“You made a little sound.”
“I did not.”
“You did,” Felix said, his grin as seductive as… well, she no idea what was seductive. Other than Felix’s grin. Other than… Felix.
Curse it all. Stand her ground.
“What are you doing interviewing these women?” she demanded.
He crossed his arms over his chest, reminding her of all his muscle. “You need a housekeeper. And maids. And a cook. You seem unwilling to hire them yourself.” He shrugged. “I’m helping.”
“You’re interfering.”
He craned his head to one side then the other with a grimace then pulled the writing desk and one of the chairs to the middle of the room and sat behind it, readying a quill and paper. “Will you stay for the interviews? It is probably for the best. Since they will be serving you, not me.”
Oh.That knocked the wind out of her somehow. Of course, the servants were for her, not him, notthem. She wanted him gone. But somewhere between his pale nightmare-ravaged face and the line he’d licked across her collarbone, she’d begun to… like him here.
Rubbish.
She pulled up a chair to sit beside him. “I’m staying.”
“Excellent.”
“Me too!” Polly lifted her chin at a haughty angle.
Felix looked to Caroline.
She nodded. “Polly stays.” The other woman’s disapproving eye would keep Caroline from further error.
“Very well,” Felix said. “Miss Polly, will you admit the first applicant?”
Polly did, and the interviews began, and each woman who stepped forth made Caroline’s stomach sink. “This is excessive,” she said after Felix had hired a tenth woman. “How many did you intend to—”
Felix scratched something on the paper before him and spoke without looking up. “All of them. This place is bigger than I remember. It will take a large staff to run it.”
A large staff. Too many eyes and ears and mouths.
By the time he had, indeed, hired all of them, telling the lot to return tomorrow, she was despairing.
“Miss Polly”—Felix leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head in that habitual motion that strained the very fabric of his coat, and that made her mouth water—“could you tell the women that until the servants’ quarters are habitable, they are to remain in the village, visiting from noon to five each day.”
Polly grumbled but left, and Caroline almost called out for her to remain. How else would she shield herself from Felix?
With her rising irritation, that’s how.
He folded the paper he’d been writing on then pulled a bit of ribbon from his pocket. He tied it around the folded note then slid the whole thing across the desk toward her. She ignored it, standing and planting her hands on her hips, so he’d know she was quite, quite serious.
“You cannot give orders here.” Good. She sounded firm, resolute.
He took the folded paper and held it out to her between two fingers. “I am, though. And I will. Since you seem incapable of taking care of yourself.”
She threw her arms out wide, ignoring his offering once more. “Do I look unwell, my lord? Do I look frail and sickly?”
He stepped closer, his booted foot resting between her slippers, beneath her skirts, and wrapped one arm around her waist as he slipped the folded paper into her pocket with the other hand. “You look”—his eyes glowed with something like hunger—“delicious.”
She dropped back down into her chair.Ignore him.“I have aplan, Felix.”
He groaned, sinking into his own abandoned seat.
