Fallen Angel (16 page)

No matter what it cost her, she had to act as if this were a normal morning, and so she went about her usual chores, feeling as if every one of the servants were whispering about her behind her back—snickering about her—gloating that she had fallen from favor.

Every movement she made felt jerky, as if her arms and legs were controlled by someone else, and her voice sounded strange to her own ears when she discussed the state of the linens with the housekeeper, who thankfully did not appear to notice that Verity’s heart was broken.

Suddenly there was a commotion on the stairs, and one of the footmen came literally bounding into view. “Quick, quick, Miss Jolliffe, he’s here—his lordship’s here! You’ve got to come quick.”

It seemed as if the very room uttered a sigh of relief, and when Verity looked around, she saw that all of the servants, who moments before had appeared to be busily engaged in their own tasks, were now smiling at her.

“Hurry, child,” the housekeeper said, giving her a push in the direction of the stairs. “You mustn’t keep his lordship waiting. He’s not known for his patience.”

Verity fought back the urge to run up the stairs and fling herself into Lord Sherington’s arms. With all the dignity she could muster, she walked with careful decorum as befit a lady.

The minute she saw his face, she knew she should have hurried. Although he was not scowling, experience had taught her to recognize the anger now lurking in the back of his eyes—anger she could only hope was not directed at her for keeping him waiting.

He did not apologize for the fact that he himself was over an hour late, but then she did not think he was a man accustomed to explaining his actions to others.

She, however, was so happy to be with him again, she was ready to find excuses for his behavior. After all, he had never told her specifically that he was coming at nine
...
although it did seem to be understood that they would drive out together every morning, she thought, feeling a tiny bit of resentment that she could not entirely suppress.

Contrary to his usual custom, Lord Sherington did not wait until they were out of the bustle of traffic to begin a conversation.

“I fired every one of my servants this morning,” he said without preamble. Then he turned and looked at her as if wanting to judge her reaction to such an outrageous statement.

“I assume you had cause,” she said, doing the best she could to hide her shock.

Apparently she was not entirely successful, because now his anger became clearly visible—in a word, he scowled down at her as if she were also a servant who was about to be let go.

“By accident I discovered they were conspiring with one of my relatives to act in a way that was directly
contrary to my best interests.” In detail he related what had happened—with one very significant omission.

“In what way were they intending to act against your interests?” curiosity compelled Verity to ask once it became clear he was done with his recital.

Lord Sherington’s scowl deepened, and for a moment she thought he was going to bite her head off. Deftly steering the carriage through the traffic around them, he said flatly, “That is none of your business.”

He was right, of course. But she could not help wishing that it was her business. It amazed her how angry she felt at the unknown servants who had betrayed him. Being turned off was too light a punishment—they deserved to be flogged and cast into the darkest dungeon.

“Well, Miss Jolliffe?”

Pulling her thoughts away from assorted dire retributions, Verity looked up at Lord Sherington. “I beg your pardon?”

“You have told me you are experienced in managing a household. So advise me on the best way to obtain a new complement of servants.” The scowl on his face faded, to be replaced by a self-mocking smile. “Unlike you, I have no interest in domestic matters, and I absolutely refuse to cook my own meals and iron my own cravats and make my own bed.”

If he had not mentioned his bed, she could have answered with more aplomb, but as it was, the thought of him lying in his bed was so distracting, it took her a good minute or two before she was able to gather her wits and say, “You would do well to turn the matter over to Mrs. Wiggins. She runs what I consider to be one of the best employment agencies in London, and I have always been satisfied with the servants she has sent us.”

“And her direction?”

Verity told him the way to the employment office in Cork Street, and to her surprise, Lord Sherington immediately turned his horses around and started heading east on Piccadilly, apparently intending to waste no time in arranging for new servants.

She knew she should feel indignant and sorely put upon that he was dragging her along without even asking her if she wished to accompany him or if she preferred to return home. But instead she could not completely suppress the tingle of excitement and pleasure that he was allowing her to ... to assist him in this matter—to act in the capacity of his wife, as it were.

Did he know how improper it was for her to accompany him to an employment agency? Recommending Mrs. Wiggins was one thing, but actually visiting her in her offices in the company of an eligible bachelor was not at all the thing.

If someone discovered what Verity was doing, that person would doubtless assume she and Lord Sherington were betrothed. And if the betrothal announcement were not immediately forthcoming, that person would then be convinced that Verity was Lord Sherington’s mistress.

Remembering his cavalier attitude when he bought her the green cloak, she rather thought that in this case he would likewise not particularly worry about what behavior was allowable and what was definitely forbidden.

More than likely it had never even occurred to him to consider her in the light of an eligible female. There was, after all, no reason he should think of her that way since she had been on the shelf for so many years.

But still
...
surely there was some significance in the fact that he was allowing her to have such intimate knowledge of his private affairs?

On the other hand, he was probably doing nothing more than what he had said he wished to do—making use of her knowledge of household matters. After all, she knew he thought of her as a drudge—a poor relation shamelessly used by her relatives. Why should he not also use her when and where it suited him?

J
ust as he pulled the carriage to a stop in front of the building that housed Mrs. Wiggins’s office, however, Verity had a flash of inspiration. Suddenly everything became crystal clear, and she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, what Lord Sherington wanted from her.

He wanted a friend.

That explained each and every one of his actions since the day they had met. To be sure, just why he had chosen her to be his friend, she could not say, unless he had likewise felt they were in some way compatible.

She would never do anything to cause him to regret his choice, she decided. She would be the truest, most helpful friend he ever had.

He climbed out of the carriage and turned to help her down. At the first touch of his hands on her waist, she felt a sharp pain in her heart. Looking into his eyes, she could not hold back the regret that he did not want anything more from her than friendship. There was so much more she could give him if he only knew
...
and if he only wanted what she had to offer.

Resting her hand lightly on his arm, she allowed him to escort her into the building. Friends
...
that was all very well and good, but what would happen when he decided to marry? How long would his wife allow him to continue a friendship, even of the most platonic variety?

Thinking about that unknown wife, who was probably still an innocent girl in the schoolroom, Verity felt a hatred even more intense than she had felt for Lord Sherington’s mistress.

Even knowing how disgusted he would be if he suspected her of such thoughts, Verity could not feel properly ashamed of herself. Nor, despite the best of intentions, could she think about his future wife with any degree of equanimity.

Once they were seated in comfortable chairs facing Mrs. Wiggins, Gabriel informed the woman bluntly that he had dismissed all his servants and wished to hire new ones.

Mrs. Wiggins did not look at all pleased that he had brought her so much business, and when she finally spoke, her tone was cold. “I do not think that you represent the kind of client I wish to encourage, Lord Sherington.”

The snub was calculated, and Gabriel felt his temper flare, but before he could rise to his feet or utter even a single curse, Miss Jolliffe laid her hand on his arm, and he felt the tension drain out of him, and his anger gave way to curiosity. If the meek and self-effacing Miss
Jolliffe thought she could handle this disobliging and insolent female, then he would enjoy watching her efforts.

And if Mrs. Wiggins decided to be equally insulting when she dealt with Miss Jolliffe, then she would quickly come to discover that his reputation for ruthlessness was well deserved.

“Lord Sherington’s actions were not capricious or unprovoked, Mrs. Wiggins,” Miss Jolliffe said in her calm, clear voice. “His lordship returned home unexpectedly and discovered his servants were holding a meeting in the servants’ hall and discussing ways that they could deliberately act counter to his lordship’s best interests. In fact, Lord Sherington overheard enough to discover that one of his relatives was conspiring with them to thwart his plans.”

With every word she uttered, her voice became stronger, and she was speaking almost fiercely by the time she concluded, “And I do not think that Lord Sherington can be in any way blamed or held at fault for dismissing the lot of them. Indeed, I feel that he has shown remarkable forbearance in this matter.”

There was a moment of silence when she finished, and Gabriel had the feeling that Mrs. Wiggins was every bit as astonished by Miss Jolliffe’s show of spirit as he was. The older woman recovered quickly, however.

Turning to him, she asked, “So what kind of servants are you looking for?”

He knew very well that she expected him to enumerate butler, housekeeper, cook, and the required number of footmen and maids and grooms and so forth, but instead he replied, “I want servants who will be loyal to me at all times and on all occasions, and likewise ones who can keep their tongues from wagging about my affairs.”

T
h
e
corner
s of her mouth turned up slightly, and to his surprise, he discovered he was beginning to feel a measure of respect for Mrs. Wiggins.

“And what do you intend to offer them in return, my lord?” she asked, the insolence of the question offset by the expression on her face.

“I am quite prepared to pay double the prevailing wage,” he answered promptly.

“I had heard that you are ruthless, my lord, but not that you are a fool,” she replied.

Beside him Miss Jolliffe gasped, and her hand, which all this time had been resting lightly on his arm, tightened, as if to restrain him again from leaping to his feet.

His temper was not at all aroused, however, so he laid his other hand reassuringly over Miss Jolliffe’s and answered Mrs. Wiggins calmly. “If you listen more closely to what the gossips are saying, you will discover that I reserve my ruthlessness for people who are cruel, greedy, selfish, or heartless. I do not direct it toward people who are doing their best, even when they make mistakes. I assume, of course, that you will be able to find me servants who are competent, and who will not attempt to shirk their duties.”

To his surprise, Mrs. Wiggins did not look wholly convinced. “I am sure you mean every word you say, my lord, but people of your class seldom realize how easily they can hurt the feelings of their retainers—indeed, I think many people in the
ton
have never realized that the lower orders even have feelings that it is possible to hurt.”

With scarcely a pause to weigh the possible consequences, Gabriel decided to trust this woman, who seemed more interested in protecting the servants she represented than in fawning over the employers who wished to hire those same domestics.

“I was sent to sea when I was eight,” he said, unable to keep the harshness out of his voice. “There is nothing I do not know about the ways one person can degrade another, both openly and more subtly. I swore years ago that I would never make use of such practices, and to the best of my knowledge I never have, but for that you will have to take my word, which I do not give lightly.”

Mrs. Wiggins studied him intently for a long time, as if debating a course of action. Finally she spoke. “What recommendations will you require, my lord? The reason I ask is that I have on my books a considerable number of servants who have been turned off on various trumped-up charges, and who therefore have no letters attesting to their good character.”

Without hesitation, he replied, “Your recommendation is all that I need, Mrs. Wiggins.”

“And do you wish to conduct the interviews yourself?”

“Do not be absurd,” he said, standing up and assisting Miss Jolliffe to rise also. He handed Mrs. Wiggins a set of keys to his house. “The only thing I require is that my dinner be ready tonight by eight.”

“You may leave everything to me, my lord,” she said. Escorting them to the door, she added with a smile, “I believe you have made a wise choice, my lord.”

It was only as he was helping Miss Jolliffe into the carriage that Gabriel began to wonder at Mrs. Wiggins’s parting remark. Had she meant his choice of servants? Or had she been clear-eyed enough to see what his intentions were in regard to Miss Jolliffe?

He rather suspected the latter was true, and it only reaffirmed the wisdom of his decision to trust Mrs. Wiggins, who seemed to have remarkably good sense for a woman.

Halfway back to the Wasteney residence, Gabriel remembered the little book of household instructions and recipes in his pocket. He started to reach for it, but then it occurred to him that there was not enough time left to do the matter properly. Tomorrow morning would be soon enough.

He glanced down at Miss Jolliffe, and she lifted her gaze to meet his. Staring into her cool gray-green eyes, he had a premonition that he could give her dozens of presents without winning a declaration of love.

Feeling rather aggravated with her, he directed only half his attention to the traffic. But no matter how he pondered his predicament, by the time he pulled his horses to a stop in front of her brother-in-law’s house, he had to admit he was still at an impasse—still no closer to understanding Miss Jolliffe than he had been in Northumberland.

No, that was not exactly correct. Over the last week or so, he had acquired a great deal more admiration and respect for her character than he’d had when he had first met her, which only strengthened his resolve to have her for his wife.

At the same time, that goal, which in the beginning had seemed so easily obtainable, appeared with each passing day to be receding farther and farther from his reach. The only consolation he could think of was that since he was monopolizing her time, it was unlikely that any other man could succeed where he was failing.

Grasping her around the waist and lifting her down from the carriage, he felt his temper rising. Be damned if he would fail! He would make this woman his wife even if he had to throw her over his shoulder and carry her away.

With reluctance he released her, then said in what he hoped was a normal voice, “Tomorrow I shall endeavor to be here on time.” It was not exactly an apology, but it was the closest he had come to one in years, and he wondered if she had the faintest understanding of how much he was humbling himself.

“I quite understand why you were delayed this morning,” she said.

She smiled up at him, but no matter how he searched her eyes, he could see no hint of either elation or condescension. He could think of no other woman of his acquaintance who would have failed to recognize his momentary weakness and seek to take advantage of it.

Instead of driving away at once, he watched Miss Jolliffe mount the steps and be admitted into the house. Though he knew her to be six-and-twenty, at times like this she seemed as innocent and naive as a young girl fresh out of the schoolroom.

A rather dangerous state of affairs, he realized as he drove away. The world was too full of men—and women—who took a perverse delight in despoiling innocence and destroying naivety.