Why didn’t he read them?And how long did one remain standing under such circumstances? She felt a bit like she was hovering over him, but he didn’t seem to mind or even notice her. She would guess a man in his position would have servants hovering over him quite a lot. It must be second nature to him; he must be immune to the presence of another. She didn’t mind standing there—she very much liked to look at him. Really, the only criticism she had of this glorious man was that his style of communicating was rather painful. His style being none at all.
He looked up and seemed startled to see her. She felt that spark of something delicious in her again. She smiled. “Miss Woodchurch?”
Oh. He didn’t know what she wanted. “I, ah... I thought you might want to look at the letters I wrote for you. Perhaps there is something you’d like to see changed? In my experience, sometimes I am quite satisfied with the first letter I write, but other times, I must attempt it twice or even three times to get it right.”
He seemed confused by this. He glanced at the letters on top of his stack. “I will review them in due course.”
“All right.” She remained standing, not certain what to do with herself.
He frowned. “You may take tea now.”
Yes! A perfect solution and something to do with her hands, which she happened to be gripping at her waist as if hanging on for dear life. She glanced around for the tea service. “Where...?”
“In the kitchen.”
Thekitchen? But of course. Her fantasy of a partnership notwithstanding, she was in hisemploy. He was not going to send for tea or ask after her day. He expected her to do what he’d asked and then make herself invisible, like any good servant. She debated asking if he would like her to send for tea for himself, but he had that look of concentration directed at his papers again.
“You may go, Miss Woodchurch,” he muttered.
Well, then. She’d been dismissed. And if she wasn’t certain of it, he made a gesture to the door, indicating she should scurry along.
Hattie scurried, all right, her face flaming as she went.
It was a miracle that she found the kitchen, as confusing as she found this grand house. But there was a portrait of a woman who had caught her eye the first time through. She was wearing pink silk and panniers, and her hair was styled two feet high. She had a bit of a smile on her lips, as if she could see that Hattie was out of her depth here.
“No need to laugh,” Hattie muttered as she walked by the portrait.
The staff dining room was empty. No one about at all, save two young women in the kitchen, preparing for the evening meal. They both looked surprised when she walked into the kitchen. “Umm... His lordship said I should take tea.”
The two looked at each other. One of them spoke to the other in Spanish. That one wiped her hands on her apron. She left the kitchen through another door and the first girl went back to work, scrubbing potatoes.
A moment later the girl returned with a gentleman Hattie recalled was the butler. He had a linen napkin stuck in his collar—she had clearly interrupted a meal. Was she meant to do everything wrong today?
He seemed terribly confused by her. “Miss Woodchurch?”
“I beg your pardon, Mr....”
“Borerro.”
“Mr. Borerro. The viscount has employed me to do some corresponding for him. In English. I don’t speak Spanish. That might be obvious, but in case you were wondering.”
Mr. Borerro exchanged a look with the two women.
“He said I should go to the kitchen and have some tea. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”
“Ah, is that it? Come.” He gestured for her to follow, escorting her to the staff dining room. “Please, take a seat.”
“I don’t want to be any trouble,” she said as she walked to the table. “I don’t really need tea, but the—” She turned back to the door and found that Mr. Borerro had disappeared. “But the viscount told me to,” she muttered as she took a seat.
She could hear Mr. Borerro’s deep voice speaking in Spanish in the kitchen. Moments later, one of the girls came in with tea and tiny little pastries. She set the tray in front of Hattie. “Thank you,” Hattie said.
The girl responded with more Spanish than seemed necessary, smiled and went out of the room.
Hattie poured tea into a cup and examined the pastries. They were flaky and delicate, and when she bit into one, she almost moaned with delight. The pastry was filled with a sweet cream as light as air. She ate all three of them, then licked her fingers.
She drank her tea and waited until she thought a suitable amount of time had passed. She’d been sitting here a quarter of an hour. How long should tea for one take? At home, she rarely took tea with her parents, because that was the time they most liked to argue with each other. But a quarter of an hour felt unpardonably short.
But she couldn’t sit here. She collected her tea service and returned to the kitchen. The two women stopped what they were doing and stared at her. She placed the tea service on the center kitchen table. She smiled. “It’s dreadful to take tea alone. It would be much better with a friend.”
