Mr. Tate shrugged. “A gentleman knows how to inspire loyalty.”
Rosanna thought back to the conversation she’d had with Mr. Malcolm. The false groom had claimed his master to be a good man, but she knew enough about servants to know that goodness and generosity wouldn’t buy the abject silence that had come from his staff.
“Did you threaten to sack them?” she asked.
“Of course not,” he replied with a scoff. That smile came out in force. “I know my behavior hasn’t been perfectly honorable of late, but surely you know me better than to think I would go about threatening my staff.”
“Servants gossip, yet they said not a word.”
With a shake of his head, he said, “Mine do not. I don’t tolerate them spreading my business about.”
“And if they do?”
Mr. Tate’s brows furrowed. “I cannot allow it to stand. My family’s secrets are our own. But it’s not as though they get turned out without reference or something so cruel. I ensure that they are fairly compensated and find a new position elsewhere. My privacy is important.”
“And how would you do that? Boxwood Manor is one of the finest homes in Greater Edgerton, and there are not that many opportunities to find such a good position. They might be forced to leave here or take an inferior post elsewhere.”
But Mr. Tate merely stood there.
Rosanna stared at him, blinking as he stared back at her. “Good heavens, did you not see they were terrified? And for what? You claim you are a good master, but inspiring such fear is hardly a mark in your favor.”
Straightening, Mr. Tate huffed. “You make it sound as though I am a tyrant, but I assure you I am generous. I treat them as well as any master I know and far better than their former master. I didn’t threaten their positions—”
“You didn’t have to!” replied Rosanna. “You are the master. Their livelihoods and future depend on your benevolence. Do you not see how precarious it is for those below you? You have all the wealth and power. The rest of us are at your mercy, and you cannot even see it. Or do not wish to.”
Glancing away from him, she felt like sighing at the sight of Prudence’s street ahead. She walked past him, striding towards it.
“Perhaps you are right,” said Mr. Tate with a tone that made it sound as though that concession was a great thing, though with such a large qualifier at the beginning, it negated any good the last three words did. “However—”
“No,” said Rosanna, marching towards the crossroads and turning towards her end goal. Just four doors down. “The past few weeks may have proven to you that I am worthy of your notice, but I fear it has only made it clear to me that you are not worthy of mine, Mr. Tate. Please, leave me be.”
The Humphreys’ doorstep was just ahead.
“Miss Leigh, do not be so hasty—”
“I am not, Mr. Tate. You are not the man I thought you to be.” Her hand gripped the door handle as Mr. Tate took hold of her elbow. Pulling free, she added, “And I do not care for the man you are. I am done with pompous gentlemen who think they can buy loyalty and affection. I came close to marrying one last year, and I have no interest in allowing another into my life.”
Swinging open the door, she stepped through and shut it in Mr. Tate’s face. Knocks sounded against the wood, but Rosanna sagged against it, struggling to calm her breathing and her thundering heartbeat.
“Is someone there?” echoed a voice from the bottom of the stairs just ahead. Sally’s head poked up from the basement, and when she spied Rosanna, her eyes widened. “Oh, Miss Leigh.”
The maid-of-all-work hurried over to her and bobbed. “I’m afraid Mrs. Humphreys isn’t home at present.”
Rosanna sighed. “I had feared she wouldn’t be, but please allow me to stay just a moment.”
“Of course, miss,” she replied with another bob. “Can I get you anything?”
With a shake of her head, Rosanna sent the girl back to her work and then scurried up the stairs and hurried into the sitting room. Inching towards the window, she peered down at the figure on the doorstep. Mr. Tate remained there, staring at the front door with a frown.
No doubt the gentleman was contemplating the first rejection he’d ever received.
*
Having reached the venerable age of thirty, Malcolm Tate knew how the world worked. He managed a large and prospering estate, as well as his family’s investments and holdings, and navigated society with little trouble. One could not do so much without having a healthy amount of intelligence and ability. And yet he stood there like a fool, staring at the door Miss Leigh had just closed in his face.
The past few minutes played through his thoughts like a whirlwind, swirling around as though attempting to give order to the chaos, but Malcolm was left more befuddled than before.
What had just occurred?
