Page 173 of The Cottage at Brambleton Hall

‘Ah . . . Miss Jenkins; I’ve been looking for you.’

‘Sir.’

‘If you would come with me ... to my office.’

She followed, still carrying the linen.

The door shut with a soft thud. The desk was bare save for the framed photograph of Mr Wetherby. Magnus moved behind it, then stopped, as if reconsidering, and came back around to stand beside the desk instead. ‘There is something with which I require assistance,’ he said.

‘Of course.’

He twisted one of his cuff links. ‘I find myself in possession of a free afternoon tomorrow. Sir is insisting that I . . . take the day off.’ Sammy resettled the stack of linen in her arms. ‘I would like to know what one does with such a thing.’

A small sound escaped her before she caught it. She shifted the linen higher.

‘What do people do . . . on a day off?’ he asked.

‘You could go down to the harbour,’ she said. ‘Sit outside the pub. Have a drink.’

Magnus inclined his head slightly. ‘Indeed.’ He reached into his waistcoat. The chain shifted, the watch came out, but he didn’t open it. His fingers returned, fished around and he brought out a key. Magnus held it, turning it between his fingers. ‘You will require this,’ he took the linen from her, setting it down on the table, and gave her the key. ‘Properly this time.’

The metal pressed cool into her palm. Sammy was momentarily lost for words ‘Sir . . .’

‘Someone once gave me a chance,’ Magnus said. He reached around the sheets for the photograph. His thumb moved briefly across the side of the frame, not quite touching the image itself. ‘My first head butler. Mr Wetherby. I did not arrive in service . . . fully prepared,’ He set the photograph back down. ‘I made an error. I allowed loyalty to override judgment.’

Sammy folded her fingers over the key. ‘You have made a similar error.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘I know I did.’

‘Do you?’

‘I won’t do it again.’

‘I have informed the household that you are the most capable appointment I have made in twenty years.’

She knew from what Victor had told her that Magnus had said things like this when she wasn’t there to hear them. Hearing the words from him now left her unexpectedly lost for an answer.

Magnus’s voice steadied again. ‘But if you ever – ever – permit such a lapse again, you will be removed from this position immediately. Do I make myself clear?’

Sammy’s fingers closed more firmly around the key. ‘Yes, Mr . . .’

‘It is Magnus.’

‘Yes . . . Magnus.’

His gaze flicked once more to the photograph. ‘Standards are maintained for a reason. You have met them, Miss Jenkins.’

Sammy put the precious key in a pocket and picked up the linen. She didn’t trust herself to speak straight away. ‘Sammy,’ she said. ‘Please.’

‘Sammy.’ He said. ‘Do not make me regret this.’

She noticed the name before she noticed the warning. ‘I won’t.’

He studied her a moment longer. ‘You remind me of someone,’ he said.

‘You?’ she asked.

‘Indeed.’