In addition to his highly suspicious teeth, the man looked too fit to be a valet. Most valets she’d known were in constant service to their masters. They didn’t have noticeable muscles hugged by their shirtfronts. Mr. Baxter’s shirtfront had been entirely too snug for her liking. The man looked more like an Adonis carved from stone than a flesh and blood man who spent his days tending to clothing.
She had good reason not to trust—both good-looking men and people who looked out of place. And Mr. Baxter fit both of those conditions.
A memory of William flashed through her mind. Tall, handsome, charming. He’d been the love of her life, the man of her dreams, or so she’d thought. She’d quickly turned into a lovesick fool within days of meeting him. There was no possible way she would make that same mistake again.
But she’d been barely eighteen years old when she’d met William. She’d beennaïveand trusting and all the things she no longer was. William was the type of man who thought a handsome face and a charming smile would disarm anyone of the opposite sex. Mr. Baxter was of the same ilk. She could tell. Little did he know, she’d learned years ago how dangerous such men could be.
Yes, Mr. Baxter was a bit too handsome for his own good. Suspiciously good-looking. She would have to keep an eye on himandkeep him at arm’s distance.
But she’d got off on the wrong foot with Mr. Baxter. She’d been far too obviously suspicious of him. Her immediate mistrust of him had made her careless. If she truly wanted to know what he was up to, she needed to beat him at his own game. In order to deal with a man like Nicholas Baxter and find out if he was really up to no good, she would need to charm the charmer.
A smile slowly spread across her face. She could do that. Oh, yes, she could.
CHAPTER FIVE
Beau didn’t see Miss Notley again until after dinner that evening. He’d been in the antechamber with Lord Copperpot while she’d helped Lady Copperpot in the main bedchamber. In their own home, lord and lady each had their own bedchambers and antechambers where they dressed and slept. But because they were guests and the other bedchamber assigned to them was being used by their daughter, Lord and Lady Copperpot were sharing a room at Clayton’s estate, which made for tight quarters between the lady’s maid and the valet.
Given that, Beau again regretted getting off to such a bad start with the young woman. He’d temporarily lost his even-keeled temper and that was unlike him. And they were certain to have to deal with each other quite a bit during the next fortnight.
He’d resolved to be kinder the next time he saw her, to try to be friendly. His work here would involve him attempting to overhear a great many conversations, and Miss Notley could make that more difficult for him if she set herself against him.
Beau was just coming out of the antechamber when she was leaving the main bedchamber. He hurried down the corridor after her, intent on making amends with the woman.
“Miss Notley,” he called in his most agreeable voice.
She quickly pivoted with a bright smile on her face. “Mr. Baxter.” Her demeanor was completely unlike how it had been earlier. Instead of being cold and standoffish, it was almost cheery—and it made him wonder. But he might as well say what he’d intended to say.
He cleared his throat and wiped his countenance of all humor in an effort to appear humble. “I wanted to apologize for my rudeness earlier. You were just trying to protect your mistress and her husband, and I should have respected that.”
He followed this little speech by giving her his most disarming smile. The same smile that had once charmed a princess, a duchess, and one of the most highly paid actresses in Covent Garden. Surely a lady’s maid couldn’t beentirelyimmune to his allure, when he chose to be alluring.
“On the contrary, Mr. Baxter,” Miss Notley replied, still smiling at him in a way that brought out the brightness of her eyes. “I shouldn’ta been so quick ta judge.”
What was this? The lady was admitting to being too disapproving. It was so different from her earlier stance that he briefly narrowed his eyes at her. But he certainly wasn’t about to look the gift horse in the mouth. This was what he’d wanted, after all. Friendship. Or at least cordiality. He returned her smile.
“I’d like it very much if we could be friends,” he continued.
She clasped her hands in front of her and nodded. “Friends. Yes, I’d like that, too.”
“You would?” The words flew from his lips before he’d had a chance to examine them. Frankly, he hadn’t expected to be so successful so soon. He’d been convinced it would take much more than a few more assurances to convince Miss Notley to drop her suspicions about him.
“Why not?” Miss Notley replied, fluttering her eyelashes at him. “We both be here wit a job ta do and I, fer one, intend ta do it correctly. As long as ye do, too, there’s no reason we shouldn’t be friends.” She turned and continued to walk down the corridor toward the servants’ staircase at the back of the house.
Beau jogged to keep up with her, still wanting to ensure he hadn’t misheard her. “I absolutely intend to do my job to the best of my abilities,” he heard himself say inanely. “And I’m glad we can do so and still be friendly with each other.” Well, that was perhaps one of the dullest lines he’d ever delivered. Where had his impeccable charm gone? Where was his polished, debonair manner?
She didn’t slow down, but she did look at him out of the corners of her eyes and he could have sworn the hint of a smile touched her lips.
She didn’t say anything for several seconds, prompting him to add, “That is, there’s no need to be unfriendly, is there?” Christ. That was neither charming, nor debonair. Awkward and ill-advised, more like. Not to mention repetitive. And the entire time he’d been blathering this nonsense, she remained steadfast in her march toward the door, which meant he was chasing after her like a friendless puppy.
Miss Notley made it all the way to the door to the staircase before opening it and turning to face him. She gave him another bright smile. “I couldn’t agree wit ye more, Mr. Baxter. There’s no need ta be unpleasant, is there?”
“Excellent.” He inclined his head toward her. There. He’d accomplished what he’d set out to do. Make friends with Miss Notley. So why did it feel so…unsatisfying?
“Truce?” He held out his hand.
“Truce,” she allowed, shaking his hand with a surprisingly firm grip that sent an unexpected tingle up his arm, before slipping through the door to the staircase and disappearing from sight.
Beau let her go, shaking his head. He listened as she made her way up the staircase to the high servants’ quarters on the fourth floor. He didn’t want her to think he was following her up, so he waited until he heard two doors shut upstairs before he slowly climbed the stairs up to his room. He rubbed his chin, considering the situation.
