As many as I could forge in one night.
“Of course, my lord,” she said diffidently.
Opening her battered satchel, she took out three envelopes. When she attempted to pass them to the earl, Lord Ethan intervened, snatching the letters.
Rude bastard.
She noticed that he wore gloves, the fine black leather tailored snugly to his long fingers. Were indoor gloves a new fashion amongst bluebloods? God knew they could afford to indulge any whimsy and hated getting their hands dirty. Lord Ethan opened the first letter, and she held her breath as he scanned it. When she was a girl, Mama had forced her to learn a trade that would be useful to the gang, and she’d chosen forgery as the lesser of evils.
“Mrs. Wood can accomplish any task set before her,” Lord Ethan read aloud.“She is discreet, adaptable, and self-driven. In short, she is no trouble at all. Had my own circumstances not necessitated the reduction of my household, I would have kept her on, for she is worth her weight in gold. You will not regret hiring this exemplary woman who is the epitome of moral virtue.”
He paused, studying her.
Had she poured it on too thick with the praise? She hadn’t lied about her talents. Shewasgood at keeping secrets, adjusting to any situation, and following her own instincts. Although the part about virtue might be ateensystretch…
His lordship finished scanning the letters and tossed them on his desk. “These are remarkable references,” he said.
His delivery made her question whether the compliment was, in fact, a compliment.
She raised her chin. “I take pride in my work, my lord.”
“A commendable quality.” The earl cut in, giving his brother a hearty slap on the shoulder. “Just what you were looking for in a housekeeper, weren’t you, old boy?”
Lord Ethan ignored him, keeping his gaze pinned on her. “How old are you?”
“Seven and twenty,” she replied.
Minus four years, but who’s counting?
Since she was interviewing for the most senior female position amongst the household staff, she’d decided to age herself. Using face paint, she’d added subtle lines and shadows to her face. She’d also concealed her freckles and made her complexion pallid, like that of a woman who spent her life laboring indoors.
“Is there a Mr. Wood?” he pressed.
“Deceased, I’m afraid.” She took out a handkerchief, lifting her spectacles to dab at her eyes. “We were only married a year, but my husband was a good man. He died saving children from a burning schoolhouse.”
“I am sorry for your loss, ma’am,” Manderly said sincerely.
Lord Ethan, however, stared at her broodingly.
Had she done it a bit brown?
“Come,” he said brusquely.
He curled a finger at her…as if she were apet. Before she could reply, he turned and prowled toward the door.
She remained where she was. “Where are we going?”
He pivoted. One dark eyebrow winged, accentuating his intense violet-blue gaze. “I assume you wish to see your new place of employ?”
Her heart thudded with a mix of surprise, irritation, and excitement.
She kept her composure. “Perhaps we should first discuss the terms of employment.”
“Seventy-five pounds per annum, plus room and board. A yearly bonus if your work meets my standards. An evening off a week and half a day on Sunday.”
The impatience of his reply did not negate the generosity of the offer. He was giving her the answer to her problems: a room and excellent wages to boot. Of course, her tenure would be temporary, but he didn’t have to know that. This would tide her over until she could resume her work at the Nunnery. She could tolerate anything for a few weeks, even Lord High-and-Mighty.
“Coming, Mrs. Wood?” he asked.
