had anticipated, and within moments he was immersed in the intricacies of unraveling Wilmont’s finances. Wilmont’s interests were more varied and extensive than Tony had imagined and fully captured his attention.
He almost managed to ignore the vague floral scent of Lady Wilmont’s fragrance that drifted toward him whenever she gestured and the startling blue of her eyes when her puzzled gaze would meet his and the most intriguing dimple that appeared in her right cheek on those rare occasions when she smiled. Almost, but not quite.
In a corner of his mind not taken up with the complicated documents and legal papers, he wondered if there wasn’t far more to Lady Wilmont than appeared on the surface. And wondered as well why he found it so intriguing.
Chapter 3
“Well” — Delia studied the piece of cheese she held between her fingers ruefully — “this is one meal she couldn’t muck up.”
Gordon snorted in agreement, then started. “I beg your pardon, ma’ am.”
“Nonsense, Gordon. Your reaction was perfectly acceptable, given Mrs. Miller’s complete lack of culinary skills.” She popped the cheese into her mouth, then settled back in her chair and considered the platters the housekeeper had prepared. Cold meats and cheese and breads were not precisely what Delia had had in mind when she had requested a light supper. Why, at home, Cook would have prepared a savory capon in the lightest of cream sauces flavored expertly with delicate spices. Delia sighed at the memory.
“Forgive me for mentioning it, ma’am, but perhaps it would be best if you gave me leave to hire someone to assist Mrs. Miller with the cooking.” Gordon’s expression was noncommittal. “While we still have the strength to do so.”
She stared at him for a moment, then laughed and noted how delightful it was to laugh over something totally inconsequential. “I daresay our strength will hold out for a bit longer, but she’s not particularly competent, is she?”
“Not in the kitchen, no, ma’am.”
“It’s quite disappointing, as you said her references were excellent.”
“References can be misleading, my lady,” he said firmly.
“Yes, well, I imagine you are the expert on that.”
A bushy brow twitched above his spectacles. “Ma’am?”
“You were charged with the hiring of other servants in your previous position, were you not?”
“Yes, of course.” There was a subtle note of relief in his voice.
Delia considered him thoughtfully. Poor old soul. Perhaps his faculties really were fading, but she’d seen no evidence of it in the work they’d done thus far this evening. His mind seemed as sharp as a much younger man’s. Still, since his arrival, she’d noticed he’d seemed vaguely confused about the performance of his duties. Nothing truly significant, it just appeared he was never quite certain what to do next.
She stifled a sigh. This was indeed an unusual household she’d amassed: a cook and housekeeper who could neither cook nor clean adequately, a Scot with a twinkle in his eye who was rather too forward for a footman and a doddering old man. She’d allow him — no, encourage him — to find someone to take over culinary duties for Mrs. Miller but the woman could keep her position as housekeeper, at least for now. Mrs. Miller did seem a pleasant sort, and if she was not overly competent, a friendly nature was adequate recompense. It could be the woman simply needed time to settle into the household, as, in truth, did they all, and her skills would surely improve. As for Gordon, he too could remain in Delia’s employ for as long as he wished. He was kind and well meaning and obviously needed this position. Given his age, it would no doubt be his last. Perhaps they could find an underbutler or another footman to assist him. In hiring him, as well as Mrs. Miller and MacPherson, Delia had made a commitment and she would honor it. One had a certain responsibility to those in one’s employ. In many