“Kind of you,” George muttered and banged out of the room.
*
Olivia and Maryhad been enjoying their talk about the novels they’d read when Redcliffe appeared with Mr. Yardley. Any hope of continuing their discussion ofSense and Sensibilitybecame too difficult, because Redcliffe’s presence, so earthy and real, blotted any book hero from her mind.
Soon after, she took her leave, promising Mary to return soon.
With luncheon over, Olivia collected the box of buttons and thread she’d brought down from the attic. The laundry maid was not at her work. The scullery maid, Betty, hadn’t seen Mrs. Hobbs for some hours. “She is often away, Miss Jenner.”
“Did she go to the haberdashery?”
“She visits someone in the village.”
“A relative? I wasn’t aware she had family here.”
“She’s never mentioned them. But she’s not a chatty person.”
In her office, Olivia opened the accounts book. She lifted her head, reflecting on Mrs. Hobbs. The laundress performed her duties well. Olivia could hardly disapprove if she cared for a sick relative. But she should have come to Olivia to explain and seek permission. She would talk to Mrs. Hobbs when she returned.
She looked up, quill in hand when Redcliffe appeared at the door.
“Good afternoon, Miss Jenner.”
“My lord.”Why must her heart beat so fast when he appeared?
He seldom came belowstairs, and she could hear the whispers in the kitchen. She bit her lip. Surely he could have sent for her? She rose from behind the desk as an uncomfortable thought entered her mind, but he motioned for her to remain seated. She sat back down and glanced up at him, wishing he wouldn’t loom over her desk in that fashion. It made her catch her breath. “May I be of help, my lord?”
“Mr. Yardley leaves for London tomorrow morning. My valet and three servants, a young housemaid, and two men will return with the coach. Could you prepare their rooms?”
“Certainly.”
His gaze swept over her face. “Did you find Mrs. Graves well?”
“She is very close to her time but remains in good health.”
He smiled. “I confess to ignorance of such matters.” He turned at the doorway. “You both share a love of literature?”
“Yes, my lord.” An impish thought made her smile. “Not the sort you might read, however.”
He raised his eyebrows in fake horror. “Not those awful Gothic romances?”
Olivia laughed. “No, but they are on our list.”
His mouth quirked in a smile. “We’ll continue our search of the attic tomorrow at the usual time.”
A thrill shot through her, which she tried to suppress. It was reckless for them to be alone. She hesitated, determined to express her concern, but searching for the words. “Would it be prudent to take a footman or maid to assist us?”
His dark brows knitted. “And have all the staff agog?” He smiled.
“Little escapes the servants. They will gossip.”
He shrugged his wide shoulders. “I expect that is so, but let’s keep them guessing for now.”
He was gone before Olivia could argue the point. In any event, she didn’t feel up to the struggle.
Olivia returned to the laundry room. As she entered, the door leading to the garden opened and Mrs. Hobbs came in, removing her bonnet. She stopped, the bonnet in her hands, clearly startled to find Olivia there. “May I assist you with something, Miss Jenner?”
“Where have you been, Mrs. Hobbs?”
