Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,223

I volunteered my services.”

“Out of necessity. Do you know how that sounds? Gemma’s reputation—”

“You needn’t worry about Miss Price losing her social standing. What happens under this roof does not concern the neighbors.”

With a sigh, she met his gaze head on. She’d always read people through their eyes, assessed their intentions, ascertained the truth in their hearts. Julius’s hazel eyes were open windows, warm and shining with sincerity. A large chunk of the wall she’d erected to protect herself crumbled. Like it or not, she needed help if there was any hope of restoring order to the house before Christmas.

“Very well, I accept.”

“Splendid.” Julius adjusted the logs in his arms. “I wouldn’t enjoy tying you to a chair to force you to slow down, despite your belief to the contrary."

A fresh wave of heat swept over her. She’d been cheeky earlier, accusing him of plans to tie up his future wife.

“Heavens, I’m in your way.” She stepped aside to allow him to pass. “Your load must be heavy.”

“A little, but I don’t mind.”

He paused at the landing and studied the end of the corridor. The house was a maze of passageways. Throughout the years, new additions had been tacked on to the original house in a haphazard manner. Bess liked the unpredictability of not knowing what was around the next corner, although it made navigation difficult.

“May I help you find something?” she asked.

“Robbie said I should replenish the supply in Miss Price’s chambers, but I’ve forgotten his directions.”

She laughed. “Is Robbie giving the orders now?”

“I insisted.” Julius’s wide grin was a testament to his good nature. “Have you seen the lad split wood?”

She shook her head.

“Neither have I.” He cocked an eyebrow. “But he gave a good effort before I took the ax away. It’s a wonder he hasn’t lost a foot.”

“Well, thank you for intervening.”

Lord Julius had been splitting firewood, which explained his disheveled appearance. Of course, it hadn’t occurred to a man of his station to use the servant staircase to carry the logs above stairs.

“Come with me,” she said. “I’ll show you the way.”

After the firewood was delivered to her cousin’s chambers, he smacked his hands together to clear the dust and debris. “What shall I do now? I am your humble servant.”

She considered sending him back to Robbie for orders, but decided it was the coward’s way. Eventually, she must tell the truth about last night and face the consequences.

“The drawing room hasn’t been touched,” she said.

“Lead the way."

She and Lord Julius settled into a comfortable partnership and worked side-by-side into the afternoon. His assistance made the work less grueling, but Bess was still exhausted when they stopped to take tea. It would have been the perfect time to clear the air, but Gemma joined them a few moments before Robbie arrived with the tea cart. Gemma, who’d been helping Anne polish the silver and organize the butler’s panty, looked as wilted as Bess felt.

“I noticed a pianoforte in the drawing room,” Julius said. “Do either of you play?”

Gemma nodded.

“Me, too.” Bess wrinkled her nose. “But I have no talent, much to my mother’s chagrin. She is my stepmother, actually. She married my father when I was very young.”

Julius dipped a sliver of sugar in his tea. “Evil or good?”

“Pardon?”

“Your stepmother. Was she evil or good? I’ve heard tales.”

“She was kind, but stricter with me than she was with her own children.” Bess shrugged. “It might have something to do with them being boys. Males tend to be given more leeway.”

“Not in my family,” Julius said. “Our mother treats all of us the same. She refers to us as her minions.”

Bess laughed. “The marchioness has a sense of humor, I see.”

“I don’t think she is joking.” The twinkle in his eyes said he was, though. “I learned to play the pianoforte. It was meant as a punishment for interrupting my older sister while she practiced. I enjoyed the lessons. I continued them longer than Mercedes.”

“You played for the annual Christmas pageant one year,” Gemma said. “You were marvelous.”

He met Bess’s gaze. “We should have a sing along once all the work is done. Nothing gets everyone into the spirit of Christmas like carols.”

“Yes!” Gemma’s teacup clattered against the saucer. “What a lovely suggestion. The Christmas spirit is just what we need.”

Bess smiled at Julius, communicating her gratitude. After Gemma’s uncharacteristic irritability with the servants last night, Bess had begun to question if her cousin was truly ready to observe her first holiday at the cottage without