you the job, instead of angry. I’m sure you’ll end up being as fond of her as I am, if not more.”
“I doubt it.”
Even though Mr. Cushman’s tone was low, she heard it clear enough, and it pricked her heart.
At that moment, he glanced at her again and caught her listening to his conversation with Arch. His jaw flexed, but his gaze was unrelenting and unapologetic.
She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had disliked her or hadn’t wanted to be with her. Normally everyone was vying for her attention.
She sniffed and lifted her chin. It didn’t matter one tiny pin drop if he liked her. He was only a paid servant and a temporary one at that. She couldn’t let him bother her. If he didn’t like her, then she’d show him that she didn’t care, that she didn’t like him either. After all, she’d already learned that he was arrogant, boring, and unsociable—quite unlikable traits.
Even though she normally treated all her maids and household staff with the utmost consideration and kindness, as her mother had taught her, she’d watched the calloused and cold way some of her friends handled their servants, as though they were invisible and unimportant. She could do that to Mr. Cushman, keep him at a distance, refuse to form any bonds the way she had with Arch.
She only had to put up with him for the next month, and then she would never have to see him again.
Chapter 4
Tom stood near the door of the tiny shop, feet apart and arms crossed. He hadn’t moved for the past thirty minutes, not even an inch. He didn’t want Victoria to know how uncomfortable he was. She’d peeked at him in order to gauge his reaction to the various items that Madame Bisseau had tailored. But he’d schooled his face in a mask of passivity that he’d perfected. In fact, from the blush staining Victoria’s cheeks, it was clear she was more embarrassed by the sight of lacy corsets and drawers and chemises than he was. After all, he’d been exposed to frilly undergarments during his previous assignments.
Even so, he’d still had the urge to fidget like a naive school boy who was seeing such private garments for the first time. He’d nearly sputtered an oath of protest when the silver-haired French seamstress had brought out a silky, floor length nightgown. It had been pure white with a fashionable bustle on the back, along with a train.
But more than that, the gown had been thin. He’d had to recite the Lord’s Prayer twenty-two times since seeing that night dress in order to fight away images of Victoria wearing it.
After that, he’d also prayed more fervently that God would deliver him from this job. He hadn’t had any major problems over the past two weeks as Victoria Cole’s bodyguard. No further attacks. Except for a threatening letter Mr. Cole had received yesterday, there hadn’t been even a hint of a problem.
He hadn’t experienced any emotional entanglements with Victoria either. He’d kept his word to Henry Cole that he would treat his daughter with the utmost professionalism. He’d purposefully put a wedge between them the first day on the job. He’d seen the hurt in her eyes that evening at the hospital when he’d made sure she overheard his conversation with Arch. He’d regretted that he’d had to pain her, but it was for her own benefit.
She was naturally affectionate, even if she was slightly spoiled and strong-willed at times. He’d been around enough rich women to know Victoria Cole hadn’t let her beauty and wealth make her prideful. She had a freshness and innocence that was refreshing. She seemed to see the positive in every situation.
But that was the problem. She was too trusting, too sweet. She’d formed a deep attachment with Arch. And she also had friendly relationships with all the household servants. In fact, she treated them more like family than paid help. With her kind and generous spirit, he’d quickly surmised that she would grow attached to him too.
Sure, she was engaged and would be married in sixteen days. Nevertheless, he’d deemed it necessary to keep high walls between himself and Victoria. The best way to build a barricade was to hurt someone. Then the person usually erected a wall fast and furiously, just as Victoria had done. Although truthfully, her wall was flimsy. She’d had a hard time maintaining her “I’m the master and you’re my servant” charade.