She could avoid him. She should avoid him.
But instead of heading for the morning room, she descended the stairs and then meandered toward the door of the long dining hall.
Where she found the man who’d kept her awake all night hard at work, a box of silverware, a tin of polish, two soft rags, and inventory charts spread out beside him.
But he was not alone.
One of the prettier chambermaids hovered at his side. What on earth was a chambermaid doing in the dining room? Was the poor girl lost, or was she as enamored with Mr. Cockfield as every other female in London?
“What should I do, Mr. Cockfield?” The maid’s voice halted Violet before she could make her presence known. “My mother was most gratified when I landed the position here, but Freddie won’t take no for an answer.”
“I suppose that depends on the question, Suzie,” he answered.
Hearing his voice, Violet shivered. The man currently shining the silver—the butler—had kissed her the night before. He had kissed her and then entered her bedchamber! Yet, Violet had done nothing to stop him from doing either. Because I didn’t want to stop him.
“He says he wants to marry me.” This sounded like a private conversation. But rather than leave, Violet remained to hear his response.
“And how will he provide for you?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Cockfield. I didn’t think to ask.”
“A pertinent question if you’re considering leaving your post, wouldn’t you agree?” He spoke with patience, addressing the young woman’s concerns with all the solemnity of a bill in Parliament.
He afforded the same respect to servants that he did to his employer’s family. It was as though he was completely removed from the differences imposed by England’s class system.
Violet silently shifted her weight from one foot to the other. How many times had she observed Mr. Cockfield in conversation with one person or another and assumed the worst?
What did that say about her?
“I thought all that mattered was how I felt about him. He did mention that he loves me, and I think I might love him back.”
“Are you sure he wasn’t talking about something improper?”
“Mr. Cockfield!” Suzie’s face flushed pink.
“Ask him how he’s going to support you and demand the details. If he has a solid plan for how he will care for you, it was love. If he does not, keep your position here.”
Suzie nodded. And then she curtsied. “I will. And many thanks for your advice, Mr. Cockfield. I don’t know how things ever got on around here before you came.”
He raised his brows and placed a shining spoon back in the velvet-lined box. “I am happy to help. And, Suzie?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t hesitate to come to me again if you have further questions.”
The maid bobbed again, uttering more thanks, but then turned and caught sight of Violet.
“Oh, Miss Faraday! My apologies. I didn’t see you there.” The girl was obviously mortified, wondering how much Violet had overheard.
It hadn’t been fair of Violet to eavesdrop. Mr. Cockfield seemed to bring out all her less-than-ladylike habits.
“I just now came down,” Violet reassured her. “I was hoping to have a word with Mr. Cockfield. Beautiful morning, isn’t it?”
“It is, my lady,” the girl addressed her incorrectly in her nervousness and then hastily escaped, leaving Violet hovering in the doorway, nervous herself now, and questioning her ill-fated decision to seek him out.
The silence in the long hall following the maid’s departure was deafening, and rather than invite her inside or ask her why she’d come, Mr. Cockfield replaced the last piece of silver in the box and turned the key to lock it.
Only after it was back in the cabinet was Violet afforded his full attention.
