“Remember not to look directly at him, and curtsy when you first go in,” the housekeeper continued, as she began to walk briskly towards the servant's stairs. “I shall do most of the talking, although be prepared to answer any questions he might have.”
“Yes, of course,” Sophie mumbled, her heart all in a flutter. She resisted the urge to straighten her dress – a long, high necked, dark creation that certainly added to her attempts to look like a servant, and followed in behind Mrs. Martins.
“Ah, good evening, Mrs. Martins,” Lord Harrington mumbled, not looking at either of them as he continued to stare into the bright orange and red flames that licked up the wood and coal in the grate, his wrist turning as he swirled the drink in his hand. “The butler mentioned that you wanted to discuss something with me.”
“I thank you for your time, my lord,” Mrs Martins replied at once, with a slight bow of her head. “What I wanted to speak to you about was our new maid.”
Lord Harrington glanced over at them both, his brows rising to see Sophie standing there who realized, too late, that she had been much too busy studying Lord Harrington. His dark hair hung over his brow, his shirt open at the neck, naked without a cravat in the privacy of his home. She could see tufts of hair rising above it. With sculpted cheekbones, an aquiline nose, and dark blue eyes that seemed to see right through her, something about him caused heat to flood in her belly.
“The new maid who is present at this very moment?” Lord Harrington murmured, his gaze raking over her from head to toe.
“Indeed,” Mrs. Martins answered, as Sophie dropped her eyes to the floor, her cheeks burning from being caught staring. “She has proven herself to have skills that would be of an assistance to me. I would ask, therefore, that she be allowed to help me in my work. Perhaps I might even train her.”
“So she can go off and find herself another place of employment?” Lord Harrington chuckled, shaking his head. “Goodness, Mrs. Martins! I do hope you are not trying to take my servants away from me before they’ve even started.”
“No, of course I am not, my lord,” Mrs. Martins replied, sounding more than a little flustered. “I simply meant that she would, at least, be a good addition to your household should she be allowed to use the skills she has.”
“And what skills are these?” Lord Harrington asked, his eyes now back on Sophie, who glanced up at Mrs. Martins. She saw Mrs. Martins give the tiniest of nods, telling her that she should respond to Lord Harrington herself.
“I can do arithmetic,” she stammered, not quite sure what else to say. “I can read and write very well.”
“Is that so?” Lord Harrington murmured, suddenly throwing himself from his chair and coming to stand in front of her. “And how is it that a maid comes to have such skills as these?”
Sophie’s mouth went dry. She did not raise her eyes but was more than aware of him standing in front of her. His presence filled the room, surrounding her on every side.
“I believe she assisted the governess in a previous charge,” Mrs Martins said, hastily, when Sophie remained mute. “Obviously, when the children grew, there was no need for her anymore.”
There was a long silence. Sophie did not know what to say or what to do, standing frozen on the spot. Lord Harrington remained in front of her, as though stuck to the floor. Sophie felt her breath catch in her chest as one long finger reached out and lifted her chin until she was forced to look directly into his face.
“You are very young to have been with a governess until the children flew the nest,” he commented, frowning.
Sophie swallowed the sudden lump of fear in her throat and tried to smile. “The children left for Eton at seven years old and there was but two of them,” she stammered, relieved that she had come up with a reasonable explanation. “Both boys, of course.”
His eyes caught hers and refused to let her look away. The intensity of his gaze sparked both terror and warmth in her heart, swirling them together until she was utterly confused. She could only hope that he would accept what she said, for she could not come up with any other kind of explanation.
After what seemed like an eternity, he dropped her chin and stepped back, seemingly satisfied.
“I suppose you might help Mrs. Martins, then,” he said, glancing over at the housekeeper. “Although we will not have difficulties with the rest of the maids, then, I hope?”
“No, not in the least,” Mrs Martins promised. “I can assure you that there are enough of them to fulfil all that is expected and more.”
Sophie closed her eyes briefly in relief, feeling her shoulders slump as the tension in her body drained away. She felt a slight touch on her arm and, seeing Mrs. Martins nodding towards the door, began to hurry towards it, suddenly desperate to remove herself from Lord Harrington’s presence.
“However,” came his strong voice. “At times, I may require your assistance. Should your arithmetic and writing skills be up to scratch, then I have a lot of paperwork you may help me go through.”
Mrs. Martins grasped Sophie’s arm and turned her back around to face the master.
“But of course,” Mrs. Martins replied as Sophie pasted a smile on her face. “I am quite sure she would be delighted to help you.”
“And what do I call you?” Lord Harrington asked, directing the question at Sophie. “I confess that I remember very few of the names of my staff, but I believe that you are to be the exception in this case.”
Sophie stared at him, the words of introduction dying on her lips. She had not thought of another name for herself, and certainly could not give him her own name.
“This is Sarah, my lord,” Mrs. Martins said, quickly. “I am sorry, she is something of a mouse.”
His lips quirked. “A mouse, are you? Very quiet indeed.” He watched her for a moment longer before turning on his heel and shrugging. “Very good. I shall call for you tomorrow, Sarah. I must see how good these so-called ‘skills’ of yours really are before I will know for certain whether you are to be of any use to me.”
9
Benjamin arose the following morning with something of a headache. He had drunk a little too much fine brandy the previous evening without even realizing it and now as a consequence had a painful headache to accompany it. The breakfast tray arrived and with it, two letters. Both were from his friends, both accepting his invitation to stay with him for a short holiday. That, at least, brought a smile to his face. He was already beginning to find this place dull and he had only just arrived.
Sighing to himself, Benjamin chewed on his toast and tried not to think of the pretty maid who had invaded his home and his thoughts only yesterday. He was determined to prove to his father that he was able to run the estate well, but old habits were proving difficult to kill. He could think of nothing but taking that quiet little maid to his bed, thinking that she had one of the loveliest faces he had ever seen. Of course, her stark black dress somewhat hid the curves of her small frame, but he was quite sure there was a delectable figure beneath it.
However, Benjamin knew he could not do such a thing. It would not only be morally reprehensible, but it could endanger Sarah’s future. Of course, masters had taken their maids to bed for generations, but such a thing was only a consideration for their own pleasures and certainly not that of their servants. On top of which, Benjamin did not want anything to distract him from what he had to do – which was to ensure the estate brought in a profit and show his father that he could change his ways. He was determined to succeed.
Pushing himself out of bed, Benjamin rose and dressed, choosing not to call for Peter, his valet. A shirt and breeches would do quite nicely, given that he was to spend most of his day in the study going over the accounts. His steward would be with him in the afternoon, but he wanted to have a clear idea of the finances before that time came.
The third cup of coffee finally cleared his head and Benjamin strode towards the study, glad to see a fire in the grate already. The stack of accounts lay on his des
k, exactly where he had left them, and Benjamin rounded the mahogany desk to sit in the wide leather chair to open them.
His eyes ran down the list of numbers, his fingers tracing over the page, one line after the other. Finding a piece of parchment, he grasped his quill pen and began scribbling down various calculations, wanting to ensure that everything was in order … but, before long, his mind became confused.
Throwing down the pen, Benjamin sat back in exasperation. Arithmetic had never been something he had been particularly good at. It was as though there was something in his brain that simply did not want to process such things. Once the calculations became more difficult, his mind simply stopped working. It would chew over the numbers for a time, before spitting them out completely. Benjamin slumped back into his chair, a wave of embarrassment washing over him. He would not be any good to the steward with his lack of understanding of the ledgers.
Sighing, he rose and rang the bell. Perhaps it was time to see just how much this maid would be of benefit. It would be too embarrassing to ask for aid from another man, but a female would do quite nicely. Besides, as his staff, he could ensure she said not a word to anyone about what her duties were. That was only if she was able to help him, of course. The chances were she had overexaggerated her talents in order to keep herself from dusting and cleaning like the other maids.
“Send up that new maid,” he instructed the butler, the moment the scratch at the door was heard. “What was her name again? Sonia?”
“Sarah, my lord,” the butler intoned, with only a flicker of surprise. “You wish to see her?”
“At once,” Benjamin instructed, with a wave of his hand. “And another tea tray if you please. I did not eat a lot of breakfast.”
The butler nodded and left, closing the door firmly behind him. Benjamin rose to his feet and walked to the window behind the desk, leaning his forehead against the cool glass overlooking the brown gardens below. He was lonely, frustrated and tired of this life of responsibility already. However, Benjamin knew he could not return to London. The disgrace he had found himself in would haunt him should he return, and being cut from his father’s will would mean a lifetime of living on other people’s charity, if not having to find some kind of employment. He shuddered at the thought, pushing himself up to stand tall once more, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath.
“I must do this,” he muttered to himself, trying to steel his resolve. “I have to.”
The truth was, there was very little choice. Perhaps the company of his two friends would bring some joy to this place, although he would not let them know just how difficult he was finding the accounts. Numbers were still a mystery to him and Benjamin was ashamed at just how truly terrible he was at such things. He had managed to get through Eton on charm and reliance on friends who were much better with them than he was.
A soft knock on the door drew his attention and he walked over to open it himself. There stood Sarah, her hands folded in front of her and her head slightly bowed. Benjamin grinned as he saw the color in her cheeks, thinking that she was either terrified or delighted with his singular attentions. Given the tension in her features when she walked in, Benjamin guessed the former and determined he would put her at ease. He could not help but admire her slender neck and neatly coiled chestnut hair. Fleetingly, he wondered what she would look like with her hair around her shoulders, free of its pins.
Steady.
Remembering that he was not meant to be indulging himself with such thoughts – and certainly not with any actions – Benjamin walked around to his desk and indicated that she stand next to him. She did so at once, not raising her eyes to his as she had done the day before.
“Now,” Benjamin cleared his throat and began, running his finger down the open page of the accounts. “I want you to prove your skills to me.”
“Prove them to you, my lord?” she asked, surprise in her voice as she looked up at him. “What do you wish me to do?”
“Go through this page of accounts and show me whether everything is in order,” he said, briskly, picking up the heavy book and handing it to her. “There is a small writing desk in the corner where you can work. It should have everything you need.”
She blinked at him for a moment, as though astonished at his request, but took the book from him to do as he asked. Benjamin grimaced, wondering whether the look on her face meant she was suddenly terrified about what was expected of her. Was she truly able to do as she said?
For around half an hour, Benjamin sat back in his chair and studied Sarah. She had surprised him by getting to work at once, her brow furrowing in concentration. Whatever she was scribbling on the parchment to her right was evidently giving her the answers she needed, for a growing look of satisfaction was on her face as she neared the end of the page.
Benjamin lifted his brows in surprise when she came back to him, parchment in her hand. Her fingers were slightly stained with ink but there was a brightness in her features that caught his attention. The slight curve of her lips made him smile, and he arched one eyebrow as she approached.
“Might I dare to think you have been successful?”
“Very,” she replied, putting the parchment on his desk in front of him. “Here, you see? Most things are in order, but there is a slight miscalculation near the bottom of the page.” She leaned down, a little closer to him than before, and he caught the scent of lavender as she pointed out what she meant. “The calculations for the meat and the flour were out by a few pennies, but I have rectified it. It is a small mistake, of course, so not in the least bit worrisome.”
Benjamin glanced up at her, his breath suddenly catching in his throat at her nearness. Her cheeks were dusted with pink, her eyes bright and focused. When he forced himself to look away, down at the parchment, he was surprised to see beautiful, flowing handwriting.
“My goodness,” he murmured, bending down a little closer so that he might have a better look. “You are quite something, Sarah. Are you quite sure you were meant to be a maid?”
She blushed and looked away, standing tall once more. “I was well trained, and it was very kind of the governess and my employers to allow me to learn.”
“Yes, very,” Benjamin murmured, finding himself quite taken with the young woman, his interest becoming more than simply desire. “I think you shall prove very useful to me, Sarah. I’m afraid the housekeeper shall see very little of you.”
Providing her with another task, Benjamin could not help but allow his gaze to linger on her a little longer as she walked over to the desk which matched his. She was one of the most intriguing women he had ever met and Benjamin was not quite sure what to make of the little maid.
An hour or so passed and Sarah continued to work studiously. After some time, Benjamin could not help but walk over towards her, watching her work. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, her lips pursed, but her gaze remained steady and fixed. She was working hard, to the point that she seemed entirely unaware of his presence.
Benjamin watched as she continued to work through her calculations, making swift marks on the paper, coming up with – from what he guessed – the correct answer. He wished that he could work things out as easily as she, frustrated with himself over his lack of understanding.
“Might I help you, my lord?”
She was looking up at him, a confused expression on her face.
“Am I doing something wrong?” she asked when he did not respond immediately.
The look on her face as she gazed up at him lessened his frustration of his own inabilities. “No, indeed, Sarah. I was simply watching you work.” A wry smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I only wished I could do these calculations as easily as you.”
She blinked twice, an expression of surprise on her face. Benjamin cursed himself under his breath for being so open with her, a mere servant, when he knew he should not have said a word. It was not for a master to demean himself in such a way, even if the servant in question had a pretty face
and a kind smile.
“Never mind,” he grated, turning on his heel and walking away from her. “It matters not. Continue with your work.”
“I apologize if I have done something wrong,” she replied, once more missing the ‘my lord’ from the end of her sentence. “I did not mean to upset you.”
He twisted his head to look back at her, seeing the hesitation in her expression, the worry in her eyes. Striding back towards her, he stopped as he saw her suddenly shrink back, as though terrified he was about to strike her.
His lingering frustration evaporated in a moment. Benjamin was not that kind of man, nor did he want his staff to think that he would ever do such a thing. What had caused her to shirk from him? Did the other staff warn her away from him?
“I will never hurt you, Sarah,” he said, a little more gently. “I am not that kind of master, and I hope that the rest of my staff do not think I would ever do that kind of thing.”
“No, indeed,” she whispered, her face pale and strained. “I apologize. It was just a reaction from my … previous employment.”
Benjamin’s jaw tightened as he thought of what could have happened to her in the past to cause such fright.
“What happened?”
“I had an … employer who attempted to take liberties,” she said quietly. “He became angry and violent when I did not allow him to do so.”
He tensed in unexpected anger at the unknown man who would try to hurt her.
“Did he ever…”
“No, my lord,” she said, her head bowed. “I was fortunate to find employment here and left before anything occurred.”
“Good,” he said with a curt nod, alarmed at the level of emotion he felt at her words.
“Earlier I was frustrated, that is all,” he muttered, passing a hand over his brow. “Numbers and calculations do not come to me as easily as they ought. Neither should I have explained such a thing to you.” He stepped away, returning to his study desk. Why had he said such a thing to her? Why had he tried to explain himself to a maid?
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