by Marie Force
As he surreptitiously watched Maeve eat her soup, he noted the way her lips closed around the spoon and how her throat moved when she swallowed.
How was it possible that the pedestrian act of eating soup could be so impossibly erotic? A surge of heat to his groin had him holding back a groan.
“Are you quite all right, Mr. Bancroft?”
That voice. Dear God, the sound of her words was the sweetest music he’d ever heard. He could listen to her speak all day without ever tiring of the sound. It wouldn’t even matter so much what she said, as long as she never stopped talking to him. Aubrey summoned his composure, which had deserted him the second he first laid eyes on the appealing curve of her neck. He nodded in response to her question. “I’m quite well, thank you.”
“And the soup is to your liking?”
“It’s delicious.”
“I agree. Mrs. Allston is a wonderful cook. We’re lucky to have her, especially in light of the reputation this house has with those in service.”
Aubrey wiped his mouth on the cloth napkin, made of much coarser cotton than the linen he was accustomed to upstairs. “So there’re exactly three of us then?”
“I’m afraid so, at least until the others turn up. If they turn up.”
“And the task before us is . . .”
“Monumental. Wait until you see the wreckage that is Mrs. Nelson’s room.” She shuddered. “It’s a travesty.”
“If we were to take it a room at a time, focusing on the public spaces and the bedrooms required by the Nelson family and their guests, we might be able to get it done in time.”
“We have two weeks until Mrs. Nelson, her daughters and grandchildren are due to arrive and three until the duke and duchess are expected.”
“I’ll see what I can do about getting some more help. Surely there have to be more people seeking positions for the summer.”
“I certainly hope so, because without more help, I can’t envision how we’ll ever be ready for the duke and duchess. I quite fear Mrs. Nelson’s infamous rages.”
“Don’t you worry about her. We’ll have everything in place for her and her guests.”
“Thank goodness you’re here.” She took a sip of the hot tea she had steeped for them both. “I have felt quite like I was climbing a mountain all by myself with no possible way to reach the summit in time.”
“We will get there together.” As he said the words, he considered the double meaning of the two of them reaching the summit together. A shiver rippled through him, making him shudder from the desire that gripped him. He thanked goodness for the table that hid his obvious reaction from her.
“Are you sure you’re well? You seem rather . . . flummoxed.”
That was a good word for how he’d felt since first laying eyes on her. Flummoxed indeed.
He was about to respond to her when another man came into the kitchen, looking as road weary and dusty as Aubrey imagined he did, too. This man was older, with silver strands mixed in to his dark hair, his face craggy with age and wisdom, his eyes red with fatigue but friendly.
“May I help you?” Maeve asked.
“I’m Joseph Plumber, the new butler. The agency indicated I should report today.”
Maeve’s shocked gaze shifted to Aubrey. “If Mr. Plumber is the new butler, then who, pray tell, are you?”
Chapter Two
Caught in the crosshairs, Aubrey smiled and decided the only honorable thing he could do was come clean. “You’ve found me out.”
Maeve stood, hands on her hips, eyes flashing with fury. Dear God, she was spectacular. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I’m Aubrey Nelson.”
She recoiled in horror, which was the only word that could possibly be used to describe the expression on her face. Then she turned and walked swiftly from the room, shoulders set and head held high on that magnificent neck.
Aubrey cursed under his breath, feeling like an absolute heel for upsetting her.
Holding his hat in his hands, Mr. Plumber bowed his head. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”
Aubrey went around the table to shake the man’s hand. “Thank you, and I apologize for the confusion. That was entirely my fault. Miss Brown has done an excellent job since she’s joined the staff.”
“I couldn’t help but notice the house and grounds appear to be in a state of . . .”
“Disarray?”
Mr. Plumber seemed relieved that Aubrey had stated the obvious so he wouldn’t have to. “Yes, sir.”
“Apparently, there was a problem with the former staff at the end of last Season. Windows and doors were left open, the caretaker walked off the job and the gardener is apparently long gone, as well.”
Mr. Plumber’s eyes bugged. “They left the windows open all winter?”
“I’m afraid so. When Miss Brown arrived, there were rodents, seagulls and all the accompanying mess.”
“My goodness! And this was done deliberately?”
“From what I’m told, yes.”
“The pipes! Does the house have indoor plumbing?”
“It does, but the water is shut off at the end of the Season, which is why the pipes didn’t freeze and burst.”
“Well, that is a relief then. Why would they allow the house to be vandalized?”
Aubrey ran his fingers through his hair, wishing now that he’d taken the time to bathe. But he hadn’t wanted to miss the chance to dine with Miss Brown. “My mother . . . She’s a bit of an . . .” He was going to say “ogre” but thought better of it. “She’s rather exacting, and from what I’m told by Miss Brown, the staff quit in protest after last Season.” Fearing the man would think better of his plans to spend the summer running the household, Aubrey quickly continued. “But that won’t happen this year. The staff will answer to me and only me. I’ll see to it that you’re not bothered in any way by my mother.”
Mr. Plumber exhaled a sigh of relief. “That is very good of you, sir. However, I can’t help but notice there doesn’t appear to be any staff other than Miss Brown.”
“And Mrs. Allston, the cook.”
“We need housemaids, footmen, gardeners, stable men, kitchen help... We need, well, everything. A house of this size and prominence won’t run itself without a sizeable staff.”
“I understand, and I plan to see what we can do about hiring more help.”
“Very well then. I shall endeavor to help in any way I can. I understand the family is hosting the Duke and Duchess of Westwood for the Season?”
“That is correct. They’re close personal friends of mine, and I invited them and several other friends from England to summer with us.” Aubrey glanced at the doorway Maeve had fled through, anxious to go to her, to apologize, to grovel, if need be. “If you’d please excuse me, I need to find Miss Brown and clear up a misunderstanding.”
“Of course. I’ll ask Mrs. Allston to show me to my quarters and then get to work after I’ve had a chance to clean up and change my clothing.”
“Thank you very much. Please, have something to eat as well.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you, sir.”
Aubrey left the room and headed for the backstairs because they were closer, taking them two at a time until he reached the second floor and began a search for her. He quickly realized that she could be anywhere, and if she didn’t want to be found, she could hide out very effectively in a house of this size.
His heart beat fast from exertion and dismay. He’d hurt her, and he hated himself for that. What had he been thinking? Why hadn’t he told her the truth from the outset? He didn’t know anything other than he’d been caught off guard by an unprecedented reaction to her and hadn’t wanted to ruin any chance he had to get to know her by telling her he was a member of the family she worked for.
Instead, he’d ruined everything by lying to her. He should’ve learned from the mess Derek had made for himself. Derek had taken on the identity of Jack Bancroft, his estate manager, after Derek met Catherine and d
iscovered she disdained the aristocracy. After they were married, she’d learned he was actually the Duke of Westwood. He’d faced the formidable task of making his wife fall in love with him all over again—this time as the duke. It had worked out well for them in the end, but not before they’d both suffered significant—and unnecessary—heartbreak.
And what exactly was Aubrey hoping for with the delightful Miss Brown, he asked himself as he methodically searched the house, finding each room filthier than the last. So many damned rooms. What family needed that many rooms anyway? The first time he’d seen the home his father had acquired in Newport, Aubrey had cringed. Nothing screamed “new money” quite like a forty-room cottage on the coast, filled with gold and glitter and priceless antiques that had conveyed with the house.
Though the Nelsons had always been comfortably upper crust, Aubrey hadn’t been raised with the kind of wealth his family now enjoyed since his father’s company cornered the market on component parts for railway cars. Nelson Industrial had made its fortune manufacturing the wheels, couplings and other parts that had been in massive demand as the railway system rapidly expanded.
The family’s fortunes had truly exploded when the company began competing with Pullman by also producing high-end cars for first-class travel along with baggage cars, mail cars, stock cars and its latest addition—refrigerator cars. The demand was so intense, the company could barely keep up and had expanded as rapidly as the railway system itself. Last year, when the company adopted the revolutionary assembly line process Ransom Olds had first used in 1901 to mass produce automobiles, the Nelson company’s production capabilities had quadrupled along with their fortune.
That fortune fueled a lavish lifestyle that now included this monstrosity of a house in fashionable Newport. Despite the ostentatiousness of the house, however, Aubrey adored Newport, the shore, the summer parties, the sloop he kept at anchor in the harbor and the general sense of harmony that came from being near the ocean.
“Where in the hell could she be?” He was running out of doors to open on the second floor when he entered the ballroom, which had clearly been a favorite spot for the seagulls that’d wintered there. Almost every surface was covered with white, sticky bird refuse and more feathers than he’d ever seen in a ballroom, and that was saying something after spending two Seasons in London.
Strolling to the far end of the vast ballroom, he threw open the doors that led to an expansive veranda that looked out on the ocean, which today was calm and sparkling in the late spring sunshine. Standing at the rail, arms wrapped around herself and head bent, was Maeve Brown. Her posture and the heaving of her shoulders indicated that she was crying. He was gutted to know he’d caused that.
“Miss Brown.” Aubrey spoke softly so as not to startle her and managed to startle her anyway.
She whirled around, her face red and ravaged by tears.
“I’m so very sorry for misleading you.”
“How could you? I spoke freely to you about your own mother!” She hiccupped on a sob and then covered her mouth, as if trying to contain future sobs.
“Everything you said about my mother is true.”
Her eyes flashed with fury that he richly deserved. “She is my employer. I was under the impression I was speaking to a fellow member of the staff, not a member of the family that employs me.”
“I realize that, and I apologize profusely for misleading you.”
“Why did you?” Her fury had abated somewhat, leaving a small voice that he already knew was unlike her. The Maeve he had met earlier didn’t suffer fools—and he’d indeed been a fool to deceive her.
“I . . . I liked you.” He swallowed hard. “And I wanted to know you. When you mistook me for the butler, I saw an opportunity to relate to you as peers. It was wrong of me, and I’m truly sorry to have misled and upset you. I’ve never done anything like that before, and I shouldn’t have done it to you. I hope you will accept my sincere apology.”
She stared at him for a long, charged moment before she spoke again. “What do you mean you liked me?”
He took a step closer to her. “I meant that I liked you.”
She recoiled, which wasn’t exactly the reaction he’d hoped for. “How can you like me? You don’t even know me.”
“I want to know you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here, Mr. Nelson—”
He took another step. “Aubrey.”
If there’d been anywhere for her to go, she would’ve moved farther away from him. “—but I’m not interested in playing that game. I’m here to work. I’m a housekeeper. I do not associate with men of your social strata.”
“I understand that, and I respect it. But I still like you.”
Her face flushed with the rosy color that made him breathless. “Stop it. Don’t look at me that way. I’m not that kind of woman.”
“I know you’re not, and I’m sorry again. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just that from the first second I saw you, I just . . .” He rubbed a hand over his stomach, which churned with nerves, another thing he’d never experienced when speaking to a woman.
“Whatever you’re going to say, please don’t. You know as well as I do the way things work in the world in which we live. I’m here to do a job. That is all I’m here to do.”
Keep talking to me. It didn’t matter what she said, even words he didn’t want to hear, as long as she kept speaking.
“Mr. Nelson! Are you listening to me?”
“Yes, Miss Brown. I’m most definitely listening to you.”
“If you respect me, as you said you do, you’ll stop this at once and see to the hiring of additional staff, so we might make the house ready for Mrs. Nelson and her guests.” She gasped as she seemed to realize something. “They’re your guests.”
“Yes, they are, and despite their lofty social standing, they’re kind, generous, wonderful people. You’ll like them very much.”
“Whether or not I like them is of no consequence. My duty is to prepare for their arrival, to make the house ready to receive them.” She gestured to the bird refuse decorating the room. “And as you can plainly see, we’re a very long way from ready.”
“Yes, we are, but I’ll help you and Mr. Plumber and whatever staff we are able to hire. We’ll work together until the house is standing tall and fully restored to its former glory.”
Her expression went flat with shock. “We will work together?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not done. You own the house.”
“Technically, my father does.”
“Which means you do as well.”
“Despite what you might believe, I’m not a pampered prince who’s incapable of the kind of work that’ll be required to clean up this mess and make the house ready for occupancy. I assure you I’m more than capable of pitching in and doing my share.”
She shook her head. “It wouldn’t be right for you to do that.”
“Who says?”
“Everyone who is anyone. It’s simply not done.”
“Who would know if I help? The two of us, Mr. Plumber and Mrs. Allston. Somehow, I think between the four of us we can manage to contain the scandal.”
“It’s bad enough that you lied to me, but don’t make it worse by mocking me.”
She was magnificent. There was, simply, no other word that would do her justice.
“Why are you smiling like a loon?”
“Am I?”
“You know you are. There’s nothing funny about this. You lied to me, allowed me to disparage your mother, who’s also my employer, in front of you—”
“Nothing you said about my mother is untrue. Her reputation as an exacting, difficult woman is well known here and in New York. That her former staff would stoop to leaving the doors and windows open for the winter says a lot about her treatment of them. Perhaps we should leave her bedroom untouched, so she can see what you walked in on because of her bad
behavior.”
Maeve recoiled in shock. “I will not leave her bedroom untouched, and if I have my way, she will never know what I walked in on. I’ll work tirelessly to make sure there’s not a single particle of dust left in this house by the time she arrives.”
Tipping his head to the side, he studied her intently. “Why?”
“Why what?” She squirmed ever so slightly, as if his attention overwhelmed her.
He hoped it did. He wanted nothing more than to overwhelm her in the best possible way, even as he realized that thought was highly inappropriate. He prided himself on being a gentleman in all his dealings with women and would continue that tradition with her no matter how inappropriate his thoughts might be. “Why do you care so much about making things right for a woman who obviously mistreated her staff?”
“She hasn’t mistreated me, and I was hired to do a job—a job that I fully intend to do. Now, if you wouldn’t mind letting me by, I’d like to get back to work.”
“I do mind.”
“Pardon me?”
“I’ll step aside when you agree to let me help. I’m strong and able-bodied and willing to work. You need me, Maeve.” He took a risk calling her by her given name, but he couldn’t stop himself from seeking something more with her, something deeper. All the reasons it was wrong for him to feel this way couldn’t drown out the need to know her, to understand her.
Her cheeks flushed with the rosy glow that made her even more appealing to him. “You take liberties you have no right to, Mr. Nelson.”
“My name is Aubrey, and I wish I could say I was sorry, but I’m not. Let me help you get the house ready. You need my help. Why not accept it?”
She eyed him suspiciously. “What’s in it for you if I allow you to assist?”
“Nothing other than the satisfaction of helping someone who needs it.”
“That’s it?”
“What else would there be?” The slow lift of her left brow would go down in Aubrey’s personal history as one of the most erotic things he’d ever seen. “Why, Miss Brown, I’m shocked.”
“I highly doubt that. But since I’m rather desperate for help, I shall accept your kind offer with the caveat that it shall be only help preparing the house. Nothing more.”