She waved off his greeting. “Really, Andrew. There is nothing good about it.” She sat in one of the chairs before his desk to catch her breath.
He rose and took the chair next to her. “What is it that has you so flustered?”
She set her fingers against her temple. Her hand seemed smaller, bonier. “It’s Cook.” She said the word as if it was the most distasteful word in their language. “She served carrots at dinner last night. You wouldn’t know because you were abed. But Mrs. Bolton was appalled at their quality. You must talk to her.”
“To Mrs. Bolton?”
“No. You must talk to Cook and tell her that if we are served such mediocre vegetables again that you will dismiss her. Mrs. Bolton says that the only way to get the servants to do as you wish is to threaten to dismiss them.” She gave an emphatic nod.
He stiffened, his instinct fully alert. “I’m not sure that would be the best way to approach the subject. After all, Cook has been with us for over ten years now and we have never had any problems with her.” Though he knew a few of the staff were a little intimidated by the assertive woman, that was hardly a reason to dismiss her.
“Well, it’s up to you, of course. As long as I’m not embarrassed again in front of Mrs. Bolton.”
For a woman who didn’t care a whit for what the lower classes thought of her, his mother seemed overly concerned with her companion’s opinion. “Tell me, what else does Mrs. Bolton advise.”
His mother’s face brightened. “Oh, I’m so pleased you are ready to listen now.” She patted his hand where it lay on the arm of the chair. “I know you have been heartbroken over Lady Amelia turning you down, but now that you are over it, I can tell you about the changes we need to make.”
“Changes?” He hoped she didn’t plan to dismiss their loyal staff.
“Oh yes, Mrs. Bolton says that our parlor is very outdated. I thought a lovely rose color would do well in there. Also, you have Mrs. Bolton in the attic, which for a woman of her age is just too much. I thought we could move her down a level?”
It was beginning to appear that he’d left Lyonsmere for far too long. “Really?”
“Yes, oh, and we must purchase a better coach, one with a better ride.” She leaned forward. “Also, Mrs. Bolton says we must not eat any more blancmange as it plays havoc with our moods.”
That was it. It was time for him to have a talk with Mrs. Bolton or she’d find herself dismissed. “We are not eliminating blancmange from our menu. It is my favorite dish. As for the carrots, the weather has made it impossible to grow the usual quality vegetables this year, so we will make do. And there will be no redecorating or purchasing of a coach. And lastly, Mrs. Bolton will remain in the attic and if that does not suit her, she can move to another room far away from Lyonsmere.”
His mother just shook her head at him and patted his hand again. “You’re just testy because you were thrown over. Don’t worry, dear. We can talk of this in a few days after you meet your prospective wives.”
His blood ran cold and his throat closed. Swallowing hard, he took his mother’s hand in his. “What do you mean, prospective wives?”
His mother gave his hand a squeeze, though it was so light, he may have imagined it. “You didn’t think I’d let you moon after some woman who can’t see what a wonderful husband you would make? I sent invitations to all the families in the area, letting them know that you were looking for a wife and to please call.” Her prideful smile made it hard not to grimace and he clenched his jaw to keep from yelling.
Carefully setting her hand back on her lap, he rose. “That was very thoughtful, but I will be very busy and will be unable to meet them. I will be happy to resume my search during the season.”
His mother rose as well. “Andrew, you can’t hide all winter. There can’t be so much to do that you can’t spare a few hours to chat with these ladies. Mrs. Bolton has agreed to review each one and make recommendations.”
He opened his mouth to ask what possible qualifications Mrs. Bolton would have to make such a determination, but snapped it shut. It was definitely time to talk to Mrs. Bolton. He glanced at the clock and dread crawled up his spine.
Taking his mother’s arm, he walked her toward the door. “You had best get ready foryourcallers. Please give them my regrets, but I must meet with a tenant today.”
“Must you really?”
His mother’s disappointment hurt, but he was aware of his own limitations. “Yes, I must.”
Her smile returned. “Then Mrs. Bolton and I will be sure to discuss our visitors and I’ll give you a full report over breakfast tomorrow.”
He opened the door, not making any commitment. “Have a lovely afternoon.” As soon as she was gone, he closed the door and leaned against it. What else could possibly go wrong?
Movement outside the window caught his attention and he cautiously moved to it. The coach of their neighbor, who last he’d heard, had two unmarried daughters, pulled up. And there was his answer.
Looking past the drive to the snow-covered fields, his itch to be outside became unbearable. He moved back to the study doors where his mother just exited and slipped out, taking the servants passage to the back door. He grabbed a cloak off a hook nearby and settled it on his shoulders. Yes, he was a coward. Yes, he was escaping.
And yes, he couldn’t bear to look into anyone’s eyes that didn’t twinkle with blue amusement.
Chapter Twenty
Amelia raised herhand to knock on her mother’s bedroom door, then dropped it. Her mother was the only one who might understand what it was like not to be able to paint for three long weeks, but that could mean having to confess she’d had Andrew to her studio unchaperoned. If she revealed that, she wasn’t sure what her mother would do. She could possibly force her to marry him. If anyone knew how wonderful he’d made her feel, they’d definitely insist on the marriage.
