The Lady In Question by Victoria Alexander Read Free Book Online Page B

ways, they became not merely part of one’s household but members of the family. While she did not know any of her staff well as of yet, already she didn’t doubt for a moment that all three would feel a similar allegiance toward her.
    Delia leaned back in her chair. “May I ask you a question of a personal nature, Gordon?”
    For a fraction of a moment he hesitated. “As you wish, ma’am.”
    “Why do you powder your hair? It’s rather old-fashioned and makes you seem much older than you are, as does the mustache. Besides, you have rather an abundance of hair. Many men, my own father included” — she grinned — “would give a great deal for your head of hair.”
    “Thank you, my lady.” He paused, gathering his thoughts, no doubt. “I am of an age, ma’am, where the wearing of wigs or powdering of hair was required of men in my position. I suspect I am simply set in my ways. As for the mustache, nothing more than a personal preference and no doubt vanity on my part.”
    “How old are you?” She winced. “Is that too personal a question?”
    “Not at all, ma’am,” he said without hesitation. “I am one and sixty.”
    “That old,” she murmured. The admission surprised her. In spite of his display of some characteristics she associated with age, she’d noticed he moved with the grace of a much younger man.
    “I can still perform my duties, ma’am,” he said staunchly.
    Regret stabbed her. “Of course you can. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.” Impulsively she reached forward and placed her hand over his. “You will have a position here for as long as you wish.”
    He withdrew his hand politely. “I am most grateful, my lady.”
    “When things are more settled, you can see about a cook to take over those duties from Mrs. Miller. In the meantime, we shall have to make do.” She shook her head. “It will not be easy, but I am certain we shall weather her tenure.”
    “As you wish.” There was a distinct grim note in Gordon’s voice and Delia fought back a grin. This butler of hers would not be overt in expressing his opinion, but she had no doubt he would indicate exactly what his thoughts were on any given subject.
    It struck her that Gordon may well be the only person she could count on right now. He stood and collected the plates and platters, stacking them precariously, and in an altogether dangerous manner, on the tray MacPherson had left. Delia had spent her life thus far surrounded by servants who were unquestionably efficient. Those days were obviously over. Delia jumped to her feet. “Here, let me help you.” She circled the desk and reached to help steady the tray, brushing against him in the process.
    He yanked it out of her hands and stepped back, the dishes tottering threateningly. “I appreciate your assistance, ma’am, but I can well manage this.”
    He swiveled and stepped toward the door, balancing the tray awkwardly in one hand, pulling open the door with the other and ramming his foot against it to prop it open. Before she could say a word, he was gone, and she stared after him in surprise.
    He certainly moved quickly for a man his age. And he’d seemed surprisingly solid when she’d inadvertently brushed against him. Regardless of the effect of the years on his mind, he was apparently quite physically fit. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about his duties being too strenuous or him keeling over in the middle of serving tea. There was something else odd about Gordon, but she could not quite put her finger on it. It was probably of no significance at any rate. She returned to her chair and blew a tired breath. Thus far she and Gordon had managed to sort through the papers regarding Charles’s assets. There was more work to be done, of course, but she had a basic understanding of Charles’s worth — of her worth. And it was considerably greater than she had imagined. Nowhere near the respective Effington fortunes, of course, but impressive nonetheless. In