Rory looked behind him, found his housekeeper in the crowd of servants, and beckoned her forward. “What position?”
“The governess position,” Miss Brooking replied calmly as though she always appeared unannounced at people’s doors with runaway children in tow.
“What are you doing walking about the grounds with my daughter?” he said. “We have been searching the house for her this past hour.”
Miss Brooking glanced at Frances, and a look that spoke volumes passed between them. “I think it would be best if we discussed that in private.”
“You think—” Rory sputtered and couldn’t seem to form any further syllables.
“Right now, Miss Frances is quite famished. Harriet too.” She indicated the doll, and Rory was thankful at least one piece of this muddle snapped into place. But why was a grown woman speaking about a doll as though she were alive?
“I’ll take her into breakfast,” Mrs. Mann said, reaching out for Frances’s hand. But Frances drew back, using Miss Brooking as a sort of shield.
“I won’t go unless Genevieve comes with me.”
“Don’t argue, child,” Mrs. Mann said, grasping for Frances, who simply jumped behind Miss Brooking. Miss Brooking raised a hand, and to Rory’s surprise, Mrs. Mann straightened and waited. He watched in wonder as Miss Brooking knelt on the ground, no doubt dirtying her dress, and spoke quietly to Frances, her hands on the girl’s shoulders. Then she lifted the doll and spoke to it as well, which made Frances giggle.
The sound shot straight through Rory. It was a sound he had never heard from his child, a sound that did something to his heart before he pushed whatever the feeling was back down again. The little girl nodded at Miss Brooking, then, just as primly as you please, stepped away from her and held out her hand to Mrs. Mann, allowing herself to be easily escorted away.
Rory watched his housekeeper lead his daughter to the dining room then turned back to Miss Brooking, who was dusting off her skirts. “Should I wait for Mrs. Mann or come back another time?” she asked.
Rory simply stared at her.
“About the position,” she clarified.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said. “You’re hired.”
Chapter Four
Genevieve had thoughtshe’d be ecstatic if she was offered the position at Lilacfall Abbey. It really was the perfect job. The estate was only three miles from her mother’s home. If her mother felt unwell or needed Genevieve, she could be home within the hour.
Another advantage of the position was the fact that she would only be responsible for one child. Genevieve had cared for as many as four, and while she had enjoyed that challenge, what she wanted now was focus. Clearly, Miss Frances Lumlee needed someone to focus on her.
She had not anticipated the disadvantages of the position. Namely, the large disadvantage standing in front of her. She had heard very little concerning Lord Emory. In her past experiences, she rarely had occasion to interact with the master of the house. Genevieve would have asked the housekeeper about him, but she hadn’t expected to be confronted by him before she’d even been hired. But here he was, ushering her into a parlor of the house and closing the door so they were alone together.
Genevieve turned and looked up at Lord Emory. He was quite tall, by her estimation over six feet. Oh, and he was handsome. She’d noticed that when she first saw him, but now, seeing him in close proximity, she found it difficult to meet his eyes or look at him for very long without feeling slightlybreathless. It was no exaggeration to claim that he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. It couldn’t even be said that this was a subjective opinion. The man wasobjectivelyhandsome. Her quick peeks at him showed her his face was perfectly beautiful and symmetrical—straight nose, chiseled cheekbones, square jaw. That jaw had a bit of stubble on it. His hair, dark and thick and somewhat wavy, was quite disheveled as well. He was dressed in breeches and shirt sleeves, which was another indication he’d been abruptly roused from sleep, probably to search for his missing child. No wonder his brows slashed downward over his lovely brown eyes. Were they brown? She blinked. More of a brandy color, really. Frances’s eyes were similar.
And then, because she couldn’t really help herself, she allowed her gaze to drop, just for an instant, to his neck and the V of his shirt. That glimpse of bare skin made her take a quick breath before she clasped her hands together and gave him a pleasant smile. She kept her gaze just below his eyes. Looking into them was a bit too overwhelming. “Will Mrs. Mann be joining us?”
“No,” he said.
“I see.” This was not good news. Titled gentlemen did not discuss compensation or the terms of employment with their servants. Those were the details she sought now. “If I don’t speak with her, how am I to know if I will accept the position or not?”
“You’ll accept,” he said.
Genevieve cocked her head. She didn’t particularly like his tone of voice or the way he spoke as though every word he said was an order. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’ll tell her to give you whatever you ask.”
Genevieve blinked.
“Answer me this. How did you get my daughter to go into breakfast?”
Whatever she asked? Any salary she asked for? Surely, he didn’t mean what he’d said. “Breakfast?” she said distractedly. “I told Miss Lumlee her doll was hungry, and after breakfast I would devise an adventure for us.”
Lord Emory put his hands on his hips. “How did you know you’d secure the position?”
Genevieve smiled. “I couldn’t be certain, but if you don’t mind my saying so, your housekeeper looked rather desperate. I understand completely, as I found Miss Lumlee sleeping in the gazebo when I arrived this morning.”
