Free Carola Dunn by The Actressand the Rake

guess I’ve never dealt with servants before.”
    “I have a feeling she already suspected as much. Have you no servants at all in York?”
    “Just Tessa, who’s been with Mama since before she was married. Otherwise only a cleaning woman who comes in to do the heavy work.”
    “That’s more than I have had as often as not. But now I seem to have inherited my godfather’s valet.”
    “And I have an abigail all to myself,” she said in awe. “At least, she’s really a housemaid, but she means to learn to be a proper lady’s maid.”
    “I’m sure she’s delighted to have the chance.” He pushed open the door from the servants’ wing. In the brighter light of the front hall, he saw that she had changed into a droopy brown silk gown with modest strips of narrow lace at neck and cuffs. “Your Sunday best?”
    “Yes, it’s the dress I wear for church. I thought I’d best put it on for dinner, though I know it’s not nearly grand enough.”
    “Fustian! For a family dinner in the country it’s... Good gad, girl, your hair is soaking wet!”
    She put a self-conscious hand to her head, neatly coiled and pinned up but far too dark and sleek. “I washed it before Maud told me about Mrs Hibbert,” she said defensively.
    “Mrs Hibbert can wait. You’ll take a galloping consumption, drop dead, and leave me to face your relatives on my own. Go up at once and dry it by the fire.”
    “No.” She raised her chin in defiance. “I’m perfectly warm.”
    “But my dear girl...”
    “I wish you will stop calling me your dear girl! If you cannot recall my surname, Nerissa will do, since we are almost related and must reside in the same house for several months.”
    “My dear Nerissa...”
    She frowned at him, but she was biting back a laugh.
    “I insist upon your drying your hair.”
    “Unless you prefer to summon Mr Harwood to adjudicate our disagreement,” she said with a green glint in her grey eyes, “pray tell me which way is the library.”
    “Devil take it, woman, you try my patience. This way.”
    He accompanied her, poked up the dying fire and added a log, and made her sit in one of the wing-chairs close to the hearth. She complied without demur, but adamantly refused his offer to stay while she spoke to the housekeeper.
    “Mrs Hibbert will never have any respect for me if I use you as a shield,” she pointed out, then spoiled the effect by calling after him, “Mr Courtenay! Should I invite her to sit down?”
    “Miles.”
    “Miles, then. Please! She’ll be here in a moment.”
    He wasn’t going to tell her he’d never been present when a housekeeper was interviewed by the lady of the house. “If her business seems likely to take more than a minute or two,” he compromised. “After all, she’s been with the family for decades, and you’re a baronet’s granddaughter, not a duchess.”
    She nodded, her extraordinary eyes wide, tensely straight in her chair, looking very slight and vulnerable. Miles felt an unaccustomed surge of protectiveness.
    He quickly suppressed the unsettling sensation. All the same, when he met Mrs Hibbert just outside the door, he commanded in a low voice, “Be kind!”
    As he reached the hall, Miss Sophie was retreating into the drawing room. Glancing back, she caught sight of him. An expression of alarm crossed her round, pink face and she scuttled out of sight. Miles frowned. Of all Sir Barnabas’s relatives, he had the fondest memories of the vague, timid old lady. Also she had been the only one at the reading of the Will to make a gesture of friendship towards himself and Nerissa.
    An aborted gesture, he recalled, as Mrs Chidwell had promptly removed her. What could Euphemia have told Sophie to make her afraid of him?
    He was about to follow her to try to find out, but he heard a murmur of voices in the drawing room and changed his mind. Instead, he headed for the stables to see what sort of horseflesh he had inherited.
    On the way, his thoughts reverted to