“How do you usually get in at night?”
“We leave it unlocked.”
“So we won’t have to wake anyone. Use the front door, Miss Georgianna, and I’ll use this one.”
“But I need to explain you to Bertha,” she protested, but he’d put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around.
“I can explain. You go up the front steps and I’ll stay here and watch until you’re safely inside.”
A sudden uneasiness filled her. “You aren’t just going to turn and run away, are you?” she said suddenly. The thought was wrenching.
“No.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then? You promise?”
“Yes. Now go on.”
She was reluctant to leave him, but he wasn’t giving her much choice. She kept her gaze on him as she went around to the front of the house and started up the steps, but he didn’t move, watching her as she reached the door. It opened, of course, and she turned back to him, to wave, to wish him good night. But he was already gone.
Rafferty edged back around the side of the house and went up the two steps to the sidewalk, closing the iron gate behind him. If he was going through with this, and it looked like he was, he was going to need to shave off his beard and find a decent dark suit. He’d had a bath two days ago, but it looked as if another one was necessary, and he had an unusual fondness for bathing, something he hadn’t been able to indulge in much during the last few months. If he was going to win over the mettlesome Bertha, he’d best be on his good behavior. Not that he had any doubts—there’d never been a woman he couldn’t charm if he put his mind to it, and the Mannings’ bad-tempered cook would fall as all the others had.
He hadn’t set out to charm Georgie Manning. For one thing, she was too young. For another, he couldn’t see any benefit in it, and he was always alert to what would benefit him. He also hadn’t charmed Norah Manning, but he knew if he had the faintest desire to do so, he could change her mind about him. He’d sooner push her into a rubbish heap. He’d met other women like her, bedded them, and they were a tedious lot.
It was a good thing he didn’t need much sleep. By the time he’d bathed and shaved and secured the proper clothes, it was close to six in the morning, and the Manning household would be awake and at work. He let himself in the servants’ entrance to the old house, landing him in the kitchen, and he looked around him with interest. Bread was rising on the cookstove, and he could smell Earl Grey tea with its thick bergamot scent overriding kippers and bacon.
“Who the hell are you?” the woman by the table demanded, fixing him with a steely stare. She was in her fifties, plump and immaculate, and she was glaring at him as if he was a rat who dared invade her territory. The fearsome Bertha, no doubt.
“I’m Rafferty, the new butler.”
“You are not,” she shot back. “This household hasn’t paid a servant in over a month. If you take my advice, you’ll turn around and walk straight back out of here.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. Miss Georgiana hired me, and I promised I’d be here.”
“Miss Georgie,” Bertha said with a dismissive sniff. “She’s as crazy as the rest of them, and what’s she got to do with hiring a butler? That’s her father’s business, and he knows far too well that no one but a fool would agree to work for him.”
“Then I’m a fool,” he said easily. “You’re Bertha.”
Her gimlet eyes narrowed. “What did they tell you about me?”
“That you’d put the fear of God into me,” he replied.
That surprised a bark of laughter from her. “Well, they told you true, at least.” She looked him up and down. “You don’t look like a butler.”
He glanced down at his immaculate black suit. “Why not?”
“Too big for one. Too handsome. What kind of experience have you?”
“None.”
“Well, that sounds about right,” Bertha said with a sigh. “Sir Elston’s awake by now—you may as well start by bringing his tea up to him. He lost his valet two weeks ago—are you any good at shaving?”
He touched his bare chin. “I’ve done it a few times.”
“Good. You take care of Sir Elston and I’ll take care of the ladies. Wouldn’t want you to go traipsing around in their bedrooms anyway, though Miss Norah would likely bite your head off. Go on with you now.”
“Who the hell are you?” Sir Elston Manning demanded as Rafferty let himself into the suite of bedrooms at the top of the stairs, and he stifled a grin.
“I’m Rafferty, sir,” he said, setting the tea tray down on the small table by the bed. “Your new butler.”
