Chapter 7
No. 11
Everton Ladies are inconspicuous.
—The Everton Companion
Rules of Conduct
How could one person become so familiar and necessary in such a short time? Phoebe ran back to her room and bolted the door. Ordering her heart to slow down did no good. Her skin tingled with the possibilities. He had only kissed her nose. An innocent peck, but there had been more in his eyes, and she wanted all that was within those green depths. Desire of that magnitude was new and terrifying.
No amount of denial would change the way she yearned for Markus. If he had taken her in his arms in the nursery, she would have let him kiss her and maybe more. Goodness, she had lost her mind. It wasn’t as if she’d never been kissed. Gavin had kissed her many times. It had been pleasant, but nothing to warrant so much attention.
Somehow, even though Markus had not taken advantage of her, she knew his kisses would be different. Pressing her fisted hands between her breasts, she scolded, “Enough.”
Trudging across the room, Phoebe berated herself for being such a fool. He only needed her to get his house back in order. Markus Flammel was a viscount and one day would be an earl. His sons would be titled. He would never have any interest in Miss Phoebe Hallsmith. She was disowned and disinherited, not to mention how disliked her brother Ford was amongst any good society. Nothing would change that, and it was just as well. He was Emma’s husband, and anything more than friendship was not acceptable. She threw back the covers and climbed into bed.
When she’d seen him watching Elizabeth sleep, joy flooded her as it never had before. Trying to push the memory away, she closed her eyes, but it only made the image more vivid. Even wrinkled and dusty from travel, the sight of him relieved her. Gavin had been out of her life for over a year, and she never missed him as she had missed Markus after one day. And she had nearly married Gavin.
A lifetime of Gavin ordering her around and reminding her how thankful she should be to have married him. A girl in her position should have been thrilled with a wealthy gentleman’s attention. He had said those things more than once, but the day he ended their engagement he drove his point home by adding that she did not appreciate him. He rescinded his offer of marriage and added that she was incapable of any deep feelings. “A cold fish” had been his final insult.
Lucky for her, he had no honor, or she might be married to him and miserable the rest of her life. Though a lifetime of spinsterhood did not make her heart sing, either. At least if she had married Gavin, she would be cared for and could have children to dote on. After a time, he would have found a mistress and left her and the babies in peace. It might have been all right.
Phoebe pounded her fist into her pillow and turned over in search of a comfortable position.
At dawn she gave up, washed her face, and dressed.
A walk in the cool morning air was what she needed. Leaves tumbled around her, blowing in the breeze and falling to the long grass. She pitied the new gardener’s job of cleaning all of this up. It would be sad to lose the little wilderness, but a fine English garden would take its place. She walked the path while the sun warmed the Earth. The uncertainty of the night before eased and normalcy returned to Phoebe. She had a job to do at Rosefield. That was all. Once she had completed the task, she would leave and probably never see Markus again. Worrying about his feelings for her was idiotic. He could never care for her, and rightfully so.
She stopped at the clearing, closed her eyes, and turned her face to the sun.
“Am I disturbing you?” Jared cut into her peace.
She startled, but recovered. “Not at all, Mr. Blunt. You are here early. We have not even broken our fast yet. Do you have an early appointment with his lordship?”
Kicking the dirt from the path, he stepped closer. “I desired to see you before I get started with his lordship’s business.”
Dread rooted in the pit of her stomach. “Oh, what did you need to see me about?”
He offered his arm, and with no polite way to decline, she took it. Markus had spent months ruining his health and he still felt sturdier than Jared. Threading her hand through his elbow revealed the thin softness of a man who spent all day behind a desk. His pasty skin another sign he rarely took to the outdoors, she wondered at his hardship in searching her out.
While Markus filled her senses with spices and masculinity, Jared reeked of ink and the hair tonic he used to slick back his brown locks. “I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed working with you the last two days. You and I make a good team.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your help. You are very organized.” It was the best she could come up with in way of a compliment.
Puffing up like a pigeon, Jared’s grin spread wide. “I had the very same thought about you, Miss Hallsmith. You are meticulous and organized, rare virtues in a woman. Most women are so frivolous, but not you. You have purpose and determination.”
For Jared, these compliments were likened to another man saying her eyes were like the moon and her skin like silk. They did not have the same effect. “Thank you, Mr. Blunt. I cannot remember anyone ever saying such things to me.”
Leading her back toward the house, he cleared his throat, then stopped. “I would like to ask permission to court you, Miss Hallsmith. Whom should I query?”
Processing the question took more than a comfortable silence. “One would think you would ask me.”
Laughter, more like grinding teeth, tumbled from him. “Of course, but I meant should I seek permission from your father?”
“My father is dead. You could petition my brother Ford, the viscount of Thornbury. I wish you luck with that. You see, I am disowned.” Telling him not to bother sat at the tip of her tongue, but the prospect of a lifetime without marriage or children replaced a curt reply with the facts.
“Disowned? Well, that might change in time. Yes, Ford Hallsmith. I met his lordship once at a town meeting. Fine fellow. I will make time to see him as soon as my duties allow.” Another strike against Jared if he’d met Ford and enjoyed any part of the experience.
At least she was reprieved from more courting for the moment. “You will let me know how that meeting goes?”
Jared cocked his head and stopped. “You will know by the fact that I have started courting you. Was I not clear in my desire?”
“Very clear.”
Smile returned, he escorted her into the house. “I have work to do. You can manage from here?”
“I believe I can get myself to the breakfast room. Thank you, Mr. Blunt.”
Nothing about him was appealing as he straightened his bony shoulders, tugged his ill-fitted jacket, and strode away toward the office.
Markus sat next to Elizabeth, when Phoebe arrived and took a plate from the sideboard. Food had been laid out and the savory spice of sausage filled the air. “Good morning.”
Elizabeth lifted a piece of sausage in the air and laughed before accepting a spoon of porridge from Mrs. Donnelly.
Phoebe’s stomach rebelled at anything heavy. Taking some toast from the array of choices, she lamented the coddled eggs. She sat at the other end of the table and spread jam on her bread.
“You should eat more, Miss Hallsmith,” Markus said.
“I am not hungry.” Tearing a morsel of bread free, even that didn’t appeal.
Frowning much like Honoria did when she refused to eat, he stared down the table. “Regardless, you should eat more. Have some eggs and sausage or I will have Becca bring you some porridge.”
The servant’s door opened and Becca brought a cup of coffee. “I’ll run down and get you some now, Miss.”
“I am really not hungry.”
Becca pulled a stern look. “We do not let the little one leave the table until she’s eaten something. You want to set a good example, don’t you?”
“That is playing dirty. Bring the porridge.” Phoebe laughed and accepted the newspaper from Markus.
With a clap, Becca charged out of the breakfast room and down the servants’ stairs.
“And look how happy you have made Becca. You should be pleased.” Markus drank his coffee to hide his grin.
There was something very familiar and nice about their breaking their fast together. Almost as if they were the family she yearned for. Too bad none of it was real, which reminded her… “Mr. Blunt met me in the garden. He is already waiting for you in your office.”
“Why was he in the garden?” All humor drained from Markus’s face.
Elizabeth whimpered at his sharp tone.
He patted her knee. “I am not cross, Elizabeth. Eat.”
Looking from Markus to Phoebe, she took a breath and went back to her food when Mrs. Donnelly prodded her with a spoonful.
Phoebe longed to tell him it was none of his business. “He was looking for me. I took a walk this morning.”
“You should not be alone in the garden with Jared Blunt.”
It was hard to argue with that. “As I said, he sought me out. He intends to meet with my brother to ask permission to court me.”
The spoon clattered in the bowl. With an apologetic look, Mrs. Donnelly picked it up. “He is a fine catch, Miss Hallsmith.”
The color of Markus’s face was somewhere between the roses out front and the burgundy carpet in the front parlor. “I see. You told him you would court him. I am happy for you both.”
“Actually, he never asked me. I suppose he assumed I would want to court him. I’m sure he thinks himself a fine catch, just as Mrs. Donnelly said.”
He put down his cup with a snick in the saucer. “The rest of your life with a person who brings no joy is a long time, Miss Hallsmith.” Placing his napkin on the table, he stood, then bowed and left the room.
* * * *
Phoebe accepted that Markus was avoiding her. He had postponed several appointments to go over the staffing options. After a full week, all she had managed was to bring back the few servants fired by Markus and willing to come back. At least they had a footman, under-gardener, stable boy, and a scullery maid. Those only because they had family close and were unwilling to leave the area for employment.
A letter from London promised that a nanny would arrive soon. Phoebe knocked on the office door but pushed through before anyone could tell her to go away. “I need some of your time, my lord.”
Sitting behind his desk with Jared hovering over his left shoulder, he looked up. “Can it wait?”
“It has waited a week. I have a life I would like to get back to. If you would?” She sounded more like herself and the sound was enough to make it real. Skulking and jumping any time she thought Markus might be present was not like her, and she didn’t like it. Doing what she came for and getting back to London was her plan, and she would see it through.
“Mr. Blunt, can you excuse us?” Voice even, Markus stared her in the eyes.
Deep creases formed around Jared’s mouth as he nodded, stared at Phoebe, and left the room.
“If I was too forceful, I apologize, but you have been putting me off for several days.” She kept her shoulders back and looked him in the eyes.
“Yes, and you have a life to get back to. So you said. Mr. Blunt will be quite happy to be a large part of that life as well. Will you court here in the country or go to London and see how he stacks up to the other available men of the season?” Markus patted a stack of papers into a neat pile, eased them to the side of the desk, and leaned back without taking his gaze from hers.
Phoebe resorted to the Everton company line. “Markus, I am here to do a job and that is all. Whatever Mr. Blunt intends is of little interest and none of your business. I want to do what I said I would then get out of your house. You said yourself that you wanted me gone. You wrote to my brother and demanded he take me away. Why is it such a shock to you that I have plans to leave? I work for Everton Domestic Society. I take an assignment, complete it, and move on. It is what I do.”
Jaw ticking, he closed his eyes. When he opened them the fire was gone. “What would you like to go over?”
She had crushed the nanny’s letter in her fist and smoothed it out. It was a good thing the rest of her notes were protected in a leather portfolio or everything would be a mess. “I have had a letter from a reputable nanny. She sent her credentials. Perhaps we can check her references and offer her the position.”
Taking the letter from her, he offered her a seat. His eyes darted across the page before he rose, rounded the desk and sat in the chair next to her. “This Mrs. Horst sounds qualified. What are your concerns?”
The letter expounded upon Mrs. Horst’s many achievements as a nanny in four well-to-do homes. “Why does she have no reference letters included? Why did she work in four homes?”
He read the letter again. “Perhaps she neglected to ask for a reference letter. Nannies change homes when the child grows, and in the case of boys, they go off to school.”
“True. Perhaps I am being too picky.” The wording of the letter and tone still didn’t sit well with Phoebe. She couldn’t put her finger on what the problem was.
“In my opinion Mrs. Horst will suit.” He passed the letter back.
Taking it, she sighed. Once she’d put it at the bottom of her papers, she said. “I will write to her immediately.”
“If it will make you feel better, write to Lady Wortripple. That was Mrs. Horst’s last post. Perhaps that will ease your concerns.”
Phoebe made a note to write both letters and post them immediately. “I have hired back a few of the staff, but most have found other positions.”
“I would expect so.” Looking at the short list, he frowned.
Wishing she could give him good news that would make him smile, she pressed on. “Here is the list of potential servants. Watson and Mrs. Donnelly gave me the posts and the numbers, but if you want to change anything, please let me know.”
“No. They know best.” He was all business. None of the intimacy they had shared remained while they spoke of staffing the house.
Becca brought tea and lemon cake, and they talked through the meal, discussing each candidate at length. By week’s end, they would have most of the positions filled.
“Shall I hire you a valet or would you prefer to do that?” It would have been difficult for Phoebe to manage without Arwen. Perhaps it was different for men, but her brothers had employed valets for as long as she could remember.
“I hope Blakely will return. I have written a letter to that effect.” Markus ran his hand through his hair.
Urged to fix the part he left sticking up, she fisted her hands to keep them in her lap. “That must have been difficult.”
“The mistakes I have made require amends.” He shrugged. “It is not pleasant to apologize, but it is necessary.”
“On that same subject, there is the matter of Duck.” She cringed. The last time the groundskeeper’s name came up, Markus went into a rage.
Fire flashed in his eyes, but vanished a moment later. “What about him?”
“I went to the stables to see him yesterday, and he is quite vexed with you. He refuses to take his salary and wishes to be replaced.”
“And you do not think we should replace him?” Resignation rang in his voice and he held his head in both hands, elbows on his knees.
Even though he had done this to himself, she ached to ease his discomfort. She touched his hand, the silky hair poking through his warm fingers. Goose bumps ran up her arm and continued until every inch of her skin was sensitized. “It would be even more disruptive to lose him. I am told, despite his rather caustic demeanor, he is very good at his job.”
Markus turned his hand and took hold of hers. Looking up, his eyes filled with emotion, which she refused to put a label on. If someone would look at her that way for the rest of her life, she could be content, maybe even happy. Time stood still and the only existing world was in that office wrapped around the two of them. Her heart pounded out the rhythm of the universe.
A knock on the door broke the spell.
Pulling his hand away, he said, “I will speak to him.”
It took a force of will to get her pulse to slow and her breath to return to normal. She swallowed down desire. “Thank you, Markus.”
Another knock, this one less forceful.
“Come in.”
Honoria popped her head around the door, smiled, and floated into the room followed by Jared Blunt. She contemplated the tea tray, then Phoebe, and frowned. “I see you have had your tea. Phoebe, you look about to drop. Should you not go and rest until dinner?”
Markus sat up straight and stared at her. “Are you unwell?”
“I did not sleep last night. I am fine.”
A grunt sounded from Jared. “You should take a draft if you are not sleeping.”
“I do not care for the way they make me feel.” This was not a conversation she wished to have with Jared. “I will go up and rest for a while, if we are finished here, my lord.”
He stood with her and took her hand before bowing over it. “We are. Thank you, Miss Hallsmith.”
Determined to continue, Jared said, “Feel? They make you sleep.”
Phoebe turned to Honoria. “Will you accompany me upstairs?”
Giving Jared a stern look, Honoria nodded. “Of course.”
“My lord, you should insist she take a sleeping draft.”
Phoebe bit the inside of her cheek to keep from responding. Who did Jared Blunt think he was? He had no right to force his will on her.
“Miss Hallsmith is a grown woman. She need not take advice from you or me, Mr. Blunt.” Markus’s firm, even voice followed her out the door.
His words rang in her head long after she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. If she were smart, she would pack her things and leave Rosefield immediately. She’d come to help Markus and Elizabeth. Developing feelings for him had not been part of the plan. No. She was stronger than that. It had been a long time since she had been courted, and she’d lost her head. That was all. It was ridiculous to consider loving Markus Flammel. He was Emma’s husband, and Emma was her best friend.
A small, distant voice called back, Emma is gone.
Sitting up, she shooed away the unpleasant voice. Dead or alive, she loved Emma, and more importantly, Markus loved Emma. She was not worthy of him anyway, so the point was moot. All she had to do was finish her task and go home. Once the staff was back and working and a nanny was hired, she would have no reason to stay at Rosefield and she would never see Markus again. In a week or two this would all be a distant memory.