To Serve

by Lexy Timms

“This isn’t a life, Evelyn,” he bit out sharply. “Your parents are treating you like an object. Like furniture they can just move around. And I don’t give a damn what title he has, you can do much better than a man like Rothford. Even calling him a man at all is generous.”

  “Nicholas is an over-grown child,” she agreed.

  “See? Even you know it.”

  “That doesn’t matter. I have a duty to my parents,” she said firmly. “After everything I’ve inherited from my family, the least I can do is earn my keep.”

  “You’re their daughter—why should you have to earn anything from your own parents?”

  “They wanted sons so that my father could have a male heir to the baroney,” she explained. “But I’m their only child since my mother didn’t want another pregnancy. My father agreed because, even though they didn’t marry for love, they ended up loving each other in time. I’m their last chance at male heirs, so even if I didn’t marry Nicholas they still expect male heirs.”

  “Listen to yourself,” he urged. “We’re in the twenty-first century. People marry for love. They don’t have to marry first and then hope they fall in love later.”

  “Families like mine cling tighter to tradition precisely because the aristocracy’s heyday is ending,” she pointed out. “The nobles feel like they’re under siege. Forced to modernize for a world we were never ready for. This is the only way to continue our way of life.”

  “You sound like your father,” he accused.

  That stung. Because she sensed how much he resented her father. “Do you think this is easy for me?”

  He didn’t answer right away. Without speaking he reached up to seize her chin, his dark brown eyes still on hers. Finally he said, “No. Of course I don’t. I want you to be happy.”

  “From the way you kissed me, I’d say you want me for yourself,” she said, her face heating.

  “I can’t deny that I want you—but you’re the one who kissed me, Evie.”

  She took a step away from him and waved her hand. “I figured you weren’t going to do it, so I took the initiative.”

  “So that was all about trying to stop your panic?”

  Kissing him had been about her panic. And so much more. That earth-tilting kiss with Alistair had showed her something she’d never had. Something true. A passion she hadn’t known was possible. Because spending time with Alistair had reminded her of how different he was from the duke. Instead of being controlling or dismissively condescending, Alistair spoke to her with respect. Instead of means to an end, she was an equal to him. But if anyone found out about the kiss, both their reputations would be destroyed. She had to make sure that she shielded him from both her father’s anger and the duke’s wrath. “It worked, didn’t it?”

  “I suppose it did.” He paused, as if contemplating whether to say more on the topic, and then shook his head. “Any ideas on how to get out of here?”

  “I don’t want you to break your arm trying to open the door,” she said.

  “There’s the window,” he said, stepping past her to get to the window several feet away.

  “I don’t know if it can even be opened.”

  Alistair turned the latch and forced the window open with an irritating screech. He looked down. “If I just climb over to the nearest window and get through there, I can open the attic door from the other side.”

  “What?” She rushed over to him in alarm. “Alistair, no! You’ll fall down!”

  “It’s that or I break down the door.”

  “But—”

  “Hold this.” He handed her the flashlight and climbed outside, his strong hands gripping the windowsill as he moved with a surprising ease.

  “Alistair, please,” she begged.

  He gave her the most maddeningly confident smile, and once he found his footing on a ledge below he began to edge towards the nearest window. “Won’t be long.”

  Evie felt her stomach drop. He was mad. That had to be the reason for this show of reckless, male bravado. She didn’t care how strong he had gotten from restoring old cars, one wrong move and he would break his neck. Or worse.

  She looked out the window and stared down at the ground. She hadn’t realized it was possible to be nauseated on an empty stomach, but they were so far off the ground that she felt sick at the thought of Alistair falling.

  That didn’t seem to deter him as he continued to edge closer to the other window. And then, as he maneuvered his hands and jumped to the closest ledge at the same time, he grabbed hold of the nearby windowsill.

  With her heart hammering, she watched as he climbed up and through the window.

  ALISTAIR STEPPED INTO the room. From the look of the place it must have been a servant’s room long before his time. Probably served as a maid’s room in the early twentieth century, based on the black and white photos on the wall. Luckily, the window had been open so he was able to haul himself through it easily. Hopefully, he’d have similar luck opening the door and heading for the attic.

  Arms still aching from exertion he moved towards the door, turned the handle, and watched it swing open. He stepped out of the old servant’s room and walked down the hallway towards the attic door. All it took to open the attic door was a twist of the knob.

  “Rusty hinges might explain why the door got stuck,” he said, holding the door open and looking inside.

  “You’re all right! Oh, thank goodness!” Evie raced up to him and flung her arms around his shoulders. “I was so worried. I thought you were going to fall.”

  “I had it all under control.” He didn’t let his tone give away how much he enjoyed having her body so close to his. Evie was soft and warm against him, the curves of her body awakening parts of him that he knew was going to be a problem. A massive problem.

  “Don’t ever do that again,” she scolded as she released her hold on him. “You could have died.”

  “Hardly the kind of fall that would kill a man.”

  “Enough of your jokes. I won’t tolerate it,” she said sharply before hugging him again.

  “If this is going to be the reception, I should probably attempt to climb out of windows more often,” he said.

  “Don’t even think it.” She pulled back and cleared her throat. “See that it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Yes, Miss Smythe.”

  Evie frowned and turned to step back inside the attic.

  He grabbed a table and placed it in front of the door to keep it from slamming shut again.

  “Thank you for saving me,” she said, turning to look at him again.

  “You’re welcome. When I said that I would protect you, I meant it.”

  “Alistair, we can’t speak this way in front of anyone,” she said.

  “I know that,” he said, slightly surprised. “You know that I know that.”

  “We can’t talk about what we did here.” She raised a hand and traced her fingers across her full lips, emphasizing exactly what she was talking about.

  He almost groaned at the sight of her tracing the curve of her lush mouth. Kissing her had been unlike anything he had ever experienced. When she first pressed her lips to his, Alistair had been hesitant at first because he knew better than to take liberties. He had always been professional when it came to work. But then, he had never had to work near Evie. And when her lips had parted, all sense of propriety left him and he had kissed her in earnest. Deepened the kiss to get his first real taste of her.

  After so many years, it had been their first kiss. Against all reason, he hoped that it would not be their last.

  “You have my word that I will say nothing,” he promised. “Discretion is important to me.”

  She released a relieved sigh. “Thank you.”

  “There you are, Miss Smythe!”

  Surprised, he turned at the sudden sound of Hannah’s voice.

  The lady’s maid was standing in the threshold, a frown on her face. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  Evie’s face went
pale. She was no doubt worrying about how much Hannah had heard of their conversation.

  Unease settled over him. Even if Hannah hadn’t heard anything incriminating, she might start to suspect something was wrong if she was even the least bit observant.

  For one thing, Evie was still breathing rather heavily and the blush hadn’t completely faded from her cheeks. Worse, her faint pink lipstick was slightly smudged. Not to mention there was a definite tension in the air. All of it was enough evidence to make Hannah suspicious.

  “Looking for me?” Evie asked in a shaky voice.

  “I called you earlier, Miss, but you didn’t answer. I checked for you in your room and found that you had left your mobile phone,” the lady’s maid replied. “That made me a little worried, so I started searching for you. Thankfully, I found your father and he told me where you were.”

  “Well you’ve found me, Hannah,” Evie said.

  The lady’s maid didn’t respond to that right away. Instead her gaze slid from Evie to him, and Alistair was certain he detected suspicion in Hannah’s eyes.

  “Lord Smythe said you were preparing for the boat race,” the lady’s maid said. “But you’ve been up here for ages, based on my calculations. What’s taken you so long?”

  “We got lost,” Evie blurted out.

  At the same time he said, “The door got stuck.”

  Hannah pursed her lips disapprovingly. “Which is it, then? Did you get lost or was the door stuck?”

  “Both,” Alistair said smoothly, hoping that explanation would be enough to satisfy her.

  “Well, you’ve gotten the door opened again, so we can all be thankful for that,” Hannah said. “Have you found what you were searching for?”

  At those words he thought of Evie. Since he left the manor all those years ago, Alistair had searched for a woman like her. He had dated with the subconscious hope of finding the woman who would make him feel truly alive. The problem was that someone like Evie wasn’t enough. He wanted Evie. Not someone like her. Her.

  “I have, but I don’t think Miss Smythe has yet,” he replied, giving Evie a meaningful glance.

  “I suppose we’ll have to take Mr. Godstone’s word and determine that I’m still looking,” Evie said to Hannah while she met his gaze.

  “Perhaps I can help with that then.” Hannah stepped inside, seemingly oblivious to the silent conversation going on right in front of her.

  Evie started to get her lady’s maid updated on the boat race, her manner giving away nothing about what had transpired in the attic. Alistair didn’t feel remotely at ease, and his chest tightened. Because if Hannah had overheard their conversation or started to suspect the truth, both Alistair and Evelyn stood to lose everything.

  Chapter 13

  THE GAMEKEEPER CEASED his hammering to glance up at Alistair. “Thank you for the help, sir, but I can take it from here. A few townsfolk are on their way to help, and you have more pressing tasks back at the manor.”

  They had both been working to improve the dock on the Smythe River. Though the main structure was sound some of the wood had to be replaced, and the manor’s gamekeeper Mr. Hazel often doubled as a handyman.

  Alistair wiped the sweat from his brow, set down his hammer, and stood up. The day had been so hot that, if it hadn’t been for his job, he would have been tempted to jump into the river to cool down. His shirt was soaked through with sweat. “We have made considerable progress.”

  “That we have, sir,” the gamekeeper said, opening the box of nails beside him. “The old boats you found in the manor’s attic are going to need shining up, I expect, and I doubt they’ll trust a clumsy fellow like me to handle that.”

  It had been a few days since he had located the antique boats and trophies with the help of Evie and her lady’s maid. Since then, he hadn’t gotten another private moment with Evie. Though he was desperate to speak to her, he had been too busy with preparation for the boat race to do much of anything else. Today he had left the manor with the gamekeeper to supervise the dock improvements for a little while. Since it was now obvious the man knew what he was doing, Alistair said, “Very well. I’ll head back to the manor and leave you to it. Inform me when the work is finished and I’ll be able to inspect the dock.”

  The gamekeeper gave a nod. “Will do, sir.”

  With that, Alistair stepped off the dock and headed over the car that had been waiting for them all morning by the riverside.

  “Drop me at the manor, driver,” Alistair said to the chauffeur as he got inside. “You can pack some more supplies for Mr. Hazel and then come deliver it to him.”

  The chauffeur nodded and started navigating away from the river.

  As they headed back to the manor, Alistair tried not to dwell on the fact that this was the car that the baron allowed the servants to use for errands. Though the car was perfectly suitable, he knew that Lord Smythe would never allow any servant except the chauffeur to use one of his flashier cars. The line between the servants and their employers was clear even when unspoken.

  When they arrived back at the manor, Alistair went to his room to shower and change into a new suit. With that done, he made his way to the kitchen. He had worked up an appetite after a morning working on the dock, and was going to need to eat an early lunch before he got back to work.

  As he stepped into the kitchen, he noticed three maids sitting at the long center table. They were speaking to each other in hushed tones, giggling loudly.

  “They were seen together,” one maid whispered loudly.

  A second maid gave a scandalized gasp. “No. Were they really?”

  The first maid nodded. “Oh, yes. Apparently Miss Smythe looked quite flushed. Far more flushed than any time she was ever with the Duke of—”

  “Mr. Godstone!” a third maid cried, jumping to her feet.

  The other two maids scrambled to their feet and curtsied.

  “Don’t let me interrupt your conversation,” he said, with the barest hint of disapproval in his tone. Typically, he might have pretended not to have heard idle gossip even though it was frowned upon. Servants needed a way to let off steam from time to time, but he wouldn’t put up with them gossiping about Evie. Worse, he was almost certain they had also been gossiping about him. Him and Evie together.

  “Um...we were just leaving,” the third maid said. “Weren’t we, girls?”

  “Yes. We have so much dusting to do upstairs,” the first maid said, a look of sheer terror on her face.

  “See to it, then,” he ordered.

  “Y-Yes, sir,” the third maid said.

  The trio began to race for the exit.

  “A moment,” he said, sternly enough to make them stop dead in their tracks.

  All three of them turned to look at him, sheepish expressions on their faces.

  “You are never to speak of Miss Smythe in that manner again,” he warned. “One more instance of this behavior and you will be sent packing. On my recommendation.”

  “Of course, sir,” the third maid said, curtseying.

  Before he could respond the maids fled, leaving him alone in the kitchen.

  Guilt surged through him. That was the first time he’d had to give the staff a dressing down. But it was his job to keep the staff in line no matter how much he hated doing it. Besides, better for him to give the warning than for Lord or Lady Smythe to discover what was really going on. If Lord or Lady Smythe had caught the maids gossiping, they wouldn’t have been given a warning. They would have been sacked immediately and given no references to use in their job search. The truth was, despite his harsh rebuke, he had done the maids a favor by admonishing them.

  Still, this was clearly an extremely dangerous problem. Though he hadn’t overheard exactly what the maids knew, it looked like the lady’s maid had revealed whatever it was she had discovered in the attic. If the servants were gossiping, that meant word was bound to get out quickly. It would spread to Lord and Lady Smythe. Maybe even the Duke of Rothford himself. And if
Evie’s unease around the duke was anything to go by, she would be in danger. Not only was Alistair’s job in jeopardy, but so was Evie’s reputation. Though they were living in the twenty-first century, some things hadn’t changed all that much. An upper-class woman caught doing anything remotely inappropriate with a servant could face an entire lifetime of ridicule and being ostracized. The aristocrats might very well shut Evie out. She’d never marry if that happened. Some noblewomen had left Britain in exile over less.

  Stomach tightening, Alistair retrieved his mobile phone and called Evie. He had to warn her about what was going on. She shouldn’t have to find out she was the subject of malicious gossip the way he had.

  After a few rings, her phone went to voicemail. Damn it. Frustrated, Alistair hung up. He could always find some excuse to speak to her, but if her lady’s maid was around that would only fan the flames. Rumors might start to spread even faster then. Not to mention, even if he managed to speak with Evie privately, doing that might create another set of problems. If rumors were spreading that he and Evie had been caught doing something inappropriate, then seeing her alone would only make that worse for her.

  He grabbed two slices of bread, jammed some luncheon meat between the slices, and sat down at the table. This was a problem that needed immediate attention. Quickly, he ate the sandwich and retrieved his phone again. This time, he decided to text.

  ‘Call me ASAP. Urgent.’

  At the exact moment Alistair shoved his phone back into his pocket, Evie’s father entered the kitchen without warning.

  Alistair stood up immediately and bowed. “Lord Smythe.”

  “There you are, Godstone,” the baron said, his voice as hard as granite. “It’s time we talk.”

  “Talk, my lord? About?”

  “You’re not the one asking questions here. See me in my study.” The baron directed, glowering, then turned on his heel and left the kitchen.

  Alistair leveled his shoulders and followed after the baron. Despite the dread clawing through his stomach, he wasn’t going to show even a hint of unease. Not a moment’s weakness. Whatever this was about, he would face it head-on.