Chapter 4
No. 22
The purpose of the agency is not to find a spouse. Everton Ladies will refrain from flirting.
—The Everton Companion
Rules of Conduct
Waking without an aching head and blurry vision was something Markus had only a vague memory of, but the sensation was not at all unpleasant. The sun crested the horizon in pink, orange, purple, and gray, inviting a promising day. He penned a note to Mr. Blunt, his secretary, and had to stop twice due to the shaking in his hands.
A bleary-eyed Watson took it for delivery.
Damned inconvenient having no footmen. It would take over an hour for Watson to ride to the village of Benton, deliver the letter, and ride back. He was getting up in age, and the task should have fallen to a younger man. Watson was also charged with announcing the news of Rosefield hiring maids and footmen. Hopefully, Markus had not chased off all prospects with his behavior.
He penned another note to his sister, Dory. He had much to say, but settled for telling her he was feeling better and hoped she and Thomas were well. He’d post it later or in a few days. No need to overtax Watson by sending him running again the moment he returned.
A high-pitched shriek rent the early morning quiet.
Markus followed the sound to the breakfast room. Mrs. Donnelly was attempting to spoon porridge into Elizabeth’s mouth while Elizabeth screamed with delight over a wooden horse clutched in her hand.
Banging the horse on the tray sent the spoon to the carpet.
With the hint of a smile tugging at her full lips, Phoebe put the newspaper down, reached over, and took the horse away. “Perhaps you might break your fast first, Elizabeth. Then play with your new toy.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes on the horse, standing on the table too far away for her to reach.
“That toy is far from new.” Markus strode through the doorway and picked up the toy. “I spent long hours riding this horse across the African desert and even spanned the wilds of India.”
Whatever protest Elizabeth was going to make vanished as she gaped at him.
Mrs. Donnelly shoveled a spoonful of porridge in before Elizabeth could close her mouth.
Markus held back his laughter. It had been so long since he’d had the urge to laugh, he almost let it out. “If you eat all your breakfast, I shall take you to the library and show you the routes I took on my journeys. Would you like that, Elizabeth?”
Clapping, Elizabeth opened her mouth for more food.
Becca delivered a steaming cup of coffee, its bitter aroma swirling around the breakfast room. Toast, butter, and jam already waited at his place setting.
His stomach grumbled in favor of the fare. “Thank you, Becca.”
Beaming, Becca scurried back to the kitchen.
“Impressive,” Phoebe said, nodding at Elizabeth, who now ate without complaint.
“I loved that horse as a child. Where did you find it?”
She blushed the most stunning peach color. “I stole into your attics last night and found a box of old toys. I thought it might be nice to bring one down for Elizabeth. I would have brought the entire box, but it is too heavy for me to carry. I’m going to ask Watson to get it later today.”
“I will bring it down. Watson has enough to do.” Markus didn’t want Watson injured doing the job of a footman or kitchen boy. Another wave of guilt washed over him. How much danger had he already put his household in? These people were under his care and he had let them down, let himself down. Worst of all, he had let Emma down. The pain lurking in his chest tightened.
Mrs. Donnelly lifted Elizabeth from her chair. “Come now, Miss. We’ll get you cleaned up so you can have a nice visit with his lordship.”
When they had left the room, Phoebe covered his hand with hers. “Whatever you are thinking, you must not punish yourself too severely, Markus. Everything is going to be all right.”
Staring at her tapered fingers and creamy skin where she touched his sun-darkened hand stirred more than his doubts. “Will it?”
Her eyes lit up as the smile spread. “Of course.”
If his heartbeat sounded against the large window overlooking the courtyard, it would not have surprised him. Shaking away his reaction, he pulled his hand away. “I had thought the entire situation hopeless.”
“There is always hope.”
Bells tinkled in the hall. Honoria breezed into the breakfast room, a chain of tiny bells on each wrist. Stopping, she lifted her arms and gave them a good shake in case anyone hadn’t heard her approach. “Don’t you just love the sound of bells?”
“Good morning, Lady Chervil. Did you sleep well?” Phoebe folded the newspaper and handed it to Markus.
Honoria flounced to the table, her frilly morning dress billowing around her. “Like a dream. Oh, that reminds me. I had such a wonderful dream about fields of flowers crushed under the massive feet of elephants.”
There was something perfect about Honoria’s timing and even her ridiculous dialog that made Markus wonder if she had been standing outside the room listening. Had she burst in on the scene to rescue them from the malaise of the conversation or did she possess a gift for arriving at just the right moment? Either way, he was glad for the distraction. “Have you seen an elephant, Lady Chervil?”
“Oh, no. Now you have done it.” Phoebe muffled the words with her napkin.
“I heard that, Phoebe Hallsmith.” Honoria gave Phoebe a stern look, which lasted half a second before she brightened and turned her attention back to Markus. “I traveled to India with my second husband, Whittaker Moorewhistle. He was an emissary to the crown. The first time I saw one of the lumbering beasts it was sent to carry us from the border to our home in India. I thought, surely this animal will kill me. But Kesavan was a sweet girl and would not hurt anyone. Not true of all elephants, my lord. Some are quite dangerous. Whittaker screamed down all of India on the journey. Not much of a man, if you must know. Terrified of everything. However, I loved the ride and made similar trips with my servants to shop and see the country.” She nattered on about India, elephants, Bengal tigers, and rhinoceros until distracted by the arrival of a plate of food.
The sausage on her plate made his toast seem a paltry fare. His stomach grumbled at the rich spicy steam wafting from her plate of meat and coddled eggs. “Becca, is there more of that in your kitchen?”
A wide smile spread across Becca’s face. “You always ask for coffee and toast, my lord.”
Normally he would be nursing a headache and his stomach would be in knots. “I find I am hungry this morning.”
“I’ll bring you a plate, my lord.” Becca bounced out of the room.
Markus opened the paper, but only for a moment before Phoebe’s staring drew his attention. “Miss Hallsmith, you are staring. May I help you with something?”
“I am just happy to see that your appetite has returned.” She sipped her coffee.
Honoria gazed up from her plate. “Perhaps yours will return as well.”
Taking a bite of her toast, Phoebe narrowed her eyes on Honoria. “I eat plenty.”
With a grumbled word, Honoria returned her attention to the food.
Intrigued by the information and relationship between the ladies, Markus decided it better to change the subject. “I heard you sent word to the village for footmen and maids?”
Checking a gold watch hanging from a chain around her neck, she practically jumped from her chair. “Yes. I have a lot to do before they start arriving. I must find Mrs. Donnelly.”
“Will you find a nanny in Benton as well, Miss Hallsmith?” Markus didn’t know why the notion turned his stomach.
Shaking her head, Phoebe stacked her dirty plate and silver, folded her napkin and looked as if she might clear the table too. She touched the edge of the plate, took a breath, and left the mess for Becca to clear. “Probably not, my lord. I will have to advertise for a reputable nanny with references. It will not be as easy as replacing a scullery maid.”
“I see.” Though he didn’t. How hard could it be to find a woman to care for Elizabeth?
She brushed out her skirts. “What are your plans for the day, my lord?”
“I plan to meet with my secretary. He should return with Watson this morning.”
With a nod and a curtsy, she dashed off in search of Mrs. Donnelly.
Honoria popped the last of her coddled eggs in her mouth and watched him.
“Miss Hallsmith is quite tenacious, my lady.” Taking the newspaper, he opened it to a headline of the goings on among the ton in London.
“She is an angel disguised as a hoyden, my lord. You would do well to remember that.” Honoria patted her lips with her napkin and pressed the cloth next to her plate.
“I do not have the slightest idea what you mean. She is a bit bossy, but hardly a hoyden. I have not been in her company long enough to determine if she is an angel.”
Eyes narrowed, Honoria sat forward and propped one finger on the table between them. “I am going to tell you about her, not because you deserve to know, but because she will never tell you herself.”
Part of him wanted to run from the intensity of Honoria’s gaze, but curiosity kept him rooted to his chair.
“Phoebe gave up her best chances of finding a husband by going to Scotland to care for her grandmother, Lady Gower. No one expected the old woman to live more than a few months after her apoplexy. Phoebe would not hear of it. She worked like a dog to teach her grandmother how to walk and talk again. Nothing can stop Phoebe Hallsmith once she sets her mind to a thing. All the doctors said her ladyship was a lost cause. I know Phoebe’s mother quite well. She indulged Phoebe because she thought her mother would die in a few months and she would have many years to marry her daughter off to some rich Englishman. Despite the predictions of several doctors, and through Phoebe’s determination and Lady Gower’s will, she recovered almost entirely before her heart gave out. Lucretia should have been thrilled to gain five additional years with her mother, but she only complained about an unmarried daughter. It might have all turned out right, if she married in Scotland. She was engaged, you know?”
Stomach knotted, Markus shook his head.
“That idiot Durnst broke her heart with the things he said and still she stayed in Scotland and ignored all the rumors.”
“What rumors?” He shouldn’t have asked, but he was so engrossed in her description of Phoebe, he longed to know more.
Snapped out of the moment, Honoria sat back and blinked. “That is Phoebe’s story to tell. I am no gossip. I only tell you about what she did for Lady Gower because you should know joining Everton Domestic Society, and therefore helping you, she gives up a lot.”
“What are you talking about?”
Rolling her eyes, she drew closer. “At her age, her time to find a husband was wasted on a scoundrel in Scotland and her kindness to her grandmother. Lucretia was determined to take her directly to London and pray for a nice man to fall in love with her before she is put on the shelf for life.” She wiped a tear from her papery cheek. “Phoebe could not take the constant badgering from her mother and eldest brother, Ford. She left the country home and joined Everton against her families wishes. They have not spoken to her since. It’s a shame really. Phoebe deserves to be worshiped and adored.”
“I did not ask her to come here.”
Honoria chuckled. “No. Of course you did not. Your mother insisted that she was the best person for the job. And for Phoebe’s part, she saw a need and will do whatever she can to fix this mess you are in. There is no stopping her now that she’s set her mind to it. I learned long ago, to adore this drive in her. I wish Lucretia was as understanding. She threw a fit when Phoebe said she was moving to London to take employment. Any other woman would have cowered under the wrath of Lucretia Hallsmith, but Phoebe smiled and continued to pack her things as if her mother were singing a lullaby rather than screaming down the house.”
“I should send her away. My problems are my own. It was never my intention to cause trouble in the Hallsmith home. I have known the family all my life. Miles and I attended school together.” Even as he said the words, he knew he didn’t want her to leave. The house wasn’t so hard to be in, with her there. He had to get his finances in order and if he let his mind linger on Emma’s death, he would have to leave again or drink her away. Phoebe and Honoria took his mind off his grief. It was selfish, but he wanted her to stay.
Standing, Honoria fluffed her skirts. “Just do as she says and stay the course, my lord. It would take an act of God to pull her away from this house until she sees her mission through.”
Despite his worry over Phoebe’s fate when she left Rosefield, he nodded his agreement rather than voice his concerns.
Becca arrived with a scrumptious plate of food.
Honoria patted her stomach. “I am going to walk in your wild gardens. It will be a shame when Phoebe hires a gardener. I love how natural they are with no one tending them.” She flounced out of the room.
* * * *
Markus’s secretary, Jared Blunt, examined the office as if he’d stepped through the gates of hell. It was the first time in weeks Markus had not stormed out of the room and told the poor man to go to blazes. The papers, picked up by the maid and stacked haphazardly, had Blunt huffing and restacking. “I do not understand how this could have happened, my lord. I had everything in perfect order for you to go through. These piles were perfect.”
He’d repeated the same thing a dozen times already and Markus was getting quite sick of hearing it.
Markus longed for a just a sip of brandy to take away his care over Blunt’s insidious complaining. “I’ll show you exactly how it happened, Blunt. Someone annoyed me as you are doing now, I picked up a pile and…” Markus rained papers down over his desk and Blunt.
“My lord, have you lost your mind?”
Rubbing his forehead, Markus thought the same thing. “Perhaps. I apologize for that.” It was all he could do to keep from laughing over the distraught expression on Blunt’s face. At least he hadn’t punched him in that long, pointed nose or blackened his eyes. Some paper on the floor was easily fixed.
“Maybe you should go regain your composure outside the office, my lord. I will put this all back in order and we can reconvene in an hour to go over the accounts.”
“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.