True Story (The Deverells, Book One) by Jayne Fresina

pinned him again with her steady regard. Her lips parted a
little, allowing the escape of one crisp, frosty huff.
    He bounced upright, scraping chair
legs loudly across the stone floor. "Jim, this is my new secretary,
Mrs. Monday. She's come to help me write my memoirs."
    "Aye, sir. I just carried the lady's
trunk upstairs to the old nanny's room."
    "Excellent. We must take very good
care of her. She seems to think she's not welcome, and we can't
have that, can we? This, Mrs. Monday, is Jim Jameson, the handiest
man on the island. Far more use than me, as you will no doubt
agree."
    Jim tugged off his cap. "Pleased
you've come, Mrs. It's time we had a lady about the place again.
There's been no woman here since..." he screwed up his face,
struggling to recall, "well...since the young miss went orf to her
mother."
    "Quite." True turned to look at his
new secretary. "Since my ingrate daughter upped and left me there's
been no reason to keep a female on the permanent staff. You will
find us a rough-edged, uncivilized bunch, Mrs. Monday."
    She stood, pushing her
chair back and muttering under her breath, " Really? "
    True scratched his chin where she was
making his stubble itch. He was quite sure she caused the
irritation. Perhaps it was her perfume. Although very faint, it had
stealthily crept into his notice while they talked. He began to get
the sense they'd met before, but he couldn't think where. It was
rare for him to forget a face. "I'll show you to your room
now."
    "If you give me directions
and a lamp, I'll find my own way. Sir ."
    "You will not. I'll lead the
way."
    "But I'd much rather—"
    "I insist."
    From the tightening of her lips, she
was not accustomed to relying on anybody to show her
anything.
    "I hope you're not going to be
difficult, Mrs. Monday," he added smoothly.
    She glared.
    "I expect my employees to do as
they're told." He gestured at the door with one sweep of his riding
crop. "It's a small island. No room for contention and
disobedience."
    "I've never been contentious in my
life," she muttered— an unmitigated lie as he knew already. And as
she further proved in the next moment.
    On her way to the kitchen door she
stopped in front of his handyman and said curtly, "I understand
this is tradition, Mr. Jameson," before leaning forward and
planting a kiss on the fellow's weathered cheek. "For
luck."
    The poor man, staring bewildered,
tipped backward like a wooden skittle at the village fete, but
somehow kept his balance.
    Having performed this little display,
she arched a defiant eyebrow in True's direction and then marched
out of the kitchen, leaving a slender drift of that insidious
perfume in her wake.
    Jameson's eyes had glazed over. "Well,
I never...."
    "Do close your mouth, Jim, before
something flies into it." True hurried after the truculent woman to
stop her wreaking further havoc.
    Aha, there she was, moving across the
hall, as if she didn't think she needed a lamp or his
direction.
    He overtook her with his long stride.
"I must give you a tour of the house, Madam. Sims usually obliges
the guests with his—"
    "Surely that can wait until
tomorrow?"
    Holding the lamp high, he studied her
frayed expression. "I'll take pity and give you the shortened
version then. Sims is the history enthusiast and he usually gives
the tours, but I'll try my best in his absence."
    She closed her lips in that grim line
again. The woman must be wondering what she'd got herself into, he
mused. Made two of them.
    "Roscarrock Castle was built in
fifteen...something or other... by the third Earl of...something or
other. The fellow didn't live in it for long as he lost his head to
the temper of Good Queen Bess and then the property passed to the
crown. It was left empty for many years. No one fancied the
isolation, it seems. The place is rumored haunted by the headless
earl, so if you hear steps up and down the gallery late at night,
best not look out to see who it is."
    He bounded ahead of her up the stairs.
When he