Amanda McCabe by The Errant Earl Read Free Book Online

Rosemount could sometimes weave, a spell Julia herself knew all too well.
    He was obviously startled when she spoke to him, and recalled himself. Recalled the truth of their odd, and rather awkward, situation. His warm blue eyes had turned gray with frost.
    He looked a bit like the prig she’d always imagined.
    She fought the urge to move closer to the warmth of the fire and instead offered the plate of sandwiches she had been arranging and rearranging. “Would you care for a sandwich, Lord Ellston?” she asked. “I fear supper was over long ago. We keep country hours here. Though, of course, now you must arrange the household schedule to suit your own needs.”
    She decided not to mention the fact that supper was generally just an extension of the tea, cakes, and sometimes even champagne that were served in the afternoon, after rehearsals. No need to make him think she was a poor household manager just yet.
    “Thank you, Miss Barclay,” he said, accepting one of the thin-cut cucumber sandwiches. “I prefer country hours myself.”
    Julia took a rose cream cake. “I suppose you will soon be wanting an accounting of the household.”
    He smiled at her, still a bit stiff and uncertain, but kindly. “I am sure it is nothing to worry you. I will simply speak to the housekeeper later in the week.”
    She bit her lip in consternation. “I fear, well, that there is no housekeeper at present. But I can answer any questions you may have.” Mrs. Thompson, like her husband, had been rather less than useful. Julia had practically run everything after her mother died.
    Marcus paused in lifting his sandwich to his mouth. “No housekeeper at Rosemount?”
    “No. You see, Mrs. Thompson had to leave us rather suddenly. But I have all the books and keys, which are, of course, at your disposal.”
    He frowned, his dark, silky brows almost meeting over his aquiline nose. She feared he might bellow, as Gerald sometimes had when very vexed. He just nodded. “Perhaps tomorrow we could discuss it, then, Miss Barclay. And later in the week maybe you could show me the household books.”
    “Yes. Certainly.” Julia placed her cup carefully back on the table, suddenly very weary. “Now, if you will excuse me, Lord Ellston, I am rather tired.”
    “Of course. Do forgive me for keeping you so late.” Marcus rose with her and walked to the drawing room door.
    Elly, Julia’s
real
maid, waited there to light her way upstairs.
    “If you will ring for Ab—Douglas whenever you are ready,” Julia told him, “he will see you to your chamber.”
    “Yes. Douglas,” Marcus answered slowly. “Tell me, Miss Barclay. Exactly how long has Douglas served as butler here?”
    “Oh,” she said airily, “simply eons. He is a treasure. Good night, Lord Ellston.”
    “Good night, Miss Barclay.”
    Julia quickly ascended the staircase, fighting the urge to look back over her shoulder. She could feel his gaze on her until she reached the deep shadows at the top of the stairs.
    She was thoroughly exhausted by the time she reached her room. It had been a very long, very odd day, and she just wanted to hide beneath her warm bedclothes and forget all about it.
    Sleep, however, was apparently not to be in her near future. Mary and Daphne were waiting for her, playing piquet at the little French card table that had been her mother’s, still dressed in their black housemaids’ frocks.
    “There you are at last!” Mary cried, her blonde curls positively atremble with enthusiasm.
    “We have been waiting for you for an age,” added Daphne. “We want to hear all about it.”
    Julia dismissed Elly and went to sit at the table with the girls. She kicked off her slippers and stretched her stockinged toes out toward the grate. “All about what?”
    Mary giggled. “Your meeting with his lordship, of course! He is awfully handsome. Just like this Italian opera singer I knew once. Alfredo was his name. . . .”
    “What is
really
important,” Daphne