Free Carla Kelly by The Ladys Companion Page B

neither.”
    She blushed and returned her attention to her teacup.
    “Reading the leaves?” he inquired, the amusement showing in his dark eyes.
    “No!” She finished her tea thoughtfully, then decided it would do no harm to speak. “Tell me this, Mr. Wiggins: what do you reckon are my chances of remaining here as a lady’s companion?”
    He considered the question. “Small, I would think.” Elbows on the table, he rested his chin in his hands, regarded her with that unwavering gaze. “Nobody really needs you here, Miss Hampton, and that’s the hard and cold of it. If you could make yourself indispensable, now, that might be a different wedge of cheese.”
    “And how do I do that?” she asked, returning him gaze for gaze, amazed at her own boldness. “I like it here, and I want to stay.”
    “That’s for you to discover.” He got up from the table and stretched, before starting toward the coat tree. “Mrs. Skerlong, do you think I should keep stalling or try to fetch this little one’s trunk?”
    Susan laughed. “So that’s how it is! Seriously, Mr. Wiggins, it can wait if the snow is too deep.”
    “I’ll get it today,” he said as he buttoned his coat. “Promised I would last night, as I recall.”
    Promises don’t mean much, she thought. “Suit yourself, sir,” she said.
    Again that look. “I always do, Miss Hampton,” he said as he nodded to the housekeeper and left the kitchen.
    Mrs. Skerlong gazed a long moment at the space he had occupied by the door, then turned back to the stove. “I disremember a time when he has said so much at once,” she commented, careful not to look at Susan. “He likes you.”
    Susan shook her head. “If that’s liking, I wonder why he didn’t give me any good advice on how to deal with Lady Bushnell.”
    “Why should he? That’s your domain. You’re the lady’s companion.”
    I am indeed, Susan thought. Now what? She pursed her lips and watched Mrs. Skerlong’s efficiency over the stove. The cat twined itself around her ankles, purring and offering her advice on where to scratch next by gently butting her fingers with his head. “Oh, you are a spoiled gentleman,” she said as she obliged him. Would that people were so easily managed, she considered, but that is another cup of tea.
    “Mrs. Skerlong,” she asked suddenly, “does Lady Bushnell take midmorning tea?”
    “She does. Cora usually carries it in.”
    “Let me do it this morning. I have to meet her sooner or later, and it may as well be sooner. She must know I am here.”
    Mrs. Skerlong looked doubtful. “Lady B does like order and tidiness, and you could fit three lady’s companions in that dress. You might wait until Davey returns with your trunk.”
    “That could be days!” she protested. “And each day I will grow more afraid.”
    “He said he would have your trunk today,” Mrs. Skerlong reminded her. “Don’t you trust people’s word?”
    “No, I suppose I don’t,” Susan said quietly. “But if you please, I would like to meet Lady Bushnell.”
    “Very well, then,” the housekeeper replied. “If you’re sure. Lady Bushnell usually spends the mornings in her room.”
    She felt less sure as she stood outside Lady Bushnell’s door and knocked. This dress is a fright, but I know my hair is neat, she thought as she waited and knocked again.
    “For heaven’s sake, just come in!”
    Oh, dear. Susan took a deep breath and opened the door. Lady Bushnell sat at a small desk by the window, with a ledger open before her. She was hard to see, because the strong light from the window was behind her, but Susan had no trouble recognizing posture as uncompromising and well-bred as her own, and the profile of a chin that looked even more stubborn than the bailiff’s. I have stumbled into a nest of strong characters, she thought as she hesitated at the door.
    “Come closer,” said the woman, setting down her writing pen. “Over there, please, then tell me who you are.” She