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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.
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.”
