While he grappled with that realization, he nevertheless registered the underlying challenge in her declaration and also the faint hint of a burr. She wasn’t local. Keeping his frown from his face, he forced himself to view her assessingly.
Had someone informed him that the Hall now had a chatelaine, he still wouldn’t have expected her. She was young but, now he looked more closely, perhaps not that young. The youthful bloom on her cheeks might be misleading; it didn’t match the awareness in her violet-blue gaze. She had a degree of experience, certainly of people, beyond that commonly found in young ladies of the ton.
She was definitely not reacting to him in the way young ladies normally did. He got an impression of cool starchiness with not a hint of a simper or batted lash to be seen.
She also knew the value of silence, of waiting patiently for the other to make a move…and yes, he and she were definitely on opposing sides of some chessboard.
Lips firming, he conceded, “I see.”
The bustle in the stable returned to his mind, along with an awareness of distant sounds of activity at the edge of his perception. A suspicion bloomed that whatever the nature of the household currently at Bellamy Hall, it wasn’t what he’d thought he would find.
He’d assumed he would encounter a skeleton staff in a largely silent house. Yet he knew of Minnie’s longstanding habit of taking in strays—impecunious relatives, extremely distant connections, and charity cases who had appealed to her kind heart. He should have thought to inquire whether, in that regard, Timms had followed in Minnie’s footsteps. As Timms had always been the more practical of the pair, he’d assumed not.
He was increasingly sure his assumptions regarding Bellamy Hall were about to be proved wildly inaccurate.
Regardless, he wanted to know. Now. He nodded to his chatelaine. “Miss Fergusson. Am I right in assuming your role encompasses that of housekeeper?”
She bit her lip, stifling some rash response, and faint color rose in her cheeks, but after a fraught second, she inclined her head haughtily.
He would have wagered she had no idea how haughty—and revealing—the action was.Who the devil is she?
Instead of demanding an answer he was perfectly certain he wouldn’t get, he said, “While a new owner meeting the staff is often something of a formal affair, in this instance, I would prefer you to escort me around the place and introduce me to whomever we meet, be they staff or…residents currently living at the Hall.”
Damn again!Caitlin fought to keep her features from reflecting her ire.
Just like that, he’d upended her carefully planned and rehearsed sequence of presentations from the various businesses operating within the Hall. That orchestrated performance had been designed to stun him with their effectiveness, thus encouraging him to leave the Hall rolling along as it was, perfectly successfully under her guidance, while he returned to the bright lights and sins of the capital. Now, instead of that assured presentation, she and whichever residents he and she encountered would have to play their revelations by ear.
Rapidly, she canvassed her options, but could see no way of avoiding acceding to his wishes. Sadly, hewasthe owner of the place, and on behalf of herself and the others on the estate, she was going to have to come to terms with him.
Stiffly, she inclined her head and waved down the corridor leading into the east wing. “I believe we’ll find several of our residents this way.”
She stepped out, and within a few strides, he was pacing beside her. Glancing back, she found Cromwell ghosting in their wake.
Facing forward, she saw Cynster, too, noticing the butler.
He caught her eye. “I remember Cromwell from earlier visits. He’s been here for many years. For how long have you been filling the role of chatelaine?”
At close quarters, his deep voice set something thrumming inside her. Smothering the disconcerting sensation, she crisply replied, “For just over three years. I arrived in the dead of winter in ’49, and when Mrs. Timms offered me the position, I accepted.”
“Arrived from where?”
“Farther north.” They’d reached the door of the stillroom. Seeking immediate distraction, she knocked and entered. She wouldn’t have chosen to introduce him to Alice and Millie first, but beggars couldn’t be picky, and she definitely didn’t want him asking more questions about where she came from or her years prior to arriving at the Hall.
Alice and Millie were standing on the opposite side of the long table that filled the center of the room. Both women had been stripping leaves from dried herbs and had looked up at their entrance.
Caitlin smiled reassuringly, held her breath, and waved at her companion, who had halted beside her, staring at the evidence of industry spread before them. “Mr. Cynster, allow me to present Miss Alice Penrose, our resident apothecary, and Miss Millie Carter, her apprentice.”
He blinked. “Apothecary?”
“Indeed. Alice and her products are highly regarded throughout the district.” Caitlin nodded encouragingly to Alice as, having laid aside her herbs, the little apothecary came around the table, a tentative smile on her lips.
Alice was a professional lion and a personal lamb. She was often overcome with shyness until she grew accustomed to a person. Timidly, she offered a hand. “Mr. Cynster. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir.”
Caitlin cast the man beside her a sharp glance and held herself ready to intervene if he was too brash and frightened Alice.
Instead, he smiled gently and charmingly, took Alice’s small hand in his much larger one, and exchanged a perfectly polite nod. “Miss Penrose.” He released Alice’s hand and looked across at Millie. “Miss Carter.” Then he looked back at Alice. “I confess I know nothing about being an apothecary. I had no idea Bellamy Hall housed such an…enterprise.”
“Oh yes!” Alice’s face lit. The apothecary business was her passion; in speaking of that, she stood on firm ground. “I’ve been here, living at the Hall and using this room”—she gestured to the workshop, once a large parlor—“for over seven years. Mrs. Timms thought it a good idea to have such an enterprise at the Hall. She often told me that she wished I’d come sooner, as she believed having an apothecary to hand would have helped her friend, Lady Bellamy. Sadly, her ladyship had passed before I arrived in the area.”
