He turned his attention to the housekeeper. “This is Miss Tabetha Barkley.” He leveled a teasing grin on Tabby. “She goes by Tabby.”
Tabby’s cheeks warmed as she curtsied to the housekeeper. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Miller.”
“Likewise, though, I confess to being confused.” Mrs. Miller turned back to Thomas. “You said you had orders from the duchess.”
“Ah, yes.” Thomas tugged at the bottom of his waistcoat. “Her Grace has sent me to instruct you to give Tabby a position within the household.”
Mrs. Miller arched a brow as she turned her attention back to Tabby. “Did Her Grace have a specific position in mind?”
“I do not believe so,” Tabby said, her voice shaking slightly. By the way the housekeeper stared at her, Tabby could not discern her thoughts. She desperately hoped the woman was not upset.
Tabby shuffled her feet on the stone floor as she waited for Mrs. Miller to speak again.
Thomas took a step forward. “I am certain the duchess meant to leave that decision to you, Mrs. Miller.”
“Very well.” The housekeeper nodded. “I will take things from here. Thank you, Thomas.”
Thomas dipped his head, pivoted, and moved toward the door. “Tabby?”
Heart pounding, she turned to him. “Yes?”
“Welcome to Hartland Abbey,” Thomas said, his green eyes bright and a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Thank you.” Tabby smiled back.
He hesitated in the doorway, his large body filling the space. “I’ll see you around.”
Tabby’s cheeks burned. “I look forward to it.”
“Now, off with you.” Mrs. Miller shooed Thomas away and closed the door behind him.
Tabby’s stomach twisted as her nerves surged. Something about the footman had put her at ease. Now that he was gone, and she found herself alone with the housekeeper, her pulse was pounding. Foolish to be sure, but she could scarcely help it.
Mrs. Miller turned back to Tabby. “Let us sit,” she said as she moved to take a chair near the stone hearth.
Tabby joined her, then folded her hands in her lap.
“Tell me a bit about yourself and what brought you to Hartland Abbey so I might choose an appropriate position for you?” Mrs. Miller stared at her, her gaze searching.
“Might I first offer an apology. I know this is not the conventional way of things, and for that I am sorry,” Tabby said.
Mrs. Miller waved a hand and smiled. “Think nothing of it.”
Relief swam through Tabby as she began conveying her story. She told the housekeeper all about her life before Mother’s passing, then gave her more recent history. By the time Tabby finished, she found herself at ease and full of relief.
“I see.” Mrs. Miller rubbed her thumb over her lower lip. “It pains me to say that I do not have a position befitting of you. You are educated and well-spoken. However, we do not require a governess, housekeeper, or even a lady’s maid.”
“I am not above serving as a scullery or laundry maid,” Tabby said, panic welling in her chest. Surely the housekeeper would not turn her away. Not when she’d been sent by the duchess. She quickly added, “Even a maid of all work would suit.”
Mrs. Miller cringed, her brows drawing together and eyes narrowing. “I would not bring you so low.” She shook her head. “You will serve as a housemaid. When we have visiting ladies in need, I will call on you to serve as a lady’s maid. Doing so will fetch you more coin in the way of tips.”
Tabby’s shoulders relaxed. It was more than she had hoped for. “Thank you.”
“Do not thank me yet.” Mrs. Miller shook her head. “You will work long hours, and the work is often hard. Among other things, you will be charged with carrying coal and water pails. Scrubbing and polishing floors and banisters, as well as mending. I will pair you with an established housemaid until you learn your duties.”
“I am not afraid of hard work. As for long hours, I am used to that,” Tabby said, eager to get started and more than a bit relieved at her turn of luck.
“Very well. You will have the last Sunday of every month off, and evenings off on the remaining Sundays. Your pay is eight pounds a month, and I will provide you a dress, apron, and mob cap, as well as a place to sleep in the servant’s quarters.”
Tabby nodded her understanding. “May I thank you now?”
“There is no need.” Mrs. Miller smiled, then stood. “Come along, let’s get you settled.”
There was a decided lightness to Tabby as she followed the housekeeper out into the corridor. For the first time in months, she believed that all would be well. She’d have food in her belly and money to spare. Between her wages and the rent she would collect on her cottage, Tabby could save enough to retire and live comfortably for the remainder of her life.
She’d wager it would take five years at the most. That would make her twenty-seven. Still young enough to marry and have a family should the right gentleman come along.
Thomas’s image spring to mind with the thought, and Tabby shook her head. Now was not the time for woolgathering and romantic fantasies.
She had to stay focused in order to ensure her future.
Chapter 3
Thomas Kingston sat in the hayloft, his legs dangling over the edge. He often ventured out here when his work was done. Something about the stables and night air relaxed him, but more so, he looked forward to spending time with Nash.
The two were fast friends ever since their first meeting, but since Nash was a groom and Thomas worked in the house, so they did not get many opportunities to spend time in each other’s company.
Thomas spotted Nash strolling down the stall row. He scooped a pile of hay into his hand, then dropped it when Nash stepped beneath him.
“Hey!” Nash glanced up, scowling. “I should have known.” He shook his head. “Don’t you have work to do?”
Thomas shook his head. “I’m done for the night.” He slid from the ledge and dropped to the ground beneath. Straightening, he dusted off his breeches and jacket, then turned his attention to Nash. “You?”
“I’ve one more horse to see to.” He nodded down the length of the stable to where the grooming area was. “Give me a hand.”
Thomas walked beside Nash down the row of stables and neighing horses. When they turned the corner into the extensive grooming area, Nash retrieved two brushes then tossed one to Thomas. Thomas snatched it from the air with a grin. “Have you seen the new maid?”
Nash moved to the horse. “I didn’t know there was one.”
“She arrived yesterday. Tabby’s her name.” Thomas smoothed his brush down the horse’s neck.
“You sound smitten,” Nash teased as he worked.
Thomas considered his friend’s observation. He was not. An image of Tabby’s bright blue eyes and captivating mouth flared through his mind. Perhaps he was a bit smitten. He met his friend’s curious gaze. “So what if I am. She’s a beauty. I daresay any man with a brain would be half in love at first sight.”
“Then, I will have to meet her straight away,” Nash smirked as he stroked the brush over the mare’s shoulder.
“Or you could take my word for it,” Thomas said, suddenly ill at ease over the prospect of Nash coming anywhere near Tabby.
Nash shook his head. “Afraid not, pal. I have to judge for myself.”
A spike of jealousy pierced Thomas, and he scowled. “Very well, but don’t go getting romantic notions.”
Looking affronted, Nash placed his hand over his chest. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“The devil, you wouldn’t! You chase every skirt you see.”
Genuine hurt flashed in Nash’s gaze. “Never the ones my friends have their hearts set on.” He smoothed his hand down the horse’s flank. “Come to think of it, never the ones who work at Hartland Abbey.”
“I’m sorry.” Thomas strolled across the grooming area to place his brush back in the bin Nash had retrieved it fr
om. He turned back to his friend and added, “Clearly, the woman has gotten to me.”
“Forget it,” Nash said as he untethered the mare. He began leading the horse toward the stall row, then looked at Thomas. “You would do well to stay clear of the chit too. Unless you plan to marry her.”
Marry. Thomas pondered the idea. He wasn’t opposed to marriage, but neither did he have the inclination to bind himself. He strolled across the grooming area and fell into step beside Nash. “I know what I am doing.”
“Says every man before his downfall.” Nash chuckled.
Thomas scowled. “There is no harm in flirting.”
“Unless your flirting goes too far, and it is bound too in this case.”
“What a fine thing to say.” Thomas shook his head.
Nash paused before a stall and swung the gate open. “I am trying to look out for you. We both know it is a bad idea to become involved with other servants. Especially a woman who works inside the house. Marriage is difficult for those in service, and affairs are forbidden.”
Thomas leaned against a nearby post. He’d not come out here to get lectured. Odd that Nash would even do so. He was as wild and reckless as they came. In fact, his words were downright patronizing. Thomas leaned his head back against the smooth wood and said, “This conversation bores me.”
Nash latched the stall gate, then turned to Thomas. “Just so.”
Thomas held up his hand. “I’m for bed. Goodnight.” He started toward the exit.
“Or you could come to the village with me. Find another pretty girl to clear your head,” Nash called after him. “One who will not bring trouble your way.”
Thomas turned back. “I’m afraid not. I have to escort Lady Ann on a morning outing. It’s a frightful enough task without being hungover and tired.”
“I can well imagine, and I do not envy you that.” Nash chuckled as he waved goodbye to Thomas.
Thomas stepped out into the night, then drug a deep breath of fresh air into his lungs. Usually, he would regret not going with Nash. Perhaps even bemoan that he had to get a full night’s sleep. For some untold reason, he did not mind at all this time.
Maybe Nash was right that Thomas needed to clear his head, but he doubted a village girl would help. Furthermore, a village chit held no appeal. But the warmth of his bed, now that was a different story. Yes, a good night’s sleep would set him to rights.
As Thomas neared the back servant’s entrance to the Abbey, a shadow caught his eye. He stilled to peer through the darkness. A woman. He took a few long strides, then looked closer. “Tabby.” Her name left his mouth before he could think about it.
She turned, her own gaze narrowing as she struggled to see through the veil of night. Thomas could tell the moment that recognition dawned, for a smile tugged at her lips. “Good evening, Thomas.”
He closed the distance between them, his gaze drawn to her chest. She had her fingers wrapped around a charm hanging from a thin gold chain. “What is that?” Thomas asked, curious if the thing held any significance.
“What?” Tabby asked.
Thomas nodded toward her chest, and she stilled her fingers before slowly dropping her hands to her sides. “A gift from my mother,” she said.
Thomas apprised the gold heart locket, his gaze being drawn further down to the place where the heart’s tip led to the valley of Tabby’s breasts. His groin tightened as he beheld the perfection found there. Two creamy mounds with a deep valley between. He’d wager her breasts would fit perfectly in his hands.
Nash’s warnings galloped through Thomas’s mind. He should go—now—before he did something stupid. Turn and walk away without another word. He most certainly should not move closer to her. Thomas took a step back. He could not allow himself to be dragged into trouble by a pretty face and perfect breasts.
Dammit, he was a man capable of self-control. He may not be willing to sacrifice himself at the alter based on a woman’s looks, but he was not afraid to get to know her. Perhaps she was as pleasant on the inside as she was on the outside? Maybe he would do well to marry her?
“She gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday. I often fiddle with it when I think of her,” Tabby said, a slight tremble in her voice.
Thomas drug his gaze back to hers. “You must love her a great deal.”
“I do, and on nights like this, I miss her fiercely.” Tabby angled her head, looking up at the sky. “Mama had a fondness for summer nights.”
“Had?” Thomas asked.
Tabby nodded. “She passed away six months ago.”
Thomas’s chest clenched at the moisture he saw gathering in Tabby’s eyes. He stepped closer, placing his arm around her narrow shoulders and drawing her close. He wanted to ask a dozen questions and longed to kiss away her sadness. Instead, he said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
As bad as he wanted to kiss her, he would not take advantage of a grieving woman.
Chapter 4
Two nights later, Tabby knelt on the floor beside another housemaid, Ellen Clark. They scrubbed the dining room floor with horsehair brushes as they chatted. The housekeeper had charged Ellen with helping Tabby acclimate to her new role as a housemaid, and they were becoming fast friends. As it happened, Ellen was the same age as Tabby at two and twenty.
Ellen dipped her brush into the scalding water bucket, then cringed. “I don’t mind confessing that scrubbing floors is my least favorite task.” She glanced behind them at the gleaming expanse of previously scrubbed flooring and smiled. “But I find great joy in the end result.”
Tabby took a moment to stretch her hand as she replied, “I rather enjoy the work.” Her fingers were cramping, and her skin chafed and red from the scalding water, but she’d not complain. In truth, she found something relaxing about scrubbing. Perhaps the repetitive movement of swirling and pushing the brush over the floor?
Regardless, she preferred the task to many others, such as laying fires and emptying chamber pots. The day had been long and filled with work. She was pleased to end it with such a menial task as floor scrubbing.
“You cannot mean that,” Ellen said as she brought her brush back to the floor.
“But I do.” Tabby grinned. “It is a mindless task that allows me to think about other things.”
Ellen arched a brow. “Such as?”
“Nothing too important.” Tabby sighed. “Just whatever comes to mind.” She dipped her brush back into the pail and smiled. “Sometimes I daydream about the future. Other times, I speculate on the present, or simply think about what else I must accomplish. You know, that sort of stuff.”
“I confess to daydreaming as well,” Ellen said as she knelt over the floor, scrubbing her brush in small circles near the entranceway. “In my imagination, I can make anything come true. Sometimes I get swept off my feet by a dashing gentleman. Other times, I inherit from a distant relative, one I didn’t know I had and become a lady, or at the least very wealthy.” She laughed, still scrubbing as she turned her gaze on Tabby. “What do you dream of?”
Tabby sighed as she dropped her brush into the bucket and stood. Before Tabby could speak, the sound of footfalls captured their attention. The two of them looked toward the door, and Tabby’s breath caught, for her most recent daydream was strolling toward her.
Thomas strode directly over to her, then smiled. “Good evening, Miss Barkley,” he said, then nodded to Ellen, “and to you as well.”
Ellen nodded. “Good evening.”
Tabby smiled back at him. “Indeed.” She reached for the bucket handle and hefted the pail from the floor. Water sloshed with the movement, and she cringed as she glanced down, hoping she’d not made a mess.
“Allow me.” Thomas took the bucket from her.
“Thank you, but there is no need for you to do my work.” Tabby grabbed for the pail, but Thomas moved it out of her reach.
Ellen came forward, holding her pail toward him. “Nonsense. If he wishes to help, then we shall let him.” She waited for T
homas to accept her burden, then turned a grin on Tabby.
“Very well,” Tabby said. “Though I insist on accompanying you.”
Thomas nodded. “I would offer my arm,” he glanced at the water-filled buckets he held, “if I could.”
“How gallant,” Ellen said. “I’m afraid I am to bone-weary to join the two of you.” She stepped around them, then pivoted back. “I will see you later,” she said to Tabby, a mischievous glint in her soft gray eyes. Ellen winked, then sauntered away.
Tabby could not help but wonder what her friend was on about. Had she guessed at Tabby’s daydream? Perhaps she had seen something in Tabby’s expression when Thomas approached them? Or maybe she’d seen something in his?
Tabby slanted her gaze toward him as they made their way down the corridor. Did he fancy her? Her cheeks warmed at the thought, her pulse increasing. She had to stop woolgathering. He most certainly did not have designs on her. Even if he did, there would be nothing for it.
She had a plan. A solid one that she meant to see through to the end. Nowhere in her plan did she give herself leave to indulge in a romance while the duke employed her. She could ill afford to consider such a thing, let alone do so. Servants did not fall in love and marry. Not maids, at any rate. Doing so would cost Tabby her position.
“How are you getting on?” Thomas asked, pulling her from her musings.
“It is kind of you to ask,” she smoothed her apron. “The work is not so hard, and the servants have all been friendly. Ellen and Miss Miller have been most helpful. I have no complaints.”
“I had hoped you would say as much.” Thomas led her out into the kitchen garden. “The duke is a fair-minded employer. I daresay there is no better family to serve in all of England.” He sat one bucket down then meet her gaze as he poured the water from the other. “That is if one must serve.”
Tabby brushed a wayward curl from her cheek. “Is there something else you wish to do? I mean, other than being a footman?”
“Gads no. This is the life I was born too. I don’t believe any other line of work would suit me.”
Courting Temptation: The House of Devon Page 2