Forbidden in February

by Suzanna Medeiros

  Her vehement defense of his mother told him that what he’d suspected was true. He examined her closely as he said, “You’ve been paying their salaries and for the upkeep of the house.”

  He saw the truth written clearly on her face before she nodded. “Yes.”

  He wanted to swear, but didn’t. Before his meeting with his mother’s solicitor that morning, a part of him had wondered if Miss Durham had been taking advantage of his absence. Continuing to live in his mother’s house and drawing a salary when her services were no longer required. But the opposite was true. She was using her own money to ensure that the house and its staff were maintained properly with absolutely no notion of how long she’d have to do so or whether she’d ever be reimbursed. Her generosity humbled him.

  “Thank you… for everything. For taking care of my mother—she clearly liked you and thought you more than competent if she made it a point to see that you would have a small measure of comfort after her passing. And it is equally clear her trust in you wasn’t misplaced. I want you to know that I plan to reimburse you for the expenses that should have been mine.”

  The soft color that entered her cheeks told him that he’d embarrassed her, but she smiled at him in gratitude. “Will you be taking up residence here? I don’t mean to pry, of course. I just thought that if you no longer needed to keep your position you might decide to remain here.”

  The question shouldn’t have surprised him. What man—or woman, for that matter—would continue to remain in service if he had other means to provide for himself? Still, the query reminded him too much of something his mother would say during one of the many conversations while she urged him to give up his position.

  “I don’t see why that should be any concern to you.”

  Her smile froze, then she looked away from him again. “Of course not. I apologize for being so forward.” She took another sip of her tea. She hadn’t touched her sandwich, but then neither had he.

  He cursed himself for being so curt with her. He hadn’t even noticed that her posture had relaxed somewhat, but now that the stiff set of her shoulders had returned, he realized just how cruel his words had been. Especially since this woman had gone out of her way to do more for those under this roof than he had ever done. His own guilt at having disappointed his mother in the end was causing him to lash out at the one person who was blameless in this whole situation.

  “I fear I am forever finding myself on the wrong foot with you. You touched on a sore subject with me, and I took my frustration out on you. I apologize.”

  She shook her head, placing her teacup on her saucer and returning it to the table before turning, again, to face him.

  “You owe me no apology. The question was impertinent. Only…”

  When she didn’t continue, no doubt worried about his reaction, he prodded. “Ask your question.”

  He meant the remark to be lighthearted, but he feared it was closer to the truth than he wanted to admit. Guilt in just how much he’d failed his mother continued to torment him, compounded by the indignation he felt that his mother had to die for him to learn the truth about her finances. Given how desperate she’d been to have him reconcile with his father, he’d thought her on the brink of destitution. But she hadn’t needed the money he’d been sending her. She’d told him that she loved his father and would take whatever small crumbs of affection she could get, even if they were obtained vicariously through their shared child. He’d always imagined, though, that what she’d really wanted was money. He’d been wrong. Love had been her weakness. It had kept her tied to a past that was forever lost, tied emotionally to a man who no longer wanted anything to do with her.

  Chapter Five

  Given the tenuous nature of her future, it was impossible not to feel as though Robert had put her firmly in her place. After all, she didn’t belong in this house. She’d stayed after his mother’s death because the rest of the staff didn’t deserve to be cast off with nothing, not even a letter of recommendation, after years of faithful service. And Mrs. Milton had spoken so highly of her son, telling her that he would take care of them when he arrived. Isabel had taken it upon herself to ensure they were looked after until then. That day had finally arrived, which meant it was time for her to leave.

  She’d allowed herself to forget the disparity in their situations, allowed herself to feel comfortable talking with him. He was in service himself as valet to a duke. She’d been treating him as an equal, but in truth, as the owner of this house, he was her employer. Or her former employer. That fact had also slipped her mind because she’d long come to think of this house as her new home. Her haven.

  Steeling herself for his refusal, she said, “I need to look for a new position but can’t say how long it will be until I find one.”

  His smile held only sympathy. “Of course. You can continue to reside here until that time.”

  With his assurance, she released the breath she’d been holding. At least she wouldn’t be cast out on the street. The money Mrs. Milton had bequeathed to her would go a long way toward ensuring her future, but she had always been practical. If the past month had taught her anything, it was that her modest savings could easily disappear. Now, while she was still young, healthy, and able to work, was the time to grow her savings. There was no telling how far that money would need to stretch when she moved north and set herself up in a small cottage somewhere her cousin would never think to look for her.

  She reached for her plate and started nibbling on her sandwich while Robert did the same but with far more gusto. Goodness, it was as though the man hadn’t eaten in a week.

  As they ate, she tried to make a mental list of everything she’d need to do over the next few days. Uppermost on that list was the necessity of finding a new position so she could increase her savings. She had to contact the agency she’d used to find her current placement with Mrs. Milton to let them know she was available.

  Beyond that, she found it almost impossible to concentrate on practical matters when her thoughts kept returning to the man beside her. Try as she might to maintain a composed front in his presence, she couldn’t forget the way he had looked at her when she’d woken from her nap in the library.

  He hadn’t gazed at her with the same intensity since then, but she’d caught a hint of speculation in his expression several times. And he kept frowning at her hair. It was very distracting, making her want to reach up and see if it was starting to fall from the knot she’d carefully arranged that morning. But worst of all, she actually found herself wondering what might have happened if she’d agreed to Robert’s outrageous proposal.

  “Your room has been readied if you should decide you want to stay at the house.” The look he aimed at her had her groaning inwardly, and she stumbled over her words as she rushed to add, “You are now the owner, after all. It is not unheard of for someone to reside in a house they own.”

  His eyes narrowed, and she tensed as she waited for him to put her in her place again.

  “Are you trying once more to discover my plans for the future?”

  “No, of course not. It was a simple statement. You own this house, and I know the staff believe that you will take up residence here and their future will continue as it has been.”

  His brows drew together. “I haven’t decided what I’m going to do next. There’s no pressing reason for me to return to Beckworth Park now that the duke has passed away. There seems to be some question about who will inherit.”

  She tilted her head in question. “Meaning what, exactly?”

  “Meaning that I find myself in a similar position to the staff here. The duke had no children, and there is no close relation to inherit. I have no idea why this information would be so difficult to obtain, but it seems that no one knows who the next Duke of Beckworth will be.”

  “What does that mean for you?”

  “It means I have no idea if I will have a position once they find the new duke. It’s possible he already has a valet he is ver
y happy with and whom he intends to keep. That would leave me in the exact same situation as you with respect to finding employment.”

  “So you’ve decided to remain in service?”

  He shrugged. “At this point, I couldn’t say.”

  She should stop bothering him with questions—with each inquiry, she risked having him snap at her again. But she couldn’t leave here without knowing what would become of the others in this house. And if she were being completely honest with herself, she was more than a little intrigued by this man. Why would someone choose a life in service when he had the means to support himself?

  “What will happen to Mr. Walters and Mrs. Harris if you don’t remain? They are no longer young, and it might be difficult for them to find a new situation.”

  She could tell from the way his hand tightened into a fist in his lap that her question bothered him more than a little.

  “They’ll receive glowing letters of recommendation, of course. Anyone would be lucky to have them. And I mean to correct my mother’s oversight and settle a sum on each of them, so they won’t need to work if they choose not to.”

  Robert Milton was a mystery with whom she was becoming far too fascinated. Mrs. Milton had adored her son and had wanted nothing more than to have him return home. What could possibly have happened between them to cause such a rift? And why would he have chosen to go into service when there must have been other options open to him?

  “They’d prefer to remain,” she said, trying to keep any hint of accusation from her voice.

  “Yes, well, we can’t all have what we want. If I sell the house, they’ll need to look elsewhere for their future.”

  He gave her a look that was heavy with meaning when he spoke about not getting what one wanted, and a shiver went up her spine when she realized he was talking about her. He wouldn’t say so directly, not after what had happened when they’d met, but she could tell by his expression, his eyes seeming to bore right through her, that it was she to whom he referred. He wanted her.

  Not only was this man a mystery, he was also dangerous to her peace of mind. She’d tried to ignore it, but there was an unmistakable attraction between them. It was as though the very air sizzled as he held her gaze.

  His statement should have sent her running, but it had the opposite effect, and that fact worried her. Confused by her response to him, she leaned forward and began to gather up the remains of their meal.

  “Leave that,” he said.

  He’d placed a hand on her arm, and they both froze at the contact. He dropped his hand but not before she saw that he’d been equally affected by the simple touch. This wasn’t the first time a man who was not a family member had touched her. She’d even had kisses from a few men her cousin had arranged for her to meet in hopes she would accept one of them. But never before had a man affected her on such a level that a simple touch made her feel as though she’d been branded.

  “I’ll gather the tea tray and ask Mr. Walters to return for the other.” She hadn’t been able to keep a slight warble from her voice, and from Robert’s expression, it was clear he knew that he was the reason for it.

  She stood and he followed suit, but he remained silent when she took the tray. She could feel the weight of his stare as she fled the room.

  Chapter Six

  Her heart heavy, Isabel pulled out her lap desk when she reached her small bedroom and perched on the edge of her bed. When she realized she was moving slower than normal, she wrinkled her nose in disgust. She was just a companion, not a member of the family, and she needed to be practical. Even if Robert changed his mind and remained at the house, he would have no need for a companion.

  She pulled out a small sheet of paper, prepared her quill, and began to compose a letter to the agency that had helped her find her current position. She’d been avoiding this task since Mrs. Milton passed away, but it could no longer be put off. Her heart ached as she wrote the words that heralded the end of her stay at the house she’d come to consider her home.

  When she was done, she let out a slow breath that did nothing to ease her heartache and set the paper on her bedside table to allow the ink to dry. Normally, she would have composed the letter in the library where Mrs. Milton kept a supply of sand to sprinkle over the letter to aid in that task, but she couldn’t do so while Robert occupied the room. And there was no point in waiting until he’d left for the day. She’d already overstayed her time in that house and needed to come to terms with the fact that she’d soon be interviewing for a new position. With luck, the search wouldn’t take long. It was too much to hope, however, that her next employer would be as good to her as Mrs. Milton had been.

  The soft rap at her bedroom door startled her. She set aside her quill and lap desk with quick, efficient movements and moved to the door, wondering all the while what Mrs. Harris needed from her. But when she opened the door, it wasn’t Mrs. Harris who stood in her doorway.

  Her heart began to race as she stared at Robert, powerless to stop the thrill of anticipation that surged through her, especially when silence stretched between them for an impossibly long time. But instead of propositioning her again, which she half expected him to do, he cleared his throat and glanced away—no doubt taking in her neatly made bed—before looking back at her and taking a step backward.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you. We can speak in the hallway.”

  He turned away and she cursed herself for being a fool. What was wrong with her? Would she so quickly throw away her virtue for a brief affair with this man?

  “Of course,” she said, closing her bedroom door with a soft click as she joined him the hallway.

  “It slipped my mind earlier that I have a letter for you. It had been forwarded to my mother’s solicitor.”

  She wanted to ask him why he’d felt the need to deliver the letter personally but stopped herself in time when she remembered he was in service. He’d be used to doing such things himself rather than calling upon a servant to deliver the letter for him.

  For a moment, she thought that perhaps the agency had learned of Mrs. Milton’s death and was contacting her about another position they’d already found. But that hope was dashed when she recognized the handwriting on the letter he held out to her. Somehow she managed to push away the dread that was threatening to consume her and thanked him in a normal voice. But she couldn’t keep her hand from shaking as she reached for the correspondence.

  He noticed, of course, and tilted his head, concern evident in the way he wrinkled his brow. “Has something happened?”

  Silently she cursed her cousin even as she tried to smile at the man before her. “It is a letter from my cousin. He doesn’t normally write, and for a moment I worried that something might have happened. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “Are you sure? I can wait while you read it.”

  She shook her head—that was the very last thing she wanted. “That won’t be necessary. But thank you for your concern.”

  He didn’t believe her. She could tell by the way his eyes remained on her face for longer than necessary before he finally nodded. “I’ll be in the library for another hour. Then I’ll be off. If you need anything, you’ll find me there.”

  “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  When he turned to make his way back down the corridor, she spun on her heel and returned to her bedroom. She stood just inside the door, her heart still racing, but now it was from dread. She stared down at Bertram’s letter, her fingers clutching a little too tightly to the edge of the folded paper, and tried to slow her breathing. But the memory of the last letter he’d sent to Mrs. Milton was still fresh in her mind. Having failed in his attempt to have Isabel’s employer dismiss her, she’d hoped he’d given up on trying to control her. The letter, this time addressed to her, was proof that the opposite was true.

  Lowering herself to sit on the edge of her bed, she took a deep breath and broke open the seal. Her fingers weren’t quite steady when she unfolded the lett
er.

  Cousin,

  I hope this letter finds you well.

  First, I want to offer my congratulations on having found an employer who seemed not to care about the backgrounds of her servants.

  I’ll admit I was a little put out when I realized Mrs. Milton wouldn’t be releasing you from your position. I’d almost given up hope that you would return to fulfill your duties to the family. But given the nature of your employment—a companion, after all, deals with the elderly and the infirm—I had every confidence that your current position would come to an end. I won’t bother to offer my condolences… neither of us would think them sincere.

  I am writing now to give you the opportunity to return on your own terms. The marriage I’d arranged for you still has a very real chance of going through, but understandably you’ll have to make it up to your future husband for forcing him to wait so long.

  We both know it is unlikely that you’ll find another household that cares so little about the type of person it employs.

  Yours,

  Bertram Durham

  Isabel crushed the vile note and threw it away from her.

  Ever careful, ever the opportunist, her cousin had made sure not to give himself away in writing. They both knew she was innocent of any crime, but that hadn’t stopped him from writing to Mrs. Milton and accusing her of heaven only knew what. Her employer hadn’t shown her the letter, but Isabel gathered that her cousin had accused her of having loose morals. He’d hoped, of course, that her employer would cast Isabel from her home, but that hadn’t happened. For some reason, Mrs. Milton hadn’t asked her if the accusations contained in the letter were true. She’d simply told Isabel that the letter had arrived, but had gone on to assure her that she could remain in her position as long as she was needed.