Redeeming the Reclusive Earl - Virginia Heath Page 0,5
in the hands of his scowling curmudgeon of a nephew.
Out of politeness to the new master, Effie knocked on the imposing front door rather than let herself in through the kitchens as usual. In the spirit of friendship, she also carried a basket of freshly baked cakes for the surly Earl as a peace offering, hoping a few sweet treats and the fine bottle of brandy from her father’s old stash might make him more agreeable.
Smithson, the butler, appeared amused that she had done so and even more bemused by the sight of her in a frock, but embarrassment soon clouded his face, his darting eyes saying much more than his mouth. ‘I believe Lord Rivenhall is indisposed again, Miss Euphemia. Perhaps you would like to leave your basket and I will tell him that you called?’ His wary gaze was pleading now, begging her to leave.
Effie had expected this. The village was awash with gossip about how the new owner of Rivenhall Abbey had refused to see anyone thus far. Aside from her, the vicar and his wife had been turned away both last week and the week before when they had called to welcome him to the parish. So, too, had the local magistrate and the physician, Dr Samuels. Although after her run-in with Lord Surly yesterday and his curt ‘I have a deep well of loathing for the medical profession’, she wasn’t particularly surprised the latter gentleman had been denied an audience. But he would see her today.
By hook or by crook, he would see her today!
She had even donned a dress for the occasion, something she rarely needed on the long and solitary days filled with digging, but she knew from bitter experience the male of the species always reacted more favourably towards her if she resembled what they expected a gentleman’s daughter to resemble. As if the mere presence of skirts and ribbons somehow made her less intimidating or odd. To that end, and because he was new to the parish, she had also vowed to disguise the bulk of her intellect, too. Nothing terrified or aggravated a man more than an excessively clever woman—even if she wasn’t in breeches.
She smiled at the butler apologetically. ‘No, thank you, Smithson. I shall wait here until His Lordship is disposed. Can you please tell him that I have taken root in the parlour and will not be budged until I have an audience with him?’
Smithson nodded slowly, a slight wince on his face. ‘I will try, Miss Euphemia.’ Then he leant closer to whisper, ‘Although I do not fancy your chances. He is not the most sociable sort and prefers privacy.’
He moved off down the hallway, so she showed herself into the parlour and sat in her preferred seat nearest the large French doors which overlooked the beautiful garden, wishing she was outside working rather than stuck indoors wasting valuable hours on this ridiculous errand.
The butler returned in minutes, obviously agitated. ‘I am to tell you that His Lordship is indisposed and will remain so for the foreseeable future, Miss Euphemia. Furthermore, I am to remind you that you have been...’ he looked down at his highly polished shoes as he swallowed uncomfortably ‘...banned from setting one foot on this land henceforth. I am so sorry.’
Effie rolled her eyes, then pasted a cheery smile on her face. ‘Thank you for appraising me of His Lordship’s position, Smithson. But as I have already stated, I am quite determined to wait.’ Because everything hinged on him granting his permission. Effie wasn’t cut out for the traditional spinster’s life and she certainly wasn’t marriage material. Experience had taught her that as well. Her unusually active brain would send her mad if she was forced to embroider or knit, or, heaven forbid, sit through endless polite teas pretending to care about the typical inane nonsense ladies talked about over tea. Her brain needed constant feeding with new knowledge and challenges, not tired, well-worn gossip. ‘No matter how long that takes.’ She sat primly in her seat, attempting to look every inch the lady for once while poor Smithson visibly paled.
‘He is not going to take that well. I am under strict instructions to get rid of you.’ And it was patently obvious the servant much preferred to get