Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,221

with her earlobe as a becoming blush lent color to her cheeks. “While you are a guest, I ask for your patience with the slower service. We are doing our best under the circumstances.”

“I understand and promise not to impose upon your cousin’s hospitality beyond requesting the use of a horse from her stables. I’ll see it is properly cared for and returned. Before I take my leave, however, we should have a conversation.”

“Do you not know, my lord? An ice storm came in the night. You are stranded at Davensworth Cottage.”

“Oh!” An unexpected development, but perhaps it would work for the best. He hadn’t favored a rushed discussion, and any decisions affecting their future association shouldn’t be made in haste.

“Blast,” he muttered to himself. “There will be no way to send a message to Everly Manor.”

“Will your family be worried for you?”

“Worried, no, but my brother will miss my protection.”

When Bess's eyebrows arched, he explained about his parents’ house party and how most of the guests thought it was a ploy to find a bride for Clive.

“Would it be horrible if everyone was right?” she asked.

“Are you suggesting our parents have started a new holiday tradition?” He chuckled. “Some families light the yule candle. The Marquess and Marchioness of Seabrook gift their children with spouses.”

Bess pushed away from the bookshelf. “You are hardly a child, Julius, and neither is your brother. He is the heir, is he not? It is right for your parents to steer him toward an acceptable spouse. Now, if you will excuse me, I have much to do.”

A small frown played across her lips when she snatched the edge of a sheet and whipped it from a sturdy table with thick legs. Julius had witnessed a magician perform a trick once at a house party. The table had been laden with food, dainty crystal goblets, and precious bone china with gilded rims.

When the man jerked the table cloth, the hostess screamed, but nothing on the table was disturbed. Every plate, every fork and knife, every piece of glassware stayed in place. Applause had erupted in the room, and conversations were forgotten. The magician was skilled at using distraction and performing sleight of hand tricks.

Julius couldn’t help wondering if Bess was doing the same. Whether she was distracting herself or him, he couldn’t decide. Perhaps it was best not to draw attention to her tactic now. After all, he would be at Davensworth Cottage until the ice melted or a heavy snowfall made it safe to take a horse from the stables. They would have time later to discuss their future association, if there was to be one. Perhaps they could get to know each other in the meantime.

He picked up the discarded sheet she’d removed from the chair.

“What are you doing?” Displeasure was clear in her tone.

“Helping. You said there aren’t enough servants.”

“You are a guest, my lord.” With an exasperated exhale, she plopped the folded sheet on the table and marched forward to snatch the other from his hands. “Breakfast will be served in the breakfast room. Shall I ring for Robbie to show you the way?”

His temper flared, but he controlled the burn. He was not an idle man, nor was he agreeable to being told what he could and couldn’t do, but she would learn that about him soon enough. “Thank you, but I can find it on my own.”

Chapter Five

Instead of seeking out the breakfast room, Julius headed toward the kitchen, passed the butler’s pantry with a dusty desk and dull silver bells mounted to the wall, and eventually stumbled across the servants’ dining hall. The young women from earlier and the sole male servant were seated at one end of a long table better suited for a staff of twenty. Two extra places were set with plates and silverware, but the chairs were empty.

Robbie noticed his intrusion first and sprang to his feet. “Sir!”

The females followed suit. All three of them could boast posture to make an etiquette instructor proud. The senior servant lowered her head in deference. “My lord, we didn’t hear you ring.”

“Step lively, Rob.” The late housekeeper’s daughter snapped her fingers. “Show Lord Julius to the breakfast room.”

Julius waved them back to their seats. “Finish your meal.” When they appeared reluctant, he infused his tone with authority. “I insist. Eat.”

The servants exchanged confused looks before sitting.

“Please forgive my interruption,” Julius said, remaining in the threshold so as not to spook them. Members of his class could be