was almost five-and-twenty.” He’d paused, his smile teasing but not unkind, “As for growing into that beak of yours? Well, that might take a bit longer.”
Benna had merely smiled. Her years with Geoffrey had inured her to insults or ribbing of any kind.
“Keep the clothing, lad. Consider it a parting gift.” Worth had glanced up from the money box he’d pulled out of his desk, his handsome face suddenly serious. “You’re damned good with my horses and I shall miss you. But I’m glad you’re taking a job with Trebolton. He’s a good man and will treat you well. And if things don’t work out you are always welcome back here.”
Despite his kind parting words Benna had been a bit concerned about the reception she’d get when Mr. and Mrs. Worth discovered that they’d be dining with their former postilion.
But Stephen Worth had grinned at her as if they were old friends and extended his hand.
Luckily Benna knew how to respond to the American custom of handshaking, but only because of her first encounter with Worth.
“It’s good to see you here tonight, Ben. Now I won’t be the only commoner at the table.”
Benna knew Worth had purposely said those words within the servants’ hearing.
He was the wealthiest man in this part of England, so if he did not have a problem sitting across from a postilion turned secretary it would be difficult for anyone else to demur. At least in Cornwall.
The dinner had been enjoyable and lively, with much laughter. It was difficult not to like the flamboyant American, who was not a respecter of ton etiquette and clearly believed in broad-ranging topics of conversation.
Mrs. Worth, was, in her quiet way, every bit as fascinating as her husband.
Even before Benna had met her she’d heard plenty about the English lady doctor who treated local people even when they didn’t have the money to pay for it.
Back then she had been known as Elinor Atwood. Not until after she married Worth did everyone learn that she’d once been the Countess of Trentham.
The fact that Mrs. Worth had been masquerading as somebody else when she came to Redruth—albeit not as a man—made Benna feel an unspoken kinship with her.
As if thinking about Mrs. Worth had summoned her, Charles, one of the new footmen, opened Benna’s door and announced, “Mrs. Worth here to see you, Mr. Piddock.”
Benna set down her quill and crossed the room to greet the small and quite pregnant woman.
“Thank you so much for helping me plan his lordship’s first dinner and ball next month, ma’am,” Benna said.
“It is my pleasure, Mr. Piddock.” Just like her husband, Mrs. Worth hadn’t expressed any surprise at Benna’s meteoric rise from postilion to stable master to secretary.
“Would you care for tea?” Benna asked as she led Mrs. Worth to a comfortable chair.
“Thank you, but I’ve only got a few minutes.” She reached into her reticule and extracted several sheets of folded paper. “I have taken the liberty of bringing you a copy of the guest list I compiled for our last dinner party.”
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Worth, I was, er, floundering.”
At the earl’s direction Benna had asked Lady Trebolton who they should invite to the function, but the countess—while unfailingly kind—had been less than helpful.
“At the bottom of the list is information for the stationers and several other local tradespeople you might find helpful,” she added.
Benna wanted to kiss the woman.
Mrs. Worth smiled. “I take it this is your first experience planning a large function?”
“Yes, it is,” Benna admitted. “I’m afraid Lord Trebolton might place more faith in my abilities than they merit.”
“I doubt that very much, Ben. My husband esteems you most highly and he is a difficult man to impress.” Mrs. Worth stood, her slight form showing her condition as more advanced than a woman who’d only been married a few months should be.
Benna wouldn’t be the only person to have noticed, but there wasn’t a person in the area foolish enough to say anything negative to or about the wife of Stephen Worth. His generosity was legendary, but so was his temper.
Mrs. Worth’s unusual silvery-gray eyes twinkled up at her. “I shall leave you to your slaving, Ben. I am scheduled to meet with the girls on the critical subject of new gowns. It will likely take most of the afternoon since a dressmaker has come from Redruth.” She laughed at Benna’s expression. “See, you could be in charge of matters far more objectionable than flowers and guest lists.”
After