I believe all men are deceitful, Corinna remembered Amanda saying in Children of the Abbey. Well, her brother wasn't deceitful. Oh, no, he was perfectly straightforward. He was determined to marry her off, and there was nothing the least bit deceitful about the way he was going about it. To the contrary, he regularly announced it to the world.
Your husband may not agree with that.
Corinna was yelling at him in her head, deciding just what words to use to make it clear to him, once and for all, that she wasn't looking for a husband in the first place and wouldn't accept one who didn't support her art career in any case—when the moaning and screaming suddenly stopped.
Corinna's breathing stopped, too. "Do you think Aunt Frances is…?"
She couldn't bring herself to utter the word dead. And evidently no one else could, either, because a tense silence flooded the room.
And then a thin cry came through the closed door.
"Of course not, you goose." Juliana grinned. "She's had her baby."
"Thank God." Corinna bit off a hunk of almond cake. Her aunt's ordeal was over. Marriage and childbirth hadn't killed her, after all. "When can we see it?"
"Not for a while," Alexandra told her. "The baby will be covered in mucus and blood, so it will need to be cleaned up first, and Aunt Frances will need to deliver the afterbirth—"
"Stop." Griffin walked back in, looking rather green. "I don't think Corinna needs to hear this."
Corinna laughed softly. She was feeling better already. Her stomach fluttered with excitement as they all waited to be invited inside. The baby stopped crying, and the murmurs that came through the door sounded contented rather than distressed. She heard Frances's familiar soft chuckle and knew everything had gone well.
At last the connecting door opened. From the bed Frances smiled, propped comfortably against her pillows. Lord Malmsey came out of the room, a short man with a receding hairline, a wide smile, and a pink bundle cradled in his arms.
"It's a girl," he said, sounding bemused.
Everyone seemed to sigh in unison.
Slowly he unwrapped the blanket, revealing a little heart-shaped face, a shock of straight dark hair, and large, unfocused blue eyes.
Corinna rose and walked toward him.
"What are you calling her?" she asked.
"Belinda," he said quietly.
"Oh, God." Frances's sister's name. Corinna's mother's. "May I hold her?"
Griffin laughed. "I thought you didn't want a baby."
"There's a big difference between having one and holding one," she retorted, opening her arms.
Lord Malmsey reluctantly handed his daughter over. Belinda felt warm and smelled divine. And holding her close, Corinna fell in love for the second time in two days.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Hanover Square, Tuesday 13 May
My dear Cousin,
I regret that I shall be unable to accompany you to Chelsea today, as my Aunt Frances is most inconveniently delivering a child. I shall take you tomorrow if that agrees with you.
Fondly,
Cainewood
"A USEFUL SKILL indeed, miss." Sean made a notation in his notebook. "Perhaps I can find a position for you cleaning Delaney and Company's main offices."
"Offices?" the scullery maid squealed, her cracked and work-reddened hands flying up to her cheeks. Clearly she considered cleaning offices a huge step up in the world. "A place of business? Not a kitchen?"
"I cannot make any promises, since decisions have yet to be made. But you won't be working in a kitchen." One business he wasn't involved in was food service. He stood, and when she stood too, he stuck out his hand. "Whatever your final assignment, you should expect to begin the Monday following Lord Lincolnshire's loss."
"Will I still live here?"
"I'm afraid not." Sean was certain Hamilton would never allow it. "But have no fear, miss. I shall arrange lodging in a boardinghouse for you until you can find a situation of your own."
She clutched his hand in both of hers, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Thank you, my lord. You cannot imagine—"
"I'm not a lord," he interrupted. "Merely a mister."
"You'll be a lord soon—"
"And you're very welcome. Before you return to the kitchens, please ask Mr. Higginbotham to step in."
He sat and made a few more notes while she all but danced out of the room. When the house steward entered, he rose again. "Was she the last one then, Mr. Higginbotham?"
A tall, thin man with a gaze that didn't miss anything, Higginbotham ran Lincolnshire's household like clockwork. "Other than Eugene Scott, one of the gardeners, yes. I allowed him the day off to sit with his ailing mother."
"A gardener." Sean nodded and made another note. Perhaps Mr. Scott could be assigned to work with the crews that landscaped new buildings following construction. "Please sit down, Mr. Higginbotham."
The steward did so, smoothing his palms on his striped trousers. "I must tell you, sir, that everyone, from the basement of this house to the attics, is extremely grateful for your seeing to their continued employment."
"Think nothing of it. They're uncommonly loyal employees, and as such, will prove to be assets in their future positions."
Now that Sean had interviewed them all—mostly in the evening hours over more than a week—he would assess their relative strengths so he could appropriately distribute them among the varied businesses he owned. Some would be involved in property management, others in import or export, manufacturing, construction, and many other of his endeavors.
"I hope everyone will be pleased with their final assignments," he said.
"I'm certain they will be pleased to have any employment at all. Although they wish to remain with Lord Lincolnshire until he's gone, of course."
"Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way."
Higginbotham hesitated. "If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Hamilton…" He cleared his throat. "How is it you've come to know of enough available positions? And come by the authority to hire—"
"I know a lot of people," Sean interrupted dismissively.
"I
