Chris heaved a sigh. “I told you I would. I was quite clear before I left this morning.”
“I assumed they’d send you home again in a box.”
The waistcoat followed the coat, slung carelessly through the air, forcing Brooks to go scrambling to catch it. Chris said, “You’ll have to pardon him. He’s got a foul temper. Not very butlerly of him.”
Phoebe blinked. “I’m not certainbutlerlyis a word.”
“Is it not? Should be.”
“Butleresque?” she suggested. No; that didn’t sound right. “Butlerlike?” That wasn’t quite it, either. “At any rate, I’m certain he’s a fine butler. But perhaps he’d find himself of a more pleasant disposition if you did not antagonize him.”
Brooks tucked Chris’ discarded clothing beneath his arm and managed a relieved bow. “Thank you, my lady.”
“It’s justMiss, actually.”
“It’s justMrs., actually,” Chris corrected. “Mrs. Moore. She’s the lady of the house, now, Brooks, so you should take your directions from her.” He plucked at the buttons on the front of his shirt with one hand, the tip of his cane striking the marble floor with each step as he strode for the stairs. “I’ll be in my study for a while. Send up some supper, won’t you, Brooks? Night, Phoebe.”
And then he was gone. Her husband had deserted her in the foyer of his massive house with only his butler for company on her wedding night.
“My apologies, madam, for so unseemly a display,” he said. “I’m fairly certain the master has no particular use for a butler except that he knows he’s meant to have one. We don’t get on particularly well.”
Somehow, she had the impression that her husband did not get onparticularly wellwith most people. “If you’d prefer toleave,” she said, “I could write you a letter of reference.” She’d never had to do it before—at least, it had never been among her responsibilities before now.
“Regrettably, I owe that miserable sod my life,” Brooks grumbled dispiritedly. At Phoebe’s inquisitive glance, he clarified: “My sister got herself into a spot of trouble some time ago. Got involved with Lord Lymington.”
“Lymington?” Phoebe was only vaguely familiar with the name. He was known to have accrued a great many debts and a good many more excuses for not paying them. NotGood Tonas Mama would have said.
“He took her for his mistress,” Brooks said. “But neglected to pay what he owed her. And when he didn’t, she helped herself to some trinkets of his. Hardly worth what he owed, but...”
But theft was theft. And theft was very often a hanging offence. Or at least a transportable one.
“Of course, Lymington took exception to it. He demanded a great deal of money in recompense. Money I didn’t have. I borrowed from some unsavory characters, but when I couldn’t repay what I owed—well, they were determined to have their pound of flesh from me.”
“And Mr. Moore rescued you from them?” Phoebe asked.
“Paid off my debt in full, on the condition that I come work for him. We’d get on better if he were inclined to heed my advice. Which he is not. Could you—”
“We don’t have that sort of marriage,” Phoebe hastened to say. “I doubt he’d listen to me any better. But—” Eventually, he would have to. He meant to trade upon her name, after all, and her comparative respectability. Perhaps, slowly, she might guide him toward becoming the sort of man he meant to be. Or at least toward giving a good show of it. “That is to say, I’ll do my best. But we must not expect miracles.”
“I see,” said Brooks. “Well, then. Shall I show you to yourroom?”
“Oh—not just yet. Could I have a look around first?”
“Of course, madam. The house is yours.” He gave another bow, the proper sort a butler was meant to give, and for the first time since she had entered her new home, Phoebe found herself relaxing just a little. “I shall leave you to it,” he said. “You need only ring if you require assistance.”
∞∞∞
The other side of the wall looked just the same, and yet so very different. There were no roses in his garden, but the fragrance of them perfumed the air anyway, blown in on the breeze from neighboring gardens, she assumed. The gardener—if one happened to exist—had been terribly lax about this duties. The stones of the walkway had not seen a good cleaning in some time, and had darkened to a dingy grey mottled with streaks of dirt. Dandelions dotted the grass, sunny yellow heads bobbing in the wind. Malformed hedges in desperate want of pruning grew wild and unencumbered, nearly overgrowing what once must have been a lovely garden path. And there, just a few feet from the bench that had been placed against the stone wall, a pond had been carved somewhat haphazardly from the lawn and lined with small, flat stones. A rush job, it looked like, and for no discernable purpose. It was not particularly aesthetically pleasing, nor large enough to be an impressive feature.
Perhaps it was simply another thing he thought he had been meant to have. A butler, a pond, a wife—all necessities, to his mind, whether or not they were actuallywanted.
She didn’t want to be wanted as a wife…but it would havebeen nice to have been wanted as a friend. A companion. With a sigh, Phoebe sank down upon the bench; the same one he must have occupied all those nights they had shared speaking over the wall.
She had rather enjoyed those talks. He didn’t seem to know how one was meant to conduct a polite conversation, and it made him—if not apleasantconversationalist, exactly, then at least an interesting one. He was not, she suspected, at all accustomed to guarding his tongue or his thoughts with any particular degree of circumspection that might have otherwise been expected of a gentleman. Most would consider it a liability at best, and at worst, definitive proof of his low moral character.
Phoebe thought it rather refreshing. Even if he had a marked tendency toward vocabulary that could strip the varnish off of a table with its coarseness, still he had a sort of earthy honesty about him that was compelling for its very rareness.
They would have a comfortable marriage, she supposed. Polite, if distant. Perhaps at some point, they would be something more than merely strangers sharing the same house. If not friends, then at least friendly.
