Redeeming the Reclusive Earl - Virginia Heath Page 0,6
rid of her, the woman he had known since she was baby, rather than deliver this unwelcome news to his belligerent new master.
Effie shrugged then offered the butler a regrettable smile in apology. ‘Then tell him if he wants me gone, I shall be gone quicker if he sees me. And while you are about it, please tell him I believe we got off on the wrong foot yesterday and that I wish to make amends for upsetting him. Tell him I come bearing gifts.’ Only the most hardened, rude curmudgeon could refuse both an apology and a present. ‘Edible gifts.’
Smithson nodded and she watched his shoulders slump a little as he went off to impart the bad news. Less than a minute later she heard Lord Rivenhall’s explosive reaction echo down the hallway.
‘Get rid of the blasted woman now! When I told you that I do not wish to see anyone I meant it, Smithson. How dare you come to me and tell me that she will not budge? You should never have let the chit in! Get a couple of burly footmen and throw the wench out.’
Effie knew the house too well not to know his bellowing shouts came from the study. She also knew that she was not going to stand by and allow the man to abuse one of his servants so abominably on her behalf regardless of the need to butter up the new Earl. She stood decisively and marched out of the French doors gripping her basket, determined to take the mountain to Mohammed. The quickest route to the study was outside and around the rose beds to the side. The study also had a pair of French doors connecting it to the garden. His Lordship would certainly not expect her to use them.
Steeling herself to do polite and reasonable battle, she slipped outside and dashed past the roses. Fortunately, the doors were cracked open to let in the fresh spring air. She grabbed the handle and, before she sailed through imperiously, reminded herself of her mantra.
Honey, not vinegar.
‘Good morning, Your Lordship.’
The butler gaped at her intrusion. Effie had no idea how Lord Rivenhall initially reacted because he had his back to her. She watched his shoulders stiffen before his head whipped around. Despite the tousled, long black hair practically covering his face like a shroud, she had the satisfaction of seeing he appeared to be temporarily lost for words.
‘Isn’t it a lovely morning, my lord?’
‘Have you no respect for either etiquette or boundaries, madam?’
‘Usually—but I urgently needed to speak you.’
‘And you assumed barging into my private study was appropriate when you had already been refused an audience?’
‘Desperate times call for desperate measures and I knew you were in because I heard you shouting.’
‘If you heard me, then you should already know I have no inclination to suffer your presence, Miss Nuisance.’ Lord Rivenhall turned his back rudely and addressed the butler instead as he started towards the hall. ‘Show her to the door and make sure she uses it!’
‘If you wish to be rude to someone, my lord, I would appreciate that you direct it at me. It is not Smithson’s fault that I have refused to leave or encroached on your privacy. And to be clear, I have no intention of leaving until I have said my piece, Lord Rivenhall, so you might as well hear it. Seeing as you are plainly here...’ she let her eyes travel around the pristine study until they settled on the completely clear desk. ‘...and hardly strike me as particularly indisposed.’
He paused mid-stride and slowly turned, clearly unsure of quite how to react to her bold statement. Bravely, Effie smiled, then walked towards the big, mahogany desk and sat in the chair opposite his vacant one to emphasise her intention to remain exactly where she was. Lord Rivenhall did not move from his spot on the Persian rug, piercing her with a glare which could have curdled milk.
‘Thank you, Smithson,’ she said, dismissing the servant with a smile she did not feel. ‘I shall see myself out once I am done. It shouldn’t take long.’ She fixed her gaze defiantly on her new nemesis. ‘Or