Two days later Adam entered the housekeeper’s office, only to be informed that the duchess wished to see him. Mrs. Thigpen looked worried, which was not a good sign. The housekeeper normally remained calm and unmoved even in the worst of crises.
“Do you know why?” he asked her. “Have I done something wrong?”
That was always a possibility. He had navigated many roles in the previous seven years, but this stint as a majordomo had been the most difficult one of all.
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Thigpen said, sighing. “She does seem in a mood, which is strange. The duchess is normally very sweet and unassuming.”
He hadn’t seen that side of the duchess yet, but he wisely kept silent.
“I do wish her father would not come and visit,” Mrs. Thigpen said, surprising him. “She’s always so agitated after he leaves.”
“The duchess doesn’t seem to be very much like him.”
“She doesn’t, does she? From the very first moment she moved into Marsley House, I liked her. She never put on airs and she always treated every member of the staff with kindness. She went out of her way to say please and thank you, which is more than I can say about Mr. Hackney. Or the duke, for that matter.”
“He was in India, wasn’t he?” Adam asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could. He’d never considered that Mrs. Thigpen might be a source of information about India, but the woman had been employed at Marsley House for two decades. The duke might have said something to her about Manipora.
“That he was, and very enthusiastic about the prospect. At least, that’s what his valet told me. Of course, Paul didn’t last long in his employ. Once he got to India, His Grace replaced him.”
The duke had been surrounded by a coterie of people who either protected him from others or the rest of the world from George.
She glanced at the clock. “Best be off, then, before she rings again.”
He entered the library, closed the door behind him, and walked to the desk where the duchess was sitting. She kept him standing there while she pretended to be interested in the account books in front of her. He saw those once a month when they were sent from the solicitor. He was expected to make comments and notations, and enter in any unexpected expenses that hadn’t been otherwise listed. The books were then sent back to the solicitor for evaluation. He hadn’t realized a step in the process was that the duchess reviewed them as well.
She finally looked up, her face wiped of any expression, and said to him, “Your penmanship leaves a great deal to be desired, Drummond.”
He bit back a smile. If that’s all she could find fault with, then he was in no danger of being dismissed.
“I apologize, Your Grace,” he said, bowing slightly. “I will attempt to do better.”
She glanced away and then back at him. “See that you do.”
He nodded, moved to stand at parade rest position, his legs slightly apart, his hands clasped behind him. He could stand for hours if need be. At least the sun wasn’t beating down on his head and shoulders. Plus, he’d had a good breakfast, so he was prepared to remain here for as long as she kept him.
Somehow, he’d annoyed her. No doubt protecting her from her father had been one of his sins. Another might be that he’d held her in his arms. Was she going to call him out on that, too? If so, he was tempted to tell her that, if he’d known about Georgie, he would have done even more. He would have embraced her fully, let her cry as long as she wanted, knowing exactly how she felt.
“You’ve spent entirely too much on the conservatory,” she said.
“Two of the window panes were broken, Your Grace. With the winter coming on, I didn’t want the damage to go unrepaired. Otherwise, the plants would’ve suffered, resulting in an even greater expenditure.”
She looked annoyed at his answer.
She was evidently fishing for something to complain about or some reason to have him stand in front of the desk like a supplicant. Very well, he would play this game. While she was looking for some reason to upbraid him, he would admire the picture she made, framed by the windows behind her, with the sun dancing on her dark brown hair.
Her nose was perfect for her face, neither too large nor too narrow and aristocratic. A woman’s mouth was a fascinating thing. Hers was perfect. The upper and bottom lip were exactly the same size. Both full, but not overly so. Nor was it too small for her face. It was another perfect feature, as were her eyes. He couldn’t remember ever seeing that shade of blue before. It was almost as if God couldn’t decide whether to give her gray eyes or blue and combined the two.
Her long and slender fingers trailed down the notations he’d made, one by one, as if seeking an error.
He much preferred her as she was now, annoyed and determined, than how she’d been that day in the conservatory.
She looked up then and said, “You’ve never been a majordomo before, have you, Drummond?”
He forced a smile to his face. “Why would you ask that, Your Grace?”
“For the simple reason that I desired an answer, Drummond.”
Her eyes were narrowed and that beautiful mouth of hers thinned. He might not be able to charm her with his answer, but he had every intention of doing the very best he could.
“Your Grace, I was a sergeant in the army for many years. I was responsible for a hundred men, their welfare, their deportment, and whatever was needed to ensure their well-being. I was promoted to lieutenant, which meant that my responsibilities increased. Instead of simply a hundred men it was ten times that. When I gave your solicitor my qualifications, he thought that I would serve the position and Your Grace well. Have I not done so?”
They exchanged a glance. He almost dared her to tell him where he had not done his best in this position. If he’d erred, and they both knew it, it was in being too familiar with her.
He would not apologize for that.
After a moment, she stared down at the account book. “You may go, Drummond.”
That was all. Not an explanation of why he’d been called into the library. Not an apology for wasting his time or insulting him. Nothing. Just a dismissal by a duchess.
He stood there wrestling with himself. He needed to finish his assignment. He didn’t need to cause any more conflict between the two of them. That was not his mission. The man he was, however, separate and apart from being a member of the Silent Service, wanted to ask what she’d objected to the most, that he’d treated her like a woman or that he had no intention of changing his behavior?
Instead, he did a smart about-face and left the room, feeling that a great many things had been left unsaid.
Suzanne watched the library door close behind Drummond before sitting back. She gripped the arms of the chair tightly with both hands, her fingers resting on the indentations of the lion’s paws.
Why had she summoned him? She hadn’t seen him for two days. Two days in which she’d heard his voice from time to time. He had a low laugh, one that captured her attention. His instructions to the staff were done in a no-nonsense kind of voice as if he would brook no disobedience.
He’d stared down her father. For that alone, he should be rewarded.
The man was entirely too attractive, however. Dressed in his majordomo uniform he almost looked like a prince leaving for a night of revelry. He moved as if he were comfortable with himself. She doubted if his hands ever trembled. Or if he ever looked uncertain.
He was entirely too intriguing.
Was that why she’d summoned him?
He hadn’t looked afraid. Instead, there had been a look in his green eyes that was almost insulting. No, not insulting. Challenging, perhaps. Almost as if he’d been daring her. To do what? Dismiss him? He was an excellent majordomo. Even the account books indicated that. He actually requested bids from several tradesmen instead of paying anything they demanded like Old Franklin had. In addition, he’d questioned several expenditures they’d normally always paid with the result that they were saving money at the greengrocers and the butcher.
Besides, he was excellent at protecting her.
Was that why she’d summoned him?
Had she felt the need to be protected? Perhaps she had, but how absolutely idiotic of her to think of her majordomo. He was a member of her staff. He was in her employ. She paid his wages.
She really shouldn’t have any curiosity about the man. Still, it had been nice to see him. He was looking well, fit and hardy. It was important to ensure the well-being of her staff. That’s the only reason she’d summoned him, of course.
She shook her head at that thought. She wasn’t given to lying to herself and she didn’t intend to start now.
For some reason, he made her feel safe. He inspired something within her, some kind of admiration she hadn’t often felt. He hadn’t sought her out in the past two days, reason enough to send for him.
She missed him. There, the truth, as idiotic as it was.