“Yes.” He looked at the list, then back at her. “There is a second page.”
She stared at him in disbelief.
“I was going to cover the staff hierarchy,” he added quickly. “After the garden.”
“The staff hierarchy.”
“Henderson helped me prepare it. He thought a comprehensive overview in the first week would?—”
“Henderson,” she said through gritted teeth, “is not married to me.”
“No,” James agreed. “Obviously.”
“You are.”
“Yes, I am aware of that.”
“Are you?” she scoffed. “Because you have been speaking to me for thirty minutes as though you are conducting an induction and I am a very promising candidate for the position of housekeeper. I want to be extremely clear that I did not agree to this marriage in order to be managed. You have not once asked me a single question.”
Something moved through his expression. Not embarrassment—James Harcliffe did not get embarrassed easily.
“I was not treating you like a housekeeper,” he assured her.
“Then what were you doing?”
He opened his mouth. Closed it.
Do not say you were being thorough.
“I was being thorough. I was providing information.”
Of course you were.
“Right,” she said flatly.
She turned and walked away down the corridor.
He stood where he was. “Isadora?—”
“I am going to find Violet,” she said, without turning back. “You may add that to the schedule.”
“That is not—” He broke off. “You are being?—”
She turned at the foot of the stairs and looked back at him. He was standing in the corridor with the list in his hand and a shuttered expression.
“I am being what?” she asked.
He looked at her for a long moment.
“I do not know,” he said finally. “I was going to say something that would have made it worse.”
Well,at least he knows.
She turned and went up the stairs without another word.
The house was very quiet behind her, and she did not look back to see whether he was still standing in the corridor.
She looked at the ring on her finger instead.
