The Bride's Necklace. Kat Martin
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this morning.” Then Tory remembered that she had assigned the women the job of preparing two of the upstairs guest rooms for the arrival of Lady Aimes, one of the earl’s cousins, and her little boy, Teddy. It was simply another attempt to make Tory leave, but there was nothing she could do about it now.
She looked down the stairs to the grandfather clock in the entry. The day was rapidly slipping away. The rest of the staff was busy, grudgingly doing the work she had assigned them. Any attempt to rearrange their schedule would simply cause more trouble than it was worth.
“I’ll take care of it, Claire. You go ahead and finish helping Mrs. Wadding. She is outside beating carpets.”
Claire hurried off to her tasks and Tory made her way downstairs to collect a broom, mop and pail.
All the rooms in the house were lovely, and the two she had chosen for Lord Brant’s guests overlooked the garden, one of them done in peach and cream, the other in shades of robin’s-egg blue.
Deciding the little boy should have the blue, she began her work in there, opening the windows to let in the summer breeze, fluffing the feather pillows, dusting the landscape paintings on the wall and the marble mantel over the hearth. She did the same to the second room, grateful that at least the linens had already been changed, then began the job of mopping the inlaid parquet floors.
She was down on her hands and knees scrubbing a particularly stubborn stain when a pair of shiny men’s shoes appeared in her line of vision. Her gaze traveled up a set of very long, very masculine legs, over a broad chest and extremely sizable shoulders.
Tory sank back on her heels as she looked up at the earl. “My lord?”
“What the devil are you doing?”
She glanced down, saw that her skirt was wet, her white blouse damp and clinging to her breasts, so translucent she could see the shadow of her nipples.
Brant must have noticed. His gaze fixed there and some of the heat she had seen before reappeared in his eyes. Tory’s face heated up as he continued to stare at the damp fabric plastered over her bosom.
Tory swallowed, tried to pretend nothing was wrong. “Two of the chambermaids took ill,” she explained. “In their stead, I am completing the work necessary for the arrival of your guests.”
“Is that so?” The earl’s jaw hardened, and instead of answering, she found herself wanting to back away. A little squeak escaped as Brant caught her arm and hauled her to her feet.
“Dammit, I didn’t hire you to scrub my floors. I hired you to run my house. As I see it, there is a very large difference.”
“But—”
“There is a virtual bevy of servants in this house. Find one to take care of the guest rooms.” He frowned at the look of horror that appeared on her face. “Never mind. I’ll send someone up myself.”
To her utter amazement, the earl strode out of the bedchamber and down the stairs. She could hear him bellowing for Timmons and a few minutes later, Miss Honeycutt and Mrs. Wadding both came bolting into the room.
Determined to act with at least some portion of her authority as housekeeper, Tory instructed the women to finish mopping the floors in both bedchambers, then sprinkle a few drops of lavender scent on the embroidered linen pillowcases.
With menus to plan for the week and shopping lists to compile, she left them to their work and returned downstairs. She was on her way to change into a dry blouse when she passed the open door to the earl’s study. Her steps seemed to slow all by themselves and she found herself wandering inside, over to the chessboard in the corner.
She was surprised to discover the white knight hadn’t been returned to its former position but remained exactly where she had placed it. Even more amazing, the earl had countered the move.
Not that he knew it was she who had made it. Clearly, he believed one of the male servants had made the play, having made the reference to a man several times in his tirade that night—which irritated her more than he knew. Perhaps he thought it was Timmons who challenged him or one of the two new footmen who had recently been hired.
Whatever the case, in moving his bishop in response, her challenge had clearly been accepted. Either that, or a trap was being laid to discover if the culprit had the nerve to gainsay his orders again.
Tory pondered the latter, worried she might lose her position. Surely the man wouldn’t fire her over a simple chess game. Convinced she could talk her way out of trouble if she had to and never one to back down from a challenge, she seated herself in front of the board and contemplated how to counter the earl’s countermove.
It was late in the afternoon the following day, the June days lengthening and growing warmer. With so many projects in the works, Cord rarely had time for visitors. His cousin Sarah was the exception.
Seated on a pale blue brocade sofa in the Blue Salon, Sarah Sharpe Randall, Viscountess Aimes, was the sister Cord never had. Blond and fair, Sarah was tall for a woman yet slim and fine-boned. As children growing up, he had always been protective of her, the only girl among three rowdy boys, but in truth, Sarah was entirely capable of taking care of herself.
Cord crossed the high-ceilinged room beneath a crystal chandelier, stopping in front of an ornately carved sideboard to refill his glass of brandy.
“How is Jonathan?” he asked, speaking of her husband. “Well, I trust.”
Lifting a delicate, gold-rimmed porcelain teacup, Sarah took a sip of her chamomile tea. “Aside from grousing over the fact he had prior commitments and couldn’t come with us, he is fine. He sends you his regards.”
Cord took a drink of brandy. “Teddy has certainly grown since last I saw him. I hardly recognized the boy.”
Sarah smiled with pleasure. Her husband and son were the most important people in her life. “Teddy looks more like his father every day.”
“You have a fine family, Sarah.”
“Yes, I am fortunate in that. Perhaps it is time you began to think of having a family of your own, Cord.”
Carrying his glass, he walked over to the sofa. “Actually, I’ve been thinking quite a lot about it. I’m trying to work up the courage to enter the marriage mart. So far I haven’t quite found the nerve.”
“At least you’re considering the notion. That is more than you have ever done before.”
“More than considering. I’ve decided to wed. It’s merely a matter of choosing the right woman.”
“Have you anyone particular in mind?”
He thought of Mary Ann Winston and Constance Fairchild, the two young women currently at the top of his list, but he was far from ready to mention any names. “Not yet.”
“Tell me you’ve given up that silly notion of marrying an heiress. I can tell you from experience, loving someone is far more important.”
“Perhaps to you.” He sipped his drink. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t recognize the emotion, though I can tell you’re happy with Jonathan. It shows in your face.”
“I’m very happy, Cord. Except for missing Ethan.”
It was the reason for Sarah’s visit. She had come to discover news of her brother, which they had briefly discussed over breakfast earlier that morning. Cord set his brandy glass down on a piecrust table.
“I wish I had more to report. At least we know that the Sea Witch didn’t go down in a storm. According to Edward Legg, Ethan was alive when he was taken off the ship.”
“Yes, and I suppose in a way that is very good news. My brother is a strong man and we both know how determined he can be. We must believe he is still alive. Which means, all we have to do is discover where he might have been taken.”
Cord only wished it were that easy. He took a courage-building breath,