on good terms. She was settled with her own cup and plate during a round of welcomes. Another part of her relaxed, and then another. This was how it was meant to be. Every detail showed the rhythms of a well-run household, and to her that meant safety, respect, companionship, and a sense of possibility.
She’d been horridly alone even before all Miss Charlotte’s servants left, she understood now. No one in that house had given her credit for her skills, or advice about her difficulties, or a laugh to lighten a hard day. They hadn’t offered those things to each other, either. Bleak; it had been purely bleak. Back in a place full of life and energy, she knew she never wanted to be in such a situation again.
The footman who’d been at the front door earlier came in—Ethan, they named him. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, listening with a lazy smile and exhibiting his fine broad-shouldered figure. Lucy ignored him. She knew his type—the kind they warned you about—full of himself, with his well-turned leg and handsome face. Expecting every female he met to fall at his feet, and most likely deep as a puddle. Footmen were hired more for looks than brains. One of his sort—the servant of a visitor in Hampshire—had broken the heart of Lucy’s best friend, and nearly cost her her place. Lucy wasn’t about to be taken in.
That jet-black hair and those warm brown eyes did draw the eye, though, much as she wanted to deny it. Lucy found hers straying, and he managed to catch her gaze. “The cat bit me too,” he told her, raising one shapely leg in a smooth white stocking that showed no sign of a bite. Then he smiled at her. It was a flat-out beautiful smile. Lucy felt it all the way to her toes, felt her own lips automatically start to curve in response. She looked away.
“And haven’t you made the most of it,” Cook replied.
“A bit more gravy, Mrs. Wright, I’m wounded. Best have James lift the keg, Agnes—my leg, you know.”
“You scamp.”
It was said with affection, and everyone laughed, Ethan included. It seemed he was well liked. But that didn’t mean he could be trusted, Lucy told herself. She wouldn’t make that mistake. Hadn’t she just spent months watching the misery menfolk could bring to your life?
***
Ethan watched the new girl refusing to laugh. He saw a small female with a sharp chin, glossy brown hair, and wary blue eyes. Unless he was mistaken, a very neat figure lurked under her countrified gown. And he wasn’t ever mistaken about that sort of thing. Her gaze shifted from person to person, observing carefully, and clearly not trusting things to be as they seemed, which was interesting. Ethan was a dedicated observer himself. You learned a lot by being quiet and watching, particularly in the place he loved most in all the world—the forest. For him, in fact, observing was the only way to learn. Reading was no good. Little black marks on a page never penetrated his thick skull. Unlike his brother Sam, who loved figuring so much he got the parson to teach him “mathematics.” Now apprenticed to the estate steward, Sam was likely to make a big success of himself. You’d think that would be enough for their dad, but no…
The point was: Ethan got new skills by watching them done. Watching had taught him all kinds of things that people didn’t even know he knew.
Agnes said something that made Lucy really smile, and Ethan straightened. She lit up like a Christmas tree when she smiled. Ethan hadn’t thought she was pretty, but when her face filled with life and light, she was something better. She was a dazzler. And he’d bet she didn’t even know it. She didn’t strike him as one of those girls who posed in front of mirrors and tried out their charms.
It was an irresistible combination. A vastly appealing girl he hadn’t known all his life, who was also nothing like the pert London misses he’d encountered, who put him right off. He tried to catch her eye again, but she wasn’t having any. Hah, a challenge; he purely loved a challenge.
***
When he was in town, Alec read his newspaper over breakfast. Even this year, with his sisters along, he’d had no qualms about maintaining that habit. Anne was the only other early riser in the family, and her illness kept her abed. But