crave his company.
Leaning over, he gently tucked the tiny green stem into its hole and packed the soil around it. He smiled. “I think I did that rather well.”
She stopped her digging and stared at his work. “Not bad at all.” She never looked at him. He could see only the ends of her turned up mouth, but her devastating smile had already become etched permanently in his mind.
Chapter Five
The trail of smoke from the chimney was Tess’s compass across the meadow. Her thin bonnet provided little protection against the late afternoon chill. She climbed over the low stone wall, her basket overflowing with wild asters and bluebells. Unfamiliar carriages lined the drive and for a moment Tess was convinced she’d taken the wrong path, yet the familiar brick manor loomed.
To her surprise, she found Lady Stadwell alone in the parlor. “Is Lord Marcliffe entertaining?” Tess asked.
“I’m afraid my nephew will have little time to pay us any attention this evening.” Tess blushed. Had her interest in Lord Marcliffe been so pathetically obvious?
“He’s attending to some business.” Lady Stadwell offered her a sympathetic smile. Her towering pile of curls, some real, most fake, had tilted and she swatted ineffectually at a lock of hair that had fallen into her eyes.
Carelessly, Tess deposited the wild flowers on the side table. Certain the disappointment was written plain on her face, she turned her back on her employer and jammed the stems into a vase.
“That’s if you consider interviewing a flock of powdered, perfumed women business.” Lady Stadwell’s conspiratorial whisper seemed louder to Tess’s ears than normal speech. “The stubborn boy has finally taken my advice.” Lady Stadwell’s elbow slipped off the chair’s arm and she sloshed cognac into her lap.
Normally Tess would have rushed to mop it up. Instead, without a word, she fled the room. Her cape hung heavy on her neck as she raced down the hall to the library. Thankfully, the door was unlocked. She pushed it open and tripped over the threshold, landing on her hands and knees amid a sea of skirts.
Lord Marcliffe shot out from behind the desk. “Hortensia, what the devil?”
She refused his offered hand and got to her feet. “I would like to be considered for the position.”
His expression could not be misconstrued. His dark lashes lowered, concealing his sympathetic gaze. “I am searching for certain assets.”
“Assets?”
“Not the ones you possess, Hortensia.” His gaze lifted. He’d apparently found the courage to look at her again. By the way his lips tightened, she was certain he was trying to suppress a smile of pity very much like the one his aunt had given her. Knowing that he found her physically repulsive made her stomach clench. She balled her fists, her fingernails cutting crescents into her palms.
Tess glanced around the room, taking the measure of her competition. There were three women, all quite lovely and all looking at her with varying degrees of amusement and curiosity. Two had applied quite a bit of paint, giving them doll-like appearances. She couldn’t help noticing that they were all dark-haired. Was that, she wondered, a particular preference of Sloan’s, or was it Lord Marcliffe who preferred brunettes?
Her fingers flew to her head to smooth the frizzy dark strands. The wig had once been sleek, but now it resembled a ratty horsetail. She had no money to replace it.
The tall woman standing nearest her snickered. “Perhaps, girls, we ought to leave. It seems we have been outshone.”
“You have indeed. Now, I suggest you shut up,” Lord Marcliffe growled. The woman blinked hard as though she’d been slapped.
Coming to her rescue did nothing to mend the rip he’d put in her heart a few moments ago. “I am not above begging. I would do anything you ask. Anything. ”
“Would you go so far as seducing the man?”
Tess found herself unable to reply. She knew it would come as a complete
Leaning over, he gently tucked the tiny green stem into its hole and packed the soil around it. He smiled. “I think I did that rather well.”
She stopped her digging and stared at his work. “Not bad at all.” She never looked at him. He could see only the ends of her turned up mouth, but her devastating smile had already become etched permanently in his mind.
Chapter Five
The trail of smoke from the chimney was Tess’s compass across the meadow. Her thin bonnet provided little protection against the late afternoon chill. She climbed over the low stone wall, her basket overflowing with wild asters and bluebells. Unfamiliar carriages lined the drive and for a moment Tess was convinced she’d taken the wrong path, yet the familiar brick manor loomed.
To her surprise, she found Lady Stadwell alone in the parlor. “Is Lord Marcliffe entertaining?” Tess asked.
“I’m afraid my nephew will have little time to pay us any attention this evening.” Tess blushed. Had her interest in Lord Marcliffe been so pathetically obvious?
“He’s attending to some business.” Lady Stadwell offered her a sympathetic smile. Her towering pile of curls, some real, most fake, had tilted and she swatted ineffectually at a lock of hair that had fallen into her eyes.
Carelessly, Tess deposited the wild flowers on the side table. Certain the disappointment was written plain on her face, she turned her back on her employer and jammed the stems into a vase.
“That’s if you consider interviewing a flock of powdered, perfumed women business.” Lady Stadwell’s conspiratorial whisper seemed louder to Tess’s ears than normal speech. “The stubborn boy has finally taken my advice.” Lady Stadwell’s elbow slipped off the chair’s arm and she sloshed cognac into her lap.
Normally Tess would have rushed to mop it up. Instead, without a word, she fled the room. Her cape hung heavy on her neck as she raced down the hall to the library. Thankfully, the door was unlocked. She pushed it open and tripped over the threshold, landing on her hands and knees amid a sea of skirts.
Lord Marcliffe shot out from behind the desk. “Hortensia, what the devil?”
She refused his offered hand and got to her feet. “I would like to be considered for the position.”
His expression could not be misconstrued. His dark lashes lowered, concealing his sympathetic gaze. “I am searching for certain assets.”
“Assets?”
“Not the ones you possess, Hortensia.” His gaze lifted. He’d apparently found the courage to look at her again. By the way his lips tightened, she was certain he was trying to suppress a smile of pity very much like the one his aunt had given her. Knowing that he found her physically repulsive made her stomach clench. She balled her fists, her fingernails cutting crescents into her palms.
Tess glanced around the room, taking the measure of her competition. There were three women, all quite lovely and all looking at her with varying degrees of amusement and curiosity. Two had applied quite a bit of paint, giving them doll-like appearances. She couldn’t help noticing that they were all dark-haired. Was that, she wondered, a particular preference of Sloan’s, or was it Lord Marcliffe who preferred brunettes?
Her fingers flew to her head to smooth the frizzy dark strands. The wig had once been sleek, but now it resembled a ratty horsetail. She had no money to replace it.
The tall woman standing nearest her snickered. “Perhaps, girls, we ought to leave. It seems we have been outshone.”
“You have indeed. Now, I suggest you shut up,” Lord Marcliffe growled. The woman blinked hard as though she’d been slapped.
Coming to her rescue did nothing to mend the rip he’d put in her heart a few moments ago. “I am not above begging. I would do anything you ask. Anything. ”
“Would you go so far as seducing the man?”
Tess found herself unable to reply. She knew it would come as a complete
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