The hour was nearing midnight, and the house was quiet at last. Sally had only just returned from visiting her son and had given back the coat and boots Cora had let her borrow. Although cold and wet, Cora immediately donned them and crept down the stairs to the kitchen, doing her best not to disturb those who had already taken to their beds. All day long, she had been craving an opportunity to escape into the glistening world of white for a soothing stroll through the snow. She wanted to breathe in its freshness, relish the calm and gentle quiet, and touch the tender snowflakes with the tips of her fingers. Euphoria filled her at the mere thought of it, making it difficult to keep her steps careful.
At the bottom of the stairs, she entered the kitchen and immediately stiffened. Mr. Ludlow was seated at the table with his back to her. He must have heard footsteps for he twisted his head around and lifted a questioning eyebrow when he spied her.
"We must stop meeting this way, Mrs. Notley," he said. "I'm beginning to wonder if you ever sleep."
"Forgive me, sir," she said quickly. "I did not mean to intrude on your solace. I had thought everyone had gone to bed."
He shrugged and gestured to the plate in front of him containing a partially eaten slice of cake. "As I'm sure you have already surmised, I wanted to sneak another bite of cake with no one the wiser, but alas, you have found me out. I will no longer be able to blame the missing portion on Harry as I had planned to do."
Cora smiled. "Harry is always deserving of a good prank. If you should like to point the finger at him, I will gladly remain silent on the subject."
He chuckled and returned to his cake, taking another bite. "You will join me, won't you Mrs. Notley? I don't believe Mrs. Caddy has ever made a cake quite this flavorful. There is a touch of lemon in it, is there not? I am quite fond of lemon."
Cora remained by the stairs. "So I've noticed. You seem to enjoy the lemon tarts above all others and your favorite dessert is lemon cream."
He glanced back at her. "Was it your idea, then?"
"I merely suggested that Mrs. Caddy try flavoring the cake with a few squeezes of lemon. She was good enough to oblige me."
He did not respond right away, merely continued to gaze at her as though searching for an answer to a question. Cora had no inkling of what he might be thinking and she shifted uncomfortably, wondering if she ought to have escaped out her window and scaled the stone walls instead of coming down the stairs. If she had known he would be here, she would have taken her chances with the window.
He finally spoke. "You seem to know me better than I know myself these days, Mrs. Notley."
"I am certain that is not true." Perhaps it was the dim lighting, the lateness of the hour, or the romantic, snow-covered landscape in the background. Whatever it was, the comment sounded much too intimate for her comfort. Cora was suddenly most anxious to flee his presence.
She cleared her throat. "This will likely sound childish, but I would very much like to step out of doors for a time and enjoy the snow before it melts away. Forgive me for happening upon you at such an hour, sir. I wish you the happiest of birthdays and will leave you to your cake."
She quickly strode towards the servant's entrance and grabbed hold of the knob, intending to escape as quickly as possible.
"But I have seen you, Mrs. Notley. And as your employer and a gentleman, I cannot allow you to venture out at this late hour alone."
What nonsense! Surely he did not mean to deter her. She had been waiting far too long for this treat and refused to allow him to stop her. "Do be serious, sir. You and I both know that I will be quite safe. If it will ease your mind, I will promise not to stray far from the house."
The stool screeched as he stood. Oh dear, what was he doing? He was on his feet and moving towards her. Why? Did he plan to accompany her? Barricade the door? Touch her face in that intimate way as he had earlier? Whatever his reason, it could not possibly bode well for her.
"Truth be told," he said, removing her hand from the knob and placing it in the crook of his arm, "I have been longing to take a jaunt through the snow as well. I do hope you will allow me to accompany you."
The mere touch of him made her feel as though she stood before a roaring fire. She wanted to relish his nearness and draw closer to him, to smell the lemon on his breath and feel the contours of his arms and shoulders beneath the smooth superfine of his coat. He had a mystifying aura that continually bewitched her into a trembling state of longing and confusion.
Good heavens, this would not do at all.
He began leading her in the direction of the great hall, but Cora resisted, pulling her hand free and stepping away from him. "Of course you cannot accompany me, Mr. Ludlow. You have not finished your cake." It was a silly excuse, but Cora's befuddled brain could not conjure up a more substantial reason for him to remain behind.
"Come now, Mrs. Notley. It is still my birthday, and my wishes ought to be granted, don't you agree? You cannot be so cold as to deny me the pleasure of an evening stroll in the presence of your company."
"But, sir—"
"No buts." He reached for her hand again and placed it on his arm, covering it with his own. "I beg you not to sour what has become a surprisingly good birthday for me. Simply agree to let me join you, and allow me to bask in the delight of the day for a while longer."
Cora stared at him, trying to think of some way to extricate herself from this situation. How could he possibly think this a good idea? She could not walk out with him. She would not. And yet how could she refuse him after such a speech—or rather, plea?
Curse the man for being a constant plague on her emotional state. Why had he needed yet another slice of cake? Why could he not keep to his room as he usually did?
"Have I convinced you, Mrs. Notley? Take another look out the window and tell me you do not wish to go out."
Cora opened her mouth to say precisely that, but one glance at the brilliance of the scene melted the words from her tongue. The beauty called to her, telling her she'd be a fool to miss this rare opportunity.
"I…" she hesitated, knowing she should not agree and yet unable to say as much.
"Very good then." Mr. Ludlow took her silence as agreement and began leading her through the kitchen. Against her better judgment, she allowed him to take her to the great hall, where he relinquished her hand so that he might he shrug into his greatcoat and pull on some gloves and a hat. His boots, she noticed, were still on his feet.
With a slight creak, he pulled open the large wooden door and stood aside, gesturing through the opening. "After you, Mrs. Notley."
One look outside, and Cora felt the last of her willpower slip away. Her feet began to carry her forward, taking her into the glowing night where chilly air blasted her face and crept through the cracks and crevices of her coat. But Cora did not care. The air felt fresh and clean, rather like a new beginning. Her spirits lifted and soared, and she picked up her skirts to trot down the steps, her smile growing with each crunch of snow.
Mr. Ludlow caught up to her at the bottom and tucked her hand in his arm once again. As they began to stroll towards the gardens Cora tried to remain focused on the serenity of the night and not allow his nearness to unsettle her, but she was having a tricky time of it. The snow became an afterthought as every footstep he took, every movement of his arm that registered beneath her fingers, every smoky breath he exhaled engaged her senses. He rattled her in a way she could not ignore.
"I can now understand why you wished to step out. It is rather enchanting, isn't it?" he said, not sounding nearly as affected as she felt. Curse the man. Why couldn't he have stayed inside and found his enchantment from the window scene?
"I must thank you for tonight," he said quietly. "You have done as promised and managed to turn a dreaded day into a good day, and I am grateful for it. I am grateful for you, Mrs. Notley—you and your unconventional ways."
The tenderness in his voice infused warmth, happiness, and anxiety into Cora's soul. What did he mean, exactly? Was he merely offering a kind compliment—one he would extend to any friend or acquaintance who did him a service? Or did he mean something more by it? She was not well versed in the ways of men and did not know if she ought to be thankful or worried.
Rather than respond, Cora searched her mind for a less dangerous topic—one that would allow her to find at least a little peace during their stroll.
Pulling her hand free from his arm, she stopped walking and mustered a teasing tone. "I have suddenly realized that I have given you the pleasure of my company too freely, sir. It is making me feel like a wanton, and I cannot allow it to continue."
"Indeed?" He appeared both intrigued and confused. "Are you suggesting that I return indoors, or can you propose a remedy?"
"I believe it can be remedied, if you are so inclined," she said. "As it was I who thought to take a stroll through this lovely, wintery night, it is now your turn to contribute something."
His eyes narrowed somewhat. "And what is it you would like me to contribute, madam?"
"Why, the entertainment, of course."
His eyes widened and his lips lifted in amusement. "Shall I dance a jig, Mrs. Notley? Or would you prefer I offer up a riddle of some sort?"
"What I would prefer most—and which also happens to be the price for remaining in my company—is for you to recount me the poem that caused you to lose your dignity once upon a time. If you refuse me this, I'm afraid you really must go back inside. It is not fair to me otherwise."
"Is it not?" he said, the words sounding a bit like a chuckle.
"No, sir." She strained to keep her expression earnest with incredible difficulty.
He clasped his hands behind his back and nodded. "Very well, Mrs. Notley. If that is the payment you require for the pleasure of your company, I would be a nodcock not to comply. Only let us continue walking so that I need not look you in the eye whilst I relive my downfall. I can only pray you are the forgiving sort and will not hold it against me."
They walked side by side, and after a few steps, he began. "As I said before, it was a crush of a soirée in London, with anyone who was anyone in attendance. My ridiculous friend, Christopher Jamison, was rather adept at landing me in scrapes, and this was no exception. Per the terms of our wager, he put a word in our hostess's ear that I had composed a poem I should like to perform at some point during the evening's entertainment. Not knowing how unskilled I was in the art of poetry, she added my name to the list. I'll never forget Lady Bethany's stirring performance on the harp that preceded my reading. She caused an awed hush to fall over the crowd, followed by the most exuberant applause, and such was the state of expectations when I took the floor. I realized then that I should have insisted on taking my turn first."
Cora laughed, enjoying the tale immensely. "You must not keep me in suspense any longer, sir. I must hear that poem."
"Only if you promise that you will not think less of me once you have. I have never claimed to be a poet of any sort, although I did get the thing to rhyme."
"How could I possibly think less of you then?" Cora teased. "Rhymes are so very difficult to achieve."
He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he cleared his throat and began. "The Story of the Calf by Jonathan Ludlow. Once there was a wee calf, and that is half." He paused dramatically. "The poor creature leapt over a wall, and that is all."
Cora waited for him to continue, and when he did not, she said, "That is truly the whole of it?"
"It took me an entire two hours to compose those stanzas. I did not have time to add anything more."
She burst out laughing, attempting to stifle her giggles with the palm of her hand. "I never dreamed it would be that dreadful."
"Yes, that was Jamison's reaction as well," he said dryly. "Lest you forget, you did promise you would not think less of me."
"Of course I do not." She continued to giggle. "I only wish I had been in attendance to see the faces of everyone present. I can only imagine the stir you caused."
"It was more of a stunned silence. The applause was tepid at best, and no one could look me in the eye afterwards. Should I ever learn to draw, I will be happy to sketch out the scene for you. The image is still quite vivid in my mind."
"I'm certain it is." Cora tried her best to stop giggling, but it was of no use. The image that played out in her mind's eye was far too hilarious.
"Did you find my story as entertaining as you thought you might? Am I allowed to continue our stroll?"
"That was most definitely an adequate contribution," she said, thinking that she rather liked having him along when he was not touching her or wreaking havoc on her insides.
"Despite being brought so low," he said, "those were indeed happier days. I greatly miss Jamison and his antics."
"Where is he now?" Cora immediately regretted the words when she caught a glimpse of sadness in his expression. What if his friend had met with some horrible demise and her question had caused him to relive the pain of it? Would she never learn to hold her tongue?
"He purchased his colors and joined the navy years ago," he answered. "He was born to a family not so well off as I and needed to earn a living in some way. I suggested that he stay put and marry an heiress here in England, but that was not Jamison's way. He's rather like you in that respect—not wishing to be beholden to anyone for anything. I could only admire him for it, but I was very sorry to see him go. His departure marked the beginning of some difficult years for me."
Mr. Ludlow stared into the distance, his eyes unfocused as though lost to the memory of those years. Cora wanted to reach out and comfort him, but she kept her hands firmly at her side.
"What happened?" she asked quietly.
His eyes refocused on her, and he studied her a moment before he began walking again. Cora stayed at his side, and after several crunches of snow beneath their boots, he said, "About a year after Jamison left for war, I was invited to a house party where I met the most radiant of women, or so I thought at the time. Not only was she a stunning beauty, but she was intelligent, witty, and intriguing. We soon discovered that we had much in common and became quite inseparable. By the end of the month, I felt as though I had found my perfect match—someone with whom I could easily share my life. I returned home and explained as much to my parents, and they promptly extended an invitation for her family to join us at our estate for the entire month of December and through the Christmas festivities.
"It was during that time that my elder brother became caught in her snare as well, unbeknownst to me, and at my birthday celebration a few years ago, I happened upon the two of them in the library, locked in a passionate embrace. They were celebrating her acceptance of his proposal. They wished for my felicitations, if you can believe it, but of course I did not offer them. I slammed the door and walked away."
Cora's heart wrenched at his news and the sound of his voice—so wooden and hollow. Her hands fisted at her side, wanting to plant the woman and his brother a solid facer. How could anyone behave so heartlessly?
"Later," he continued, "when I confronted and demanded an explanation of her, she said that it was I who she desperately loved and not my brother, but surely I knew that love was not enough. Her family's pockets were to let, you see, and my brother was the eldest and therefore heir to the bulk of my family's estate. Though I inherited a great sum from my mother and was quite wealthy in my own right, I also happened to be a younger son who was still beneath my brother. According to her, if she could attract his notice and win his hand, she would be a fool to let her feelings for me get in the way."
He paused, his tone taking a bitter turn. "But all was not lost, she said. Her greatest wish was for us to carry on in secret so that she would not lose me nor I her. She seemed to think it the perfect solution and could not understand my refusal or my outrage. I left Cornwall the following morning and went to London for a time, where I attempted to lose myself in the season. A wedding invitation eventually arrived, which I promptly tossed into the fire, and on the day they were to be married, I left London and eventually found my way to Yorkshire and this property. You should have seen the wretched state Tanglewood was in when I first laid eyes on it—so overgrown and rundown. But I knew it was exactly what I needed at the time and so I purchased it and threw all my energies into restoring it. In many ways, it has saved me."
His jaw clenched and he shook his head. "How I could have ever fancied myself in love with such a woman I cannot fathom. Even now, I feel like an utter fool."
Cora watched him, wondering how anyone could be as unfeeling as that woman and his own brother. It was no wonder Mr. Ludlow did not trust easily and had no tolerance for dishonesty. Perhaps that was also the reason lonely paintings appealed to him, why he had secluded himself at Tanglewood, and why his dimple was so elusive at times.
"You are not a fool, Mr. Ludlow," Cora said. "Merely human. It is a fault we all share, I'm afraid."
"Not you." He stopped walking and peered down at her, his expression raw and vulnerable. A tenderness had replaced the cold sadness from moments before. "Truth be told, I think you rather perfect."
His words caused her insides to flutter, her pulse to race, and her mind to shout out a warning. There he went again, upsetting the precarious balance between them. Why did he feel the need to say such things? And why did his words cause so great a disturbance to her emotions? She needed to be immune to him.
"If you believe that, sir, then I have deceived you as well."
"I believe you incapable of deception," he said quietly, lifting his hand to her cheek and touching it tenderly. "From the moment I first met you in my study, I felt as though I could trust you as I have not trusted anyone in a very long time. Your eyes were too honest, your expressions too telling, and your smiles too genuine. Add to that your beauty and charm, and is it any wonder my thoughts are consumed by you? You intoxicate me, Mrs. Notley, and I cannot tell you how badly I wish to kiss you right now."
Cora suddenly felt like she had been taken back to her childhood home, when she had stood before the fireplace in her room, transfixed by the flames that burned with such power, color, and vibrancy. She longed to play with them and see what they could do, so she had pushed one end of a dead and lifeless branch into the flames, delighting when the leaves sparked and the branch began to smolder and flame. As the heat crept closer and closer to her hand, she had thought, One moment longer. I will keep hold only one moment longer. It wasn't until she felt pain that she had dropped the branch and pulled her hand back, staring at the flames in shock. She had trusted them and they had burned her.
Cora had thought she had learned a valuable lesson that day, but now that she was standing before a man who drew her to him as the flames had done that day, she realized the only thing she had learned was the outcome. She was bound to get burned again and felt powerless to stop it from happening. Only this time, instead of her hand, it would be her heart.
He took her face in his hands, igniting delicious tingles that surged through her body and down her spine. As his mouth neared hers, Cora's heart pounded like a gong in her ears. She should not allow this to continue, and yet she could not move. A whiff of lemon captured her senses right before his mouth brushed across hers in a feather-light touch. His lips were warm and dry and soft. Caught up in the delightful sensations he stirred within her, Cora began to return the kiss, tentatively at first and then with more vigor. It quickly grew in intensity, pulling her into a world that felt far more wondrous and magical than the snow-touched landscape surrounding them. She had always wondered what it would feel like to be thoroughly kissed, but she had never expected it to be this exhilarating or magnificent. Her body had never felt more alive, and she reeled at the power of it. Her hands wound around his back so that she might pull him closer still. She wanted more of this, more of him.
A snowflake landed on her cheek, bringing an unwelcome nudge of awareness. Gradually, outside thoughts began to intrude, weaving their way into the back of her mind. She thought about her position and his, about proprieties, consequences, rules, and reputations. With every thought, the magic subsided until she came to a very real existence where an employer would kiss his housekeeper for only one reason—and it was not because he meant to declare himself.
Feeling suddenly ill, Cora pressed her palms to his chest and pushed him away. Only moments before she had jested about feeling like a wanton and now she had become one. How could she have returned Mr. Ludlow's kiss with such reckless abandon? What must he think of her? Did he believe her open to some sort of proposition now?
She fisted her hands, suddenly angry with him. "I may only be a tradesman's daughter, sir, but I am a respectable one. If we allow this to continue, we will be no better than your brother and the lady who jilted you most abominably. I am your housekeeper and nothing more. You must desist in seeking me out and… and…"
"Kissing you?" His lips began to twitch, and his dimple emerged. Under normal circumstances, Cora would be thrilled at the sight of it, but she found it most vexing at the moment. How dare he laugh at her? Did he think her silly for having principles and morals? She had told him in the beginning that she was not the sort of woman to cavort with her employer. Surely he had not forgotten that conversation already. The awkward nature of it should have embedded itself in his memory.
"Yes, that is precisely what I mean." She frowned at him, wondering why he continued to smile. Did he think this a great joke? Did he not see how much he had injured her pride and feelings? Cora had never felt more exposed or vulnerable and he did not seem to care at all.
Unbidden tears filled her eyes, and she immediately wished him to the devil. How dare he ruin this perfectly beautiful evening by causing her to cry?
Altogether too late, Mr. Ludlow's smile vanished. He reached for her shoulders but she flinched away from him, turning her face to the side in an attempt to hide her blasted tears. Why did they persist in coming? A person should only cry if he or she wanted to. Tears should never come unbidden, they should not!
"Cora," he said quietly, not attempting to touch her again. "Will you please look at me?"
She shook her head, pressing her eyelids together with the hope of keeping the tears inside. But it only served to squeeze them out. They trailed down her cheeks as a testament of her foolishness.
He took her gently by the shoulders, and when she did not resist he pulled her against him, wrapping his arms tightly around her. She allowed him to hold her because she loved being in his arms. She loved his scent, his strength, the husky timbre of his voice, the rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek—she loved it all. And yet she should not.
He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "How could you think that I would ever wish to take your respectability or virtue? I assure you that is the last thing I would ever want. Do you truly not know how dear you have become to me?"
At his words, Cora felt something resembling hope spark in her chest, like an ember on the verge of rekindling. It soothed and comforted her, easing the ache that had throbbed so very badly. She untucked her head from his chest and looked up, wanting to believe him and yet not knowing how she could.
"What is it you want from me?" she asked.
He raised his hand to her brow and slid the back of his fingers down the side of her face, stopping just below her mouth. His thumb grazed her lips, causing them to tingle and yearn for another taste of him.
"More than anything else, I want to dismiss you."
What? Cora blinked, not comprehending. Was he in earnest? His lips were not twitching, his eyes showed no humor, and his forehead had furrowed. If anything, he looked concerned.
"I beg your pardon?"
His tightened his grip on her shoulders and held her firmly. "Do you not understand? Are you so blind to my motives that you cannot see them for what they are? I want to dismiss you because I no longer wish to call you Mrs. Notley. I'd greatly prefer to call you Cora or at the very least, Miss Notley. I would like you to return to the Shepherds and allow them to launch you into local society so that I might see you at dinner parties, luncheons, and balls. I want to play cards with you, dance with you, and be able to pay court to you the way you deserve to be courted. I want to sweep you off your feet with the hope of one day proving to you exactly how much I have come to admire you. You have become so much more than a housekeeper to me. You have become the reason I am out here in this cold, wet night, the reason I arise in the morning and find something to smile about, the reason my birthday has gone from bad to good. I am falling in love with you, and I need for you to not be my housekeeper any longer."
Cora could not breathe. Everything around her seemed to tilt and wobble. Had he really said he was falling in love with her—her, the lowly daughter of a tradesman turned housekeeper? How was that even possible? She could scarce believe it and yet he had said those very words. Hadn't he? Had she somehow imagined them? It did not feel real at all. In fact, it felt so very unreal.
Goodness, she needed to sit down. She needed to breathe.
"Have I caught you so unaware?" he asked.
She could only nod in the affirmative. Of course he had caught her unaware! Did he think she had taken on the role of housekeeper with the hope of engaging his affections? Did he have any idea of the struggle it had taken to keep him at a distance and not allow her heart to become too attached? How could she even hope for such an outcome when it had not been in the realm of possibilities?
Cora looked up, imploring him to understand her confusion and uncertainty. She swallowed and forced her voice to speak. "Mr. Ludlow, I need—"
"Please call me Jonathan when we are alone."
"Jonathan," she breathed, rather liking the way it sounded. "I… I do not know what to think. I do not even know how I should feel. All I had hoped for today was that you would not be distressed on your birthday, and now…" She looked at him, shaking her head once more.
"Now I have asked you to stroll with me, I have taken certain liberties with you, and I have proclaimed my love for you when you had no inclination of my feelings before this moment. Is that what has you in such a stupor?"
Again, all she could do was nod. Could this truly be happening? Her head felt so muddled and cloudy, as though she'd taken a dose of laudanum. Only she was not tired in the least. In fact, she was quite sure she would not sleep a wink this night.
Mr. Ludlow took her cold, limp hands in his and began rubbing life and warmth back into them. "Forgive me for springing this on you so suddenly. I had thought my increased attentions would have prepared you, but I can see they have not. Only tell me this, if you can. Do you care for me enough that you would consider leaving my employ and returning to the Shepherds where you truly belong? You are a lady, my dear. You belong in drawing rooms, not kitchens."
"I assure you, I am no lady, sir. I belong exactly where I am."
"How can you say that when we both know you are a dreadful housekeeper?"
Cora blinked, her eyes widening as his words registered. She pulled her hands free and frowned at him. "How can you say that? I will allow that I was a dreadful housekeeper in the beginning, but I have learned a great deal since that time and am rather proficient at it now."
He pressed his lips together as though attempting to think of a delicate way to refute her words. "I will agree that you are more proficient now than you were, but… well, to be quite frank, my dear, your preserves are still lumpy, your pastries remain far too dry and brittle, and your marketing skills leave much to be desired. I will end up in the poorhouse if you continue to be the purchaser of all supplies. You may have a head for numbers, but you certainly do not have a head for bargaining—or rather, the backbone for it. You are far too kind to wrangle over price."
Cora would not have been more stunned if he had slapped her. "I beg your pardon!"
"That was a compliment, Cora, not a criticism."
A compliment? Had the man gone completely mad? "Obviously you have confused the meanings of those two words. A compliment should serve to please and inspire, not make one angry. That was most certainly not a compliment, sir."
"My name is Jonathan."
"And my name is Mrs. Notley."
He lifted an eyebrow, watching her closely. "You intend to stay on as housekeeper then?"
"Of course I do!" she said, allowing her frustration to get the better of her. "Apparently I have yet to prove what I am capable of, and until I do, I…" She stopped talking, having no idea how to finish that sentence. She would what? Continue to make lumpy preserves? Carry on with her mismanagement of purchasing supplies? Persist in making dry and brittle pastries?
Goodness, he had not painted a very pretty picture of her. No wonder he did not care for paintings with people in them. He'd likely find all sorts of faults with anyone or anything that had the misfortune of being the subject.
"You will what?" he said. "Stubbornly refuse to live up to your potential because I have told you that you were raised to become a lady and not a housekeeper? Is your pride so easily wounded as that?"
Cora glared at him. Easily wounded? How could he call that easy? The man had taken any confidence she had begun to feel these past few weeks and squashed it the way one would a spider. If she had told him that she could manage a fence post better than he managed his staff, would he not also be easily offended? Did he truly expect her to dismiss his many criticisms just like that? It felt like he had taken a beautiful moment and turned a bucketful of water over top, leaving her wet, cold, and not at all happy.
"That is precisely what I intend to do," she answered, for no other reason than to spite him.
His jaw tightened, and his lips pressed into a thin line. "Then you will have to prove yourself in someone else's household."
"What are you saying, sir?"
"As of this moment, you are no longer employed at Tanglewood."
Cora opened her mouth to argue, but she immediately snapped it closed when she realized she had no argument to make. As her employer, he could dismiss her or anyone else whenever he wished. It was his right, the power he held as master of Tanglewood. What could an inept housekeeper say to sway him? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. She could only glare, which she did, and stomp her boots, which she also did as she stormed away, fueled by her anger, frustration, and injured pride.
If she could not prove herself at Tanglewood, she would prove herself someplace else.