Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage 05] (10 page)

He rose, filing away that useful piece of information.

The footman Jonathan asked, “Will there be anything else, Your Lordship?”

“No. Thank you.”

The footman left just as Miss West breezed into the room. “I’ll be happy to pour, if you wish, my lord.” Her demeanor was smoothly professional, yet her tone was still cool as ice, and she would not meet his eyes.

Steele frowned, feeling as if he’d lost ground with her and not liking it one bit. “Thank you.”

She nodded and moved to the tea set and poured. She’d changed into a pale blue gown with short white ruffled sleeves and a white band woven neatly below her lovely bosom. The gown looked as if it had once
been a darker hue, but had faded over time. For some reason this bothered Steele. It wasn’t that he expected her to be in silks and lace, but still, she needn’t look so…dowdy.

The thought surprised him, as he’d never once looked at the attire of his servants with anything less than an eye toward functionality. He supposed when it came right down to it, he’d never quite looked at one of his servants through the eyes of an appreciative male.

The thought rankled, since he knew that he shouldn’t be looking at Miss West in any such way. But he was a healthy male of barely over thirty, hardly dead, and not yet done appreciating a lovely female form.

Maybe I should marry
, he realized. There certainly were some benefits. But the real issue was: Could he find a respectable young lady with excellent connections who wouldn’t bore him to tears?

E
xcept for the anxiety and anger lacing her tongue, Abigail tasted nothing. The fine Oriental tea was wasted on her, as was the fresh raspberry scone sitting untouched on the plate before her.

She kept waiting for the gentlemen to broach the subject of the incident in the park or the topic of her dismissal. Or at least give her a hearty tongue-lashing. Instead, Mr. Linder-Myer and Lord Steele seemed content discussing the weather, the latest news in the broadsheets, and not much of anything of import.

Abigail wished that they’d get to it already instead of making her twist in the wind.

After a while, Abigail realized that if she listened carefully, there was an undercurrent to the gentlemen’s conversation that she did not understand.

Lord Steele certainty paid a good deal of deference to the agency representative. Even if Mr. Linder-Myer was a gentleman, Lord Steele was paying an inordinate amount of respect to the man. Mayhap it was the old gent’s age, or his cheery demeanor, but somehow Lord Steele seemed to have a great deal
of patience for someone so very far beneath him in station.

Did it come from Lord Steele’s past? Or was there something more to this relationship?

Mr. Linder-Myer turned to Abigail. “So, Miss West. How do you think the boys are adjusting to their new home?”

She focused her attention on the older gentleman. “As well as can be expected, I suppose. They’re resilient, certainly. Else they’d hardly be as well as they are.” She shifted in her seat. “Yet it is quite a difficult transition, Mr. Linder-Myer. Felix feels tremendous responsibility for being the elder, and Seth, well, he doesn’t understand Felix’s need for privacy with his grief. Seth misses his mother terribly. They both do. Everything is so new, everyone is so different…” Her voice trailed off as the enormity of the boys’ pain squeezed at her heart.

Scratching his chin, Mr. Linder-Myer looked troubled. “Is there nothing that can be done?”

Biting her lip, Abigail kept her eyes trained on the tips of Steele’s shiny black boots, as she dared not meet his eyes. “Well, perhaps if they got to know everyone in the house a bit better…”

Abigail felt the force of Steele’s scowl like a windstorm pressing against her skin.

Steele uncrossed and recrossed his long legs. “They’ve hardly been here a week. Give it some time.”

Tapping his finger to his lips, Mr. Linder-Myer’s eyes narrowed and fixed on Abigail with an intensity she found unnerving. “So you think that the boys miss their mother?”

“Terribly.”

“Do you believe that a child needs a mother?”

The familiar grief splintered her heart. “Yes. Unequivocally, yes.”

“And a governess is no replacement for a mother?”

She shook her head, confused by the direction of this conversation. “No…”

“Even though a special bond can develop between a governess and her charges, it cannot compare to one’s mother.”

“No. Of course not…but…” The seed of a bad feeling planted itself deep in her middle.

“Governesses come and go, but a mother is forever.”

That bad little seed in her middle blossomed into a full-blown feeling of awfulness. “Well, yes…”

Mr. Linder-Myer lifted his gray bushy brows and glared pointedly at Lord Steele.

Lord Steele grimaced and busied himself with his tea.

Anxiously Abigail clutched her hands, trying to hide her grip inside her skirts. She peeked through her lashes at Lord Steele, but he wouldn’t meet her eye.

Oh no! Don’t sack me! Please don’t sack me!

Leaning forward, the old gent cleared his throat. “Is it not true that you’ve been a governess in a number of different homes, Miss West?”

“Ah, pardon?” A familiar burning feeling itched at the backs of her eyes, as she braced herself for the worst.

Mr. Linder-Myer frowned, as if she were being obtuse. Well, she was. And she wasn’t about to make
it any easier for him to dismiss her. He’d made it quite clear that she was dispensable. Not a very nice thing to do by her way of thinking.

Mr. Linder-Myer jabbed his cane on the floor, his craggy features fixed, his green eyes intent. “Yes or no, young lady. You have served in many homes and been with many families.”

Lord Steele straightened, and his gaze fixed on Abigail. She felt the force of his attention like a warming stove that had been opened, and all she wanted to do was slam it closed and get out of the kitchen.

Her fingernails bit into her palms but she couldn’t care, not when Lord Steele was looking at her as if she were the source of a terrible disease and Mr. Linder-Myer seemed intent on seeing her shunned.

Exhaling, she prepared herself for the guillotine blade that was about to drop. “Yes. I’ve been with a few different families.”

Seemingly pleased, Mr. Linder-Myer nodded. “You see, my point exactly!”

Abigail didn’t see at all and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Instead she busied herself by reaching for a scone and taking a bite. It was like eating sawdust.

Her throat closed, and a dry cough erupted from her mouth.

“Are you all right?” Steele asked, rising.

She tried to motion that she was all right, but she was coughing too hard. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment.

Steele came over to her and patted her back.

“I’m…I’m…” Her were eyes tearing, her throat aching, and mortification made her squirm.

“Here, drink some tea.” He handed her the teacup and cupped his hand over hers as she drank.

She sipped gratefully, the tea soothing her scratchy throat. Steele’s touch warmed her in a way that was far too affecting for an employer. Maybe it was a good thing she was being sacked. Being around Steele was becoming harder and harder, or in truth, delicious-er and delicious-er. His effect on her was scrumptiously intoxicating enough to be dangerous, certainly for her as his employee.

But oh, how she’d miss the astonishing thrill deep in her middle whenever their eyes met, and the rare but wonderful touch of his silky smooth skin. It was easier to think of that than the children. No, she couldn’t bear to dwell on losing them.

After a moment, she lifted her head. “Ah…thank you.”

“Would you like some more?” Steele asked. He was so close, she could see the hint of black stubble that was trying to break through his skin.

Inhaling a shaky breath, she smiled. “No, I’m fine.” The pleasing scents of male and the gingery spiced cologne he wore blanketed her.

He removed his hand from hers. She felt bereft by the loss of that caring contact and knew that it would be a long time before she forgot the touch of his hand. Her fingers still felt warm where he’d held her. “Let me know if you want any more.”

Breathless, she smiled. “I…ah…thank you….”

Nodding, he moved back to sit in the chair opposite.

Mr. Linder-Myer adjusted his leg, wincing as if in
pain. “So as I was saying, you’ve had a variety of employers.”

Abigail sighed, knowing that it did no good to argue with an employer who’d decided that you were no longer needed. “Yes.”

“What attributes do you feel make a good mother?”

Abigail started. “Ah…what…beg pardon?”

Mr. Linder-Myer waved a hand. “You had to have noticed that some mothers are good and some are dreadful.”

Abigail shifted in her chair, confused as to what this had to do with sacking her. “I wouldn’t call any mother I’ve ever worked for ‘dreadful’…”

The old gent’s eyes twinkled. “You can share the tittle-tattle; we won’t tell.”

Pressing her hand to her chest, Abigail straightened. “So this isn’t about me?”

“You? I’m not helping Lord Steele here retain a second governess. I don’t think it’s necessary for two boys. Do you?”

A
second
governess. So they weren’t replacing her. “Ah, no.”

Mr. Linder-Myer continued, “Although we might consider retaining a tutor at some point, that’s not the topic. And while I know what qualities are important in a member of staff, I’m a little less clear on good traits to be found in a mother. You know, for children.”

Abigail relaxed, starting to accept that she wasn’t being sacked. “Well…patience is important. And a good heart, certainly. Compassion. Sympathy.”

“What about education?”

Abigail lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “One hardly needs to be a scholar to make a good mother.”

“Can it make any difference whatsoever?”

“Well, if you’re thinking about an education for the children, then it does help to have a parent who believes in the importance of learning and instruction.”

“Not just having tutors around.”

Abigail nodded. “I think so. If the children see education as something valued by the parents, valued in the household, then it can be a good influence.”

Mr. Linder-Myer nodded. “Interesting. Anything else?”

“Ah, well, I suppose a sense of humor helps…”

“How so?”

“Children can be trying at times, and it’s easier if one doesn’t take herself too seriously.”

“Excellent point.” Winking at Abigail, Mr. Linder-Myer beamed. “Especially if the father is a stick-in-the-mud.”

Steele scowled. “I’m not a stick-in-the-mud.”

Abigail turned to him, surprised.

“A little levity wouldn’t kill you,” Mr. Linder-Myer countered. Leaning forward conspiratorially, he waved his cane toward Steele. “He’s in the market for a new wife, you see.”

Abigail felt her middle drop to somewhere below her knees. “Ah, I…didn’t know that…” Why did she feel so disappointed? It wasn’t as if he were interested in her. And a viscount certainly wouldn’t look twice at a mousy employee with faded gowns, frayed shawls, and dog-eared shoes.

She suddenly realized how stupid she’d been, dwelling on the touch of his hand or the look in his eye. There had been no connection between them when their eyes had met. It had all been the creation of the overly active mind of a desperately lonely woman.

“Have no fear, whatever happens won’t affect your job,” Steele murmured, not meeting her eye.

She bowed her head, feeling dejected and pitiful. She was even more the fool for feeling so awful about the whole thing. She was three-and-twenty and felt older than the great English oak that had been standing at Andersen Hall Orphanage for three hundred years.

She needed to find Reggie. He was her only family, the only living person in the world with whom she could truly claim a connection. She couldn’t rely on anything or anyone else.

Clearing her throat, she looked up. “I have a friend. She’s ill.” Her words were stilted, but all plans for a smoother introduction of the topic fell away in light of the hole she was feeling in her heart.

Steele looked more diverted than concerned, as if he were anxious to change the topic. “Oh? I’m sorry to hear that.”

“She’s an orphan, like me, and has no one.” Knowing that the lists of Andersen Hall residents went back only a few years and didn’t include her or her brother, Abigail added, “We were at Andersen Hall Orphanage together.”

Mr. Linder-Myer’s cat green eyes were curious. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Cancer. Dreadful business. She’s in terrible pain…”

Steele frowned. “Is there anything that can be done?”

Abigail exhaled with relief at the opening he’d given her. “Yes. I want to see her. See to her comfort.”

Steele’s face looked pained. “I can’t afford to have you leave the boys…”

“Of course I wouldn’t leave the boys. I would never neglect my duties. But after they’re abed…you don’t need me then, do you?”

Surprisingly, Steele looked to Mr. Linder-Myer, and some unknown message passed between them.

She rushed on as the lies gushed forth, “I can’t imagine that she’s long for this world…it would mean a lot to me to be able to comfort her in her final days…”

Steele nodded. “So long as it’s after the boys are abed and it doesn’t otherwise interfere with your duties…”

“Never.”

“Then it should be fine.”

Abigail felt her shoulders drop with relief.

Steele added, “Please be sure to have Cook provide you with some soup and breads for her. We always make extra for such occasions. And I’m sure Mrs. Pitts has some blankets, too.”

Abigail felt a tad guilty as she nodded. “I’m so very grateful. Thank you so much, my lord.”

He waved a hand as if it were nothing. “It’s the least we can do.”

“Well, I appreciate it.”

“I’m sure the lads are missing you. Why don’t you go check on them while I see Mr. Linder-Myer out?”

Mr. Linder-Myer started. “Oh yes, I do have a business to run and governesses to place.” He stood. “Thank you so much, Lord Steele, for your gracious hospitality.” He turned to Abigail, his green eyes twinkling. “It was such a pleasure to encounter you again, my dear. I know we’ll have the opportunity to see each other quite soon.”

Abigail frowned, wondering why Mr. Linder-Myer thought that they would be seeing each other soon.

At the look on her face, the old gent explained, “Oh, haven’t I told you? I’m helping Lord Steele find his new wife.”

Lord Steele looked as if he were about to argue but then closed his mouth.

Mr. Linder-Myer beamed. “He’s in quite the hurry. And if I have anything to do with it, which I do, we’re to make short work of it. I’ll bet ten shillings he’ll be wed within the month.”