Wedded in Scandal

“When we are alone, Helaine. Only when we are alone.”

She ducked her head, but a moment later she was looking back at him. “Very well, Robert. But only on the very unlikely occasions when we are alone together.”

He grinned. “Excellent! Now—”

“Now I shall be going to bed, Robert.” She straightened her legs and bent slightly to put on her slippers. He entertained himself by looking boldly at her trim ankles as he scrambled for a way to entice her to stay.

“Of course you should go rest. I’ll wager it has been a very long day for you.”

“Yes, it most certainly has.”

“Too bad, too, because I very much wanted to tell you about what happened at the mine. That’s where I was, you know. This whole long, exhausting, frustrating week. I was at the mine working hand in dirty hand with Charlie.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “Would you like to hear what happened?”

She did. He could see it in her eyes and the way she bit her lip in consternation. “Did you have trouble with more vandals?”

“We did.”

“But you think it settled now?”

He shrugged. “As to that, who can tell? But you were going up to bed, and I shouldn’t ask you to tarry.”

She hovered, both feet on the ground and her hands poised to help her stand. But she didn’t move.

“Or you could stay up with me for a few moments longer. Just until I finish my brandy. I have ridden a very long way, you know. I’m quite tired as well. So it will just be the one brandy.” He took a healthy sip just to prove that it wouldn’t take him long at all.

She chuckled, knowing exactly what he was doing but caught nonetheless. “Very well,” she said as she leaned back against the couch. “Just for a little bit. Tell me what happened with the vandals.”

So he did. And he told her what changes he’d implemented, what course Charlie recommended, and what he thought about it. And he asked her opinion. And he made his brandy last for more than three hours.

Chapter 15

Helaine suppressed a yawn and nearly fell down the back staircase as she did so. Lord, why had she stayed up so late talking with Robert? Why hadn’t she remembered that she was not a lady of leisure anymore? She could not sleep until noon. In fact, if she wanted breakfast, she needed to be in the servants’ hall in time to be fed. And that was over an hour ago.

But that was the whole problem when she was with Robert. She forgot who she was, even who she’d been. She was simply Helaine sitting and talking with Robert and it was wonderful. This morning, however, was horrible. She was so bleary-eyed she doubted she could draw a straight line, much less sketch gowns for Lady Gwen’s approval.

Perhaps a bun would help. Cook kept a few handy for those who had tasks during the morning meal. She stepped into the kitchen and reached for the stack, only to be stopped cold.

“Mrs. Mortimer!” cried the tall, hook-nosed woman. She was the cook and was brilliant at the task. But she also had a way of glaring at a person just like a hawk eyeing a scurrying mouse.

“Er, yes?”

“Dribbs has asked to see you. Right away.”

Helaine nodded as she tried again to reach for a bun. “Of course, of course. I’ll see him directly after —”

Cook slapped her hand away. “You’ll see him now.”

“Er, yes. Right away.” Helaine slunk away. She’d known that the household kept a strict schedule. No laze- abouts tolerated. Anyone who slept past morning meal would go hungry. She’d known it, and so she wasn’t very surprised at her rebuff. She would just have to befriend one of the maids so that she could be woken in time tomorrow. And there would be no more late-night discussions with his lordship.

She pushed through the door that separated the main house from the servants’ domain. Dribbs was there at his usual position, half an eye on the house, half an eye on who and what came through that door. He smiled immediately upon seeing her and crossed to her side.

“Mrs. Mortimer. I trust you are well this morning?”

She smiled and managed a wry twist to her lips. “As well as I deserve, Mr. Dribbs. Cook mentioned that you wished to speak with me?”

“Yes, ma’am. If you would step in here, please?” He crossed to what was usually called the butler’s closet, but in this home, it was very much larger than the typical closet. He had a small room that included a desk plus a small settee and table, which was currently set with a breakfast of tea, jam, and hot buns. She couldn’t see the steam rising from the hot bread, but she could absolutely smell the delightful scent and her stomach rumbled in hunger.

She glanced nervously at Dribbs, who arched a brow at her. “Is something amiss?” he asked, his voice excruciatingly dry.

She glanced at him. Something in his tone or attitude was different. As if there were an undercurrent of humor in everything he said, but that couldn’t possibly be true. Whereas Dribbs was known to be rather familiar with the earl’s family—downright cheeky, if truth be told—he was known belowstairs as a man with a stern hand. He would not be overly familiar with a dressmaker, even if she had spent the night talking with the earl. If anything he would be more stern, just so he could enforce his authority over her.

Keeping that in mind, she forced her eyes away from the breakfast and folded her hands together to keep from reaching for it. “Nothing’s wrong, Mr. Dribbs. How can I help you this morning?”

“I understand you have been keeping irregular hours, Mrs. Mortimer,” he said in a cold tone. “Are you perhaps a bit hungry?”

Helaine glanced up in surprise as she realized what was happening. She feared she was about to receive a very stern dressing-down from a butler. That would be a first in her life, but again, no more than she deserved. Still, she tried to head it off.

“I know I missed morning meal, Mr. Dribbs, and my hunger is appropriate punishment for that. But I have not in any way shorted my duties toward the family.”

“I should think not!” he snapped. Then he gestured to the settee. “Pray sit down.”

She did as he bade, though she moved slowly. He had indicated that she sit directly in front of the food. Was he torturing her? Setting out food when he knew she couldn’t eat it?

She watched as he sat down in the chair across from her, his expression almost bland. Except for a tiny flash of…something. Was he laughing at her?

“Mr. Dribbs?”

“I received a note from his lordship this morning. It was there waiting for me when I arose. It concerned you, Mrs. Mortimer.” He paused, looking down his nose at her in the most imperious manner.

“Er, what did it say?” she asked. Or she tried to ask. Sadly, her mouth was salivating enough that it came out more like “shay.”

“He requested that you share breakfast with the family.”

It took a moment for her to understand his words, and even then she still didn’t know how to respond. “I’m sorry,” she finally managed. “That’s, er, most unusual.”

“This can be an unusual household. But his lordship was most specific. Said he wished to speak with you over his morning breakfast.”

She brightened, immeasurably relieved. Robert didn’t wish her to share breakfast with him. He wanted to talk to her at breakfast. As a master speaks to his servants. “I’ll report to him right away.” She made to straighten off the settee, but was stopped by Dribbs’s soft cough. She froze in a half crouch.

“Was there more?”

“With Master Robert? Always. Perhaps I should just show you his request.” So saying, he reached over to his desk and pulled out a crisp sheet of linen. Helaine sat back down on the settee, then gingerly took the paper.