by Lexy Timms
When Alistair reached the study he found the baron sitting at his desk, a glass of cognac in his hand. The baron narrowed his eyes as Alistair approached his desk. Though there was a free chair, protocol demanded that Alistair couldn’t sit in such an informal setting without the baron’s expressed invitation. Since that didn’t look forthcoming, he had no choice but to remain standing.
“Have you enjoyed working here so far, Godstone?” the baron asked.
That question was so surprising that Alistair’s eyebrows went up before he could stop himself. Nobles weren’t in the habit of asking if servants actually liked their jobs. That was of no interest to them.
“My lord?”
“Do you want me to repeat the question, Godstone?”
“No, my lord. I want you to explain it.”
Surprise flashed in Lord Smythe’s eyes. A signal that Alistair’s question was unexpected. “It’s an easy enough question to answer. You either enjoy your work here or you don’t.”
“Allow me to restate, my lord. I wonder at the motive behind the question.”
Lord Smythe laughed. The low, almost mocking sound was so unfamiliar to him that it took Alistair a moment to comprehend what was happening. Lord Smythe didn’t smile, much less laugh. “You haven’t changed, have you?”
“My lord?”
“You were insolent as a boy,” the baron said, the expression on his face hardening. “Overly familiar with your betters.”
As far as Alistair was concerned, there were no betters in life. Only equals. But Lord Smythe obviously thought otherwise. Arguing the point would only put his job in jeopardy. Alistair could stand up to the baron, but only up to a point. There was a line he couldn’t cross no matter how much he wanted to tell the baron to go to hell. “My lord, it has never been my intention to offend.”
“And yet you offend me, Godstone,” the baron said icily. “You offend me greatly. Even as a boy you took it upon yourself to befriend my daughter. Spoke to the lords and ladies in our circle when you weren’t spoken to.”
“Do you not wish me to speak, my lord?”
Lord Smythe took a sip of his cognac and narrowed his eyes. “I swear, even when you say the right things, your arrogance shines through. Always has.”
“My lord, I asked to know the motive behind your line of questioning so that I could give you a complete answer.”
“You’ll know my motives once you’ve given an answer. I trust you will be truthful.”
He couldn’t reveal the whole truth. Not to Evie’s father. Because, despite resenting his work as a servant, Evelyn was the reason he was able to get up in the morning. That was how he accomplished even the most menial tasks. The chance of catching even a glimpse of her was enough to sustain him through it all. “In that case, I do enjoy my work,” he said finally.
“Why?”
Alistair tensed. He wasn’t fool enough to explain why to the baron, but lying had never been a strength of his. “I’m close to my parents. I was able to see my father the day I was hired and—”
“So you like your job because of its proximity to your family?” the baron asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Coming back to the manor has been like coming home.” His gut churned because, as true as that was, Alistair had long felt like he had been exiled from Smythe Manor. Exiled because, as long as even a friendship with Evie was forbidden, coming back to the place would be a wonderful agony. Here he was close to her. So close he had been able to kiss her. And yet he knew that she belonged to another man. She wasn’t his. The best kiss of his life wouldn’t change that fact. “I remember some of the staff from my childhood. So that makes them easy to work with.”
“Is it just the staff you’ve been happy to work beside?”
Alistair’s stomach tightened at the baron’s low, meaningful tone. There was something to this line of questioning. Something beneath the surface that was in the baron’s voice, but not in his words. “Of course, I enjoy working with the family.”
“Family? You’ve barely spoken a word to me or Lady Smythe,” the baron said, swirling his glass. “So, the only family member you’ve worked with has been Evelyn.”
“Yes. Though she’s so focused on making the duke and his family comfortable that we’ve hardly spoken.” A lie he said so smoothly that Alistair almost believed it himself. He might have been blunt and forthcoming moments earlier, but he would lie to the baron’s face to protect Evie.
“The servants seem to believe that you and my daughter have seen far more of each other than that.”
“Do they?”
The baron set his glass down and leaned back in his chair. “The servants have started to gossip, Mr. Godstone. I overheard them talking. About you and my daughter.”
He felt his chest go tight. So tight that he had to remind himself to breathe. Not only had the maids been talking, but word had gotten to Lord Smythe. If Alistair didn’t play this right, he was finished. He’d never be able to protect Evie from whatever the duke was holding over her if he was terminated. “What have they been saying? Nothing untoward, I hope. I’ll see that they’re disciplined for talking out of turn.”
“They’ve been saying that you and my daughter have been having an inappropriate relationship. An illicit affair right under the Duke of Rothford’s nose. You do realize that the duke is courting her, do you not?”
“I do. Which is why I would never take such liberties, my lord.”
Evie’s father frowned. “Gossip of this sort doesn’t just come out of thin air. Where there’s smoke there’s fire.”
Alistair fought to find an excuse that would throw him. A lie that Lord Smythe would have to believe. “Your daughter would never do such a thing.”
The expression on the baron’s face softened somewhat. “Well, Evelyn is a bit of an innocent. It wouldn’t be in her nature to risk her reputation. Certainly not for a servant.”
“Of course she wouldn’t, my lord,” Alistair said against the dull pain surging through him at those words. If he wasn’t even good enough to sit in front of the baron, Alistair knew he was not considered good enough to so much as touch Evie. That kind of scandal would destroy her. He had to guard their secret. For the rest of his life if he had to. “And I know my station better than anyone.”
“Despite your flashes of arrogance, Godstone, your ill-advised bluntness confirms that you are an honest chap,” the baron said. “You’re not the bowing and scraping sort who will tell me what I want to hear. Talking out of turn is a trait I usually can’t abide in a servant, but at least that means I can trust your response.”
Relief slammed through him. The baron had accepted his lie. Accepted it because he thought Alistair was honest. Because he wanted to believe in his daughter.
“Anyway, since this is nothing more than idle gossip, you are to get control of the staff,” the baron continued. “As much as I wanted to give the gossiping servants I overheard a dressing down, that is your domain. And though I’m well within my rights to sack the lot of them without bothering to give them a warning, I’ve been in a charitable mood of late, so you can give them a talking to.”
Alistair gave a polite nod. “Yes, Lord Smythe.”
The baron lifted his hand lazily, giving a dismissive wave. “That will be all.”
He bowed in response and headed for the door, opening and closing it quietly in the way servants were trained to do. With the door shut he turned to head back to the kitchen, but suddenly caught sight of Evie, rushing around a corner.
It took three steps for him to catch up with her. “Miss Smythe? Do you require assistance?”
She stopped dead in her tracks and turned around, indignation in her eyes. “Fine. You’ve caught me.”
“Caught you?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t already know,” she said. “I was eavesdropping, all right? I heard everything you said to my father.”
Chapter 14
“I ASSURE YOU I DIDN’T know,” he said to her.
“Oh,” was all she could manage to say. After she realized what they were discussing, she hadn’t been sure if she should confront Alistair or not. Now it appeared that he had forced her hand. There would be a confrontation after all.
Alistair glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was around before turning back to her. “Are you sure it was wise to listen in on your father’s conversation?”
“Don’t try to hide behind morality, Mr. Godstone,” she said icily. “It’s quite clear you didn’t want me to ever find out what you had to say. Which is strange, considering the text message I received from you. What was so urgent that you didn’t want me to even hear it?”
“We can’t talk here,” he said. “Even trying for a private conversation would look suspicious.”
“Well, lucky for you, I should be heading into town in a few minutes,” she said. “That means you won’t have to bother speaking with me.”
“The chauffer is out,” he informed her. “He’s gone down to Smythe River to help Mr. Hazel repair the dock.”
“So, I’m out a driver,” she said with a sigh. “I suppose my errands will have to wait, though I’d hate to put them off.”
“I could take you,” he offered. “It is part of my job description. I’m to drive when needed, and since the chauffeur is busy please allow me to take you.”
As angry as she was with him, Alistair did have a point. Besides, letting him drive her would give her the chance to confront him away from gossiping busybodies. “Very well. I’ll get my things and meet you outside.”
Evie didn’t wait for his response. Instead, she marched upstairs to retrieve her handbag and put on a pair of stylish dark glasses and a fashionable silk scarf around her head. Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she made her way back downstairs and headed out to the garage.
There she found Alistair, inspecting the cars. Her father was often buying and selling the latest models, so there were always at least ten cars in the enormous garage. However, there were a few older models. Vintage cars that the aristocratic set drooled over.
Alistair was currently running his large hands over a sleek, silver model from the sixties. He started to move around the silver car, checking the tires, adjusting the side mirror, and opening the doors to get a good look at the interior.
“What is it with men and cars?” she asked with a soft laugh.
He stopped his inspection to look up at her. “This is so perfectly restored that it looks like it came right off the assembly line in 1967. Hang on...” Alistair paused to look at the tires’ chrome rims. He laughed. “I think I restored this car.”
“Did you?” The idea of her family owning something of Alistair’s for the past three years made her heart squeeze in spite of her anger with him. Part of her had missed him all this time, yet a piece of him had been right here. “Father bought it three years ago.”
Alistair nodded. “I restored the same model about four years ago. I’m almost certain this is the one. I sold this model to a classic car sales company.”
“I think that’s how my father acquired this.” She stopped to admire the car. Even though she didn’t know much about cars, it was remarkable that Alistair had been able to make it look brand new. Unlike many of the upper-class people around her, Alistair had an actual talent. An impressive skill that deserved an audience. “It’s amazing. Did you do it all yourself? With your hands?”
He nodded. “It takes hundreds of man hours to do, but yes, by myself with my own hands.”
“That’s something to be proud of.”
“Is it?”
“I’d be proud if I could do this,” she explained. “I have no talents. All I did at university was French language literature.”
“You learned French. That is a skill.”
She shrugged. “Everyone around me can speak French.” Evie reached out to run her hands along the car’s smooth silver finish. “Nobody I know can do this except you.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Miss Smythe,” he said.
Evie didn’t respond. She was useful because not only did she look nice on the arm of whatever man she was accompanying, but she also brought wealth and good breeding. Not to mention, she would have the children that upper-class men all wanted to secure their legacies. Her talent didn’t matter. Her wants were an inconvenience. Nobody cared what her heart secretly yearned for. In her world of excess, she wasn’t even supposed to have a heart. Only the coldest, most heartless women could treat marriage like a chess game.
“I’ll accept the compliment,” he went on, dragging her from her self-pitying thoughts.
“Wonderful,” she said as she headed over to the key box on the wall to retrieve a set of keys. “You can drive me in it, then.”
He took the keys from her, his fingers brushing against hers with the motion. Though the touch was totally innocent, it was the first time since their kiss that she’d had any physical contact with him. Just one small bit of skin on skin was enough to send a wildfire rushing through her.
The touch seemed to have no effect on him, however, which confirmed her worst fears. The kiss hadn’t meant nearly as much to him as it had to her. Maybe it meant nothing to him at all. Wordlessly, he moved to open the passenger door and she slid into the backseat.
Alistair got into the driver’s seat, making the engine roar to life as he turned the ignition. Then, he smoothly maneuvered the car out of the garage and up the driveway until they were off manor property.
“Where to, Miss Smythe?” he asked, adjusting the rearview mirror.
Even through her dark glasses she saw the reflection of his brown eyes in the mirror as he adjusted it. Without thinking, she took her sunglasses off in a desperate bid to see the reflection of his handsome face in the mirror.
Their eyes met and her heart stopped then. What she had hoped to see in those dark depths was heat. The same flames that were burning through her. But what she saw instead were pitiless dark eyes that were as cold as the night sky in winter. The aloof butler had returned.
“The bank first,” she replied.
He nodded. “Of course.”
“What was your text about?” she asked. Now that they were alone, there was no point in stalling any longer.
“It was about what your father and I were discussing,” he returned dryly. “You must have overheard.”
“The servants talking. About us.”
“I suspect Hannah was the one who started those rumors,” he said. “She obviously wasn’t satisfied with our explanation in the attic.”
“I doubt she meant to be cruel. She probably thought she was protecting me by telling someone. Probably trying to save me from myself.” Her lady’s maid had numerous responsibilities, and one of them was working to guard Evie’s reputation. In truth Hannah was part personal assistant, part companion, and part chaperone. Though such a position was more of a holdover from an earlier time, some noble families still relied on lady’s maids to keep daughters in line.
“So she wasn’t trying to save you from me?”
“Why would she?” Evie asked sharply. “It’s evident that you care nothing for me, so she would have nothing to fear.”
“Miss Smythe—”
“I heard what you said about remembering your station,” she said, cutting him off. “The kiss didn’t mean anything to you. I made a complete fool of myself and you didn’t have the heart to say it to my face.”
“As I recall, you kissed me because you needed a distraction to prevent you from panicking,” he pointed out. “That was what you said.”
“I know what I said.”
She frowned. “And I know what you said to my father earlier. In the attic, you claimed that you wanted us to be friends, but from the way you spoke to Father earlier that was a lie.”
“You were the one who offered friendship.”
That wounded her terribly. Why did he have to make her feel like everything between them was one-sided? Maybe because it was. She had been the one to get him to agree to be friends. The one who had initiated the kiss. Maybe he didn’t care about her at all. What a complete fool she had been to think there might be something real between them. “So you take it back, then? Our agreement to be friends?”
“No, of course I don’t. Bloody hell, Evie, what’s gotten in to you?” he demanded.
“You’re not supposed to speak to me that way,” she said. “You remember your station, don’t you?”
“Is that what this is about? The fact that I had to remind your father that I’m nothing more than a servant?”
“All those things you said...you claimed not to care about your job and that wasn’t even true,” she accused. “You said one thing to me, then said the opposite to my father. You told Father you liked the job. So which is it? Do you want to keep this job or not?”
“I want it to help my father,” he answered.
“That’s the only reason?”
He didn’t reply immediately. From her vantage point in the backseat, she saw his grip on the steering wheel tighten. Saw his knuckles turn white. In the time he had been working at the manor, Alistair didn’t typically show all that he was thinking or feeling. No doubt he was fighting whatever emotions were coming to the surface. “That is the only reason,” he finally said.
Whatever emotion he had been trying to suppress had nothing to do with her. Alistair had likely taken an extra moment to spare her feelings. It was only natural for him to try to avoid offending his employer’s daughter.
Her heart sank. She had foolishly hoped that he had grown to like his job because of her. But it was childish to wish for such a thing. Alistair was only holding on to his job out of necessity. Not that she blamed him. It wasn’t a requirement for him to like his work. He probably missed his old life, counting the days until he was rid of her. Her secret longing for him to care for her was a misguided fantasy. A hope she harbored out of her own loneliness.