrust out again by Blunt, he returned to his office. A feminine chuckle trickled through the open door. Markus pushed the door wide.
Phoebe’s smile lit her eyes and her cheeks pinked.
Standing entirely too close to her, Blunt spoke in tones too low for Markus to hear.
Every muscle in Markus’s body clenched so tight he physically ached from head to toe. What nonsense. He had no claims on Phoebe. For all the fuss, she was only his temporary nanny. Perhaps that was harsh, but he certainly had no interest beyond her helping to put his home in order and care for Elizabeth until a proper nanny could be hired. She was an Everton lady and would go on to some other assignment as soon as she was done with him.
Still, seeing her so close to Blunt and blushing made Markus’s blood catch fire.
She backed up a step and turned toward the open door. “My lord, I was looking for you.”
Blunt stared at her as if she were the moon.
Biting the inside of his cheek, Markus focused on Phoebe. “I am here.” Sounding like a jealous lover, his tone was less disinterested than he would have liked.
Phoebe cocked her head and stepped away from the desk where Blunt still ogled her. “There are so many candidates for the various positions. I wonder if once I weed out the bad eggs, we might sit down and go over my notes before I hire on the new staff?”
Blunt closed the gap she had put between them. “I would be happy to help.”
Holding his position near the door, Markus would not be drawn into a triangle. He had no interest in Phoebe Hallsmith. Still. “I see no reason why you would extend your duties beyond this office and my holdings, Mr. Blunt.”
“I only wish to help Miss Hallsm—um—you, my lord. I only wish to help you get Rosefield back in order.” Blunt tugged on the bottom of his frockcoat and pulled his shoulders back.
“Very admirable, but you may best do that by focusing on my financial situation.”
“Yes, my lord. I am ready to discuss those items at your convenience.” Blunt stepped back until the desk stopped his retreat.
“Miss Hallsmith, when you are satisfied with the list of applicants, we can go through them. I would appreciate if you gave priority to any returning staff. I am sure I have put some of them into difficult situations. I would like to remedy that as soon as possible.”
A wide smile spread across her face and illuminated her eyes far brighter than the flirting with Blunt had. “Wonderful, my lord. I shall find you later today with the list.”
The idea of her seeking him out, no matter the reason, lit something inside him. Something he had not felt in a long time. Joy, happiness, a sense of purpose? No. He shook the notion away and bowed. “Until then, Miss Hallsmith.”
She rushed from the room.
It took a force of will not to watch her go. Blunt, on the other hand, stared after her like a lost puppy. Markus wanted to punch him in his too perfect nose. “Are you ready to get to work, Mr. Blunt?”
* * * *
Neck and back aching, Markus pored over hundreds of neglected documents. His annoyance over Blunt’s obvious infatuation with Phoebe faded with the realization that without Blunt keeping his accounts, he would likely be homeless by now. Sitting back, he rubbed his eyes. How could he have let things get so bad? Blunt had made several decisions in Markus’s name just to keep the bill collectors at bay. It would take weeks to put it all back in order, but he was thankful to have the wherewithal to make it right again. A few more months at the bottom of a bottle and he might be begging Father for help. He cringed and dispelled the notion.
Besides, if what Jared Blunt said was true, Father was in a worse situation than Markus. With no one to keep him in line, the Earl of Castlereagh was in trouble. Once Markus got things at Rosefield under control, he would deal with Father’s mess.
The parcel of land at the far east of his property was the most productive on paper. George Harper worked that land if his memory served. Picking up the accounting of the different farms, he went in search of Blunt, though he had a pretty good idea where he’d find the secretary.
Taking a detour through the ballroom, Markus found only one young man left waiting and a very tired Mrs. Donnelly slumped in a chair. “Are you all right, Mrs. Donnelly?”
She jumped up, but her eyes smudged blue underneath and the slump of her shoulders told a different story. “Just tired, my lord. It’s been a long day.”
A young man stepped in. “The lady will see the next person now.” He waved and left.
With a sigh, Mrs. Donnelly said, “You’re the last, Ed. Go on in and be smart about it.”
Ed ran his fingers through his light brown hair while clutching a cap in his other hand. Jacket frayed at the wrists and pulling tight across his back, he walked out of the ballroom.
“That’s the last of them for today, my lord. I’m happy to have this over and have a regular staff on hand again. I’ll just run and check on Becca and little Elizabeth.”
Strange that he’d spent months avoiding his daughter, and all she reminded him of, and now he’d missed her after one day at his desk. He handed Mrs. Donnelly the paper in his hand. “If you will take this back to my office, Mrs. Donnelly, I will go and fetch Elizabeth from the kitchen.”
It took her a moment to close her mouth. “That would be a help, my lord. Thank you.”
The Harper farm could wait until tomorrow. Markus went to find his daughter and the idea was not repugnant. In fact, he was excited to see her.
Squeals echoed up the steps from the kitchen. What he found was the most delightful mess he’d ever seen. Bowls and pans spread across the table with flour and other ingredients strewn and slopped from one end of the room to the other. Elizabeth sat on the table, wearing more of the batter than she stirred and screaming with delight.
“Are
you planning to bake my daughter or some confection, Becca?”
Eyes wide, Becca made a quick curtsy. “My lord, we were just making some of your favorite biscuits.”
Stepping forward, he forced a frown to hide his bubbling amusement.
Elizabeth watched him warily, waiting for him to fly into a fit. Her hands stilled on the bowl and spoon, and through the layer of sticky batter, her little knuckles turned white.
Markus stuck his finger in the bowl, scooped out a taste, and stuck it in his mouth. Sweet and buttery, just as a good biscuit should be. Very few would make it to the ovens, but those that did would be wonderful. He let his smile break free of the farce he played. “These will be the best biscuits I have ever had. May I help?”
Screeching with a wide smile, Elizabeth lifted both hands and the one with the spoon splattered batter in every direction. One rather large dollop landed on Markus’s lapel.
Both Elizabeth and Becca froze, horror etched on their faces.
Using his index finger, he wiped the sweet from his clothes and ate it. “You are right, of course. I should take this off. That is if the cook does not mind another helper in her kitchen.”
Through liquid eyes and a bright smile, Becca said, “I would be glad for the help, my lord.”
Markus draped his soiled jacket on the back of a chair, rolled up his sleeves, and waited for instructions.
“You can add two cups of flour to that clean bowl at the end of the table, my lord. From the looks of things, we may need a second batch if you’re to have a snack tonight.”
So, his late-night snacking was known by the servants. Did it matter? Did they also know he no longer snacked alone? He found the only clean bowl in a sea of messy, dirty crockery and put the flour in as instructed.
Becca walked him through the dry ingredients then the wet before telling him to add the first to the second and stir.
Abandoning her own batch, Elizabeth scooted across the table to sit with him.
Carefully and without the mess and splatter, they stirred the batter until it came together. Elizabeth’s chubby hand under his on the spoon was so right, it spurred an ache deep in his chest.
As they finished the batter, Becca cleaned the disaster on the table and countertops. Laughing and giving instructions the entire time while scrubbing her kitchen clean. By the time the biscuits were on a pan and in the oven only the floor was still flour and sugar splattered. Several eggs had been lost down there as well. “You two have been excellent helpers.”
Markus had never cooked anything in his life, though he enjoyed the fruits of other people’s labors. There was something satisfying about turning a few ingredients into something else. “Shall we help you get this mess off the floor?”
A loud laugh burst free and Becca covered her mouth with her hand. “No, thank you, my lord. I will take care of that. You and the little miss should go and get some fresh air. It’s a beautiful day and we may not have many of them left before winter brings cold and snow. I’ll bring you a warm biscuit when they’re done. For sure they’ll be ready by tea time.”
“What do you think, Elizabeth? Shall we go to the gardens?”
Becca wiped a wet cloth across Elizabeth’s face as she nodded. After a quick wiping down, Elizabeth held her hands out to Markus.
Heart lodged in his throat, he lifted her. Emotion pressed behind his eyes.
A sniffle from Becca proved he was not the only one moved by the rapport building between them.
He gave Becca a nod as she wiped her watery eyes, and he and Elizabeth left the kitchen in search of some fresh air.
Chapter 5
No. 13
Everton Ladies are to remain aloof and never get personal with a client.
—The Everton Companion
Rules of Conduct
The last of the day’s applicants left the small parlor at the back of the house. Phoebe hadn’t known what she was getting into, but it had been a good day and she had assembled quite a few excellent candidates for positions at Rosefield.
Jared Blunt had come to help her. Markus must not have believed her capable of handling things herself. Initially annoyed, she had to admit he had been excellent at organizing her notes about each applicant.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Miss Hallsmith?” Jared placed the last of the notes on the pile. His smile revealed crooked teeth with a small gap between the front two. His brown eyes sparkled like a child who had discovered some bit of candy. Tall and lean, he was not bad looking, though perhaps too eager to please.
The smart thing to do would be to encourage a well-employed young man with obvious interests in her with some light flirting. How she hated all the regular things about courting. “No. Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Blunt. I can manage things from here. You have been a great help to me.”
If it was possible, his smile brightened and he stood straighter. “It was my pleasure, Miss Hallsmith. I would be happy to come back tomorrow and assist you.”
“I would think you have much work to do with his lordship. I can manage this with Watson and Mrs. Donnelly.”
His grin dimmed and he shuffled his feet. “Yes. There is much to do in the office.”
Relief flooded her.
“Perhaps I might impose on you after work for a walk in the gardens, Miss Hallsmith?” He stared and clasped his hands.
There was her dread again. “We shall just see how things go tomorrow, Mr. Blunt. One never knows how a long work day will end up.”
He took her hand and bowed over it. “I understand your hesitance. You do not know me at all. I shall endeavor to remedy that. Until tomorrow, Miss Hallsmith.”
Honoria breezed into the room, humming a happy tune.
Jared bowed to her before leaving.
“He is quite handsome,” Honoria said.
“I suppose he is.” Phoebe gathered her papers, tucked them in a leather satchel, and sat.
Taking the seat the applicants had used, Honoria studied Phoebe. “You do not like him?”
“He is very nice.” It was true. He had come and helped her without treating her like an imbecile. Most men did not think women capable of rational thought or organization. He was meticulous and kind. Still.
“He has good employment and comes from a respectable family.”
Phoebe narrowed her eyes on Honoria.
Shrugging, Honoria said, “I asked Watson about him.”
There was nothing surprising in that admission. Honoria might be forward thinking in many ways, but she was still part of English society and, just like her mother, very keen on marrying any young woman off to the highest bidder. “I am sure Mr. Blunt is a fine catch for a woman of my station.”
“There is no need to say it like that, Phoebe. If you do not like him, then forget I mentioned it. It is only that he looks at you as if you are the sun and the moon. I believe with very little encouragement he would court you and perhaps make you an offer. Is it not beneficial for you to explore the idea? Watson tells me Mr. Blunt has a very nice home just outside of Benton. He even has a carriage. Of course, he has no title and therefore is beneath you. Still, you have been disowned, so that is of little consequence.”
The idea of crawling under the small Queen Ann desk appealed to Phoebe. Jared Blunt was nice, had a good living, and probably liked her, but to spend every day for the rest of her life with him… “I will give the matter some thought.”
Honoria clapped. “Excellent. Now go and get some air. Your cheeks are white as alabaster. It is not healthy to sit in one room all day long and get no air. I am sure there will be tea in thirty minutes, but you have time to catch a breath before then.”
Thinking of courting and social status made her wish she had her Grand to talk to. Grand had a way of putting everything in perspective. Choking down her sorrow, she said, “I will go immediate
ly. Would you join me?”
“No. I need to rest. I have been touring the grounds with Mr. Duck for over an hour.” Honoria touched the back of her hand to her cheek.
“Mr. Duck?”
“The groundskeeper, my dear. He is a fine fellow with copious knowledge of Rosefield. The viscount is lucky he did not leave.” Honoria stood, fluffed her pale-yellow skirts, and smiled.
Phoebe would have to investigate this Duck fellow. Leaving Honoria to find her rest, Phoebe went to the garden.
Overgrown and wild, there was barely a path left to follow, but Phoebe wandered along what remained and let the sun warm her face. Leaves floated down in gold, orange, and brown, further hiding the stone and grass.
“Jack climbed the beanstalk way up into the clouds.” Markus’s voice cut through the breeze. With Elizabeth curled in his lap, he sat in the grass in his shirtsleeves and told the story.
Elizabeth had her thumb in her mouth and twirled her hair around a finger of her other hand.
“He climbed and climbed until he reached a new land and saw a castle in the distance. The closer he got to the castle, the bigger it loomed. Far larger than anything Jack had ever seen before.”
Seeing her first, Elizabeth untangled her finger and pointed at Phoebe.
Markus made to rise, but Phoebe stopped him. “Do not get up. I only meant to take a walk, not to disturb the story.”
“Will you join us, Miss Hallsmith?”
She should go away and keep to her own business. Only there to help them get back on their feet, she need not become attached. “Thank you.” She sat. The cool grass and warm sun were a perfect contrast in the little wilderness. “It is lovely here.”
“It needs a good pruning back, but I have always been fond of this garden. Have all the applicants gone for the day?” He brushed the hair out of Elizabeth’s face.
The sight was as heartwarming as it was devastating. Poor Emma never lived to see such a sight. She would have been so happy. “Yes, I have quite a lot to go over with you after tea.”
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