In Good Company (6 page)

“I’ve already spoken with Mrs. Patterson,” Millie began. “And, while she voiced doubts about finding another family willing to take me on, I’m sure she’ll be successful in the end, especially if I continue to show up at the agency every other day, begging for a position.”

Abigail, to Millie’s concern, plopped back down on the chair. “I do hope Mrs. Patterson wasn’t too unpleasant with you, dear. She should know by now that you can’t actually help the mischief you and your charges always seem to find yourselves in.”

“Mrs. Patterson wasn’t the reason behind the unpleasantness I experienced tonight. Mr. Everett Mulberry was.”

Lucetta abruptly retook her seat as well. “You never mentioned a single thing about running into Everett.”

“Because you just got home, and again, I’m trying to take a
bath, and just so everyone knows, the water is turning a little chilly.” She sent what she hoped was a pointed look toward the door, but her message was ignored.

“Chilly water is incredibly beneficial for a lady’s skin, but back to Everett.” Lucetta scooted her chair forward. “Did his wards run off another nanny, and did he ask you to accept a position with him, and . . . did you feel compelled to turn down his offer because of that pesky attraction you feel for the man?”

“I’m not attracted to Mr. Mulberry,” was the only protest she could think to respond.

“How could you not be attracted to the gentleman?” Abigail countered. “A person would have to be blind not to notice that he’s incredibly handsome. Add in the fact he’s now responsible for three children, and well that must make him downright scrumptious to a lady who has a soft spot for little ones.”

“I do not find Mr. Mulberry scrumptious,” Millie argued, wincing when Abigail sent her an incredulous look. “Oh, very well, I might have, when I first laid eyes on the man, thought he was a little handsome—although
not
scrumptious, mind you. But after he refused to consider me as a nanny for his wards, his handsomeness faded in a flash. Furthermore—”

A knock on the door interrupted her speech.

“Mrs. Hart? Are you in there?” Mr. Kenton, Abigail’s butler, called through the door.

Abigail rose to her feet and moved across the room. “I am, Mr. Kenton, but Miss Longfellow is in the middle of her bath, so in order to preserve her modesty, I suggest you don’t open this door.”

“Very good, ma’am, but I’m here to tell you that Miss Longfellow has a visitor. He gave his name as Mr. Everett Mulberry. May I tell him Miss Longfellow is receiving this evening?”

“Of course she’s receiving, Mr. Kenton. Tell Mr. Mulberry she’ll be down directly.”

“Tell him I’m not available,” Millie called.

“Do no such thing, Mr. Kenton,” Abigail countered. “Millie is certainly available, and she’ll receive Mr. Mulberry in the drawing room in five minutes, ten at the most.”

“Very good, ma’am.”

Listening to Mr. Kenton’s departing footsteps, Millie frowned at Abigail, who’d turned away from the door and was beaming back at her. “I have no desire to see Mr. Mulberry, and since I
am
in the middle of my bath, which does, indeed, make me unavailable, you’ll need to go and make my excuses to the man.”

“You’ve been complaining that your water is getting cold. That means you’ll have to get out of the tub soon to avoid freezing to death, making you available to speak with Mr. Mulberry.”

“Perhaps I’ve decided to heed Lucetta’s advice and enjoy the benefits cold water is supposed to deliver to my skin.”

Abigail shook a finger in Millie’s direction. “I’ll give you ten minutes to make yourself presentable, and do make certain to choose a suitable frock to wear.” With that, and before Millie could voice another protest, Abigail opened the door and slipped into the hallway, closing the door firmly shut behind her.

“Your unexpected return has certainly put a lovely bounce in Abigail’s step.” Lucetta said as she rubbed her gloved hands together. “Why, she’s fairly bursting with schemes, and I, for one, could not be more delighted, especially since she’s definitely fixed her scheming ways on you.”

Lucetta glided over to the door. “I’ll just go keep that
scrumptious
Everett company while you make yourself presentable.” Lucetta drifted out of the bathing chamber, the distinct sound of laughter following her.

Seeing no point in remaining in a tub of cold water with
bubbles that were rapidly disappearing, Millie climbed out, wrapped herself in a soft bundle of fine linen, and moved to her adjoining room. To her surprise, Miss Bertha Miller, an older woman Abigail had recently hired on as a maid, was already waiting for her, a situation that sent apprehension racing down Millie’s spine.

Bertha made no secret of the fact she absolutely adored Abigail, that adoration cemented forever when Abigail had hired the woman on the spot after she’d learned Bertha had been unable to secure employment due to being almost sixty years old. That kindness meant Bertha was incredibly loyal to Abigail, and that loyalty, mixed with the pesky little fact Bertha seemed to be holding a lot of blue silk in her arms, had Millie’s apprehension turning to downright alarm.

“I was just about to come and prod you out of the tub, but you’ve saved me that bother,” Bertha said as she marched determinedly Millie’s way. “Mrs. Hart is of the belief you might be a little confused about her request to dress in something suitable, so she sent me to assist you with . . . this.” Bertha shook out the silk and smiled. “Isn’t it lovely?”

“Without question it is, but I think a dinner dress might be a little too much for wearing about the house, particularly since I’m not exactly planning on going out to dine this evening.”

“Mrs. Hart went to the extreme bother of taking your measurements to Arnold Constable & Company to get you this perfect gown, which she has requested you wear tonight. Because of that, I’m sure you won’t want to repay that bother by refusing to wear her gift, or any of the other garments she purchased for you.”

Millie’s brow scrunched together. “Other garments?”

“She ordered you a new wardrobe.”

“Why would she have done that?”

“To help you on your way toward getting settled, of course. Something I and the rest of the staff are in full agreement with.” She held up the blue silk and gave it another shake.

“Why does everyone I encounter seem to have some type of mad plotting on their minds these days?”

“You’re a lovely young lady with no prospects, Miss Longfellow. Plotting is definitely required by everyone who knows you to better your situation in life.”

“I don’t believe Mr. Mulberry is here in order to become a future
prospect
for me. If I were to hazard a guess, he’s here to swallow that annoying pride of his in an attempt to secure my services as a nanny, which is far removed from a prospective anything.”

“While that might be the case, it won’t hurt to have you looking your best.” And before Millie could voice another protest, blue silk was thrust her way as Bertha bustled into motion.

Fifteen minutes later, not ten, Millie made her way down the stairs, feeling like a complete idiot. Not only had Bertha stuffed her into the dinner dress, she’d also tied a bow into Millie’s short curls, pinched Millie’s cheeks to give her added color, and had even suggested Millie might want to add a little . . . stuffing to the bodice area to really attract Mr. Mulberry’s notice. Pretending she hadn’t heard that less-than-helpful suggestion and knowing her cheeks were flaming, which had made the whole pinching thing unnecessary, Millie had fled from her room before Bertha could think up any other wonderful ideas.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she forced feet that didn’t seem to want to move into motion and headed for the drawing room. Hovering in the doorway, she tried to steady nerves
that had taken to jingling, surveying the scene in front of her as she did so.

Mr. Everett Mulberry was standing in the middle of the room, holding a large bundle of flowers wrapped in what seemed to be newsprint. Lucetta was standing right in front of him, chatting about what sounded like the weather, but it was immediately clear Everett wasn’t exactly listening to her. His eyes were a little glazed and he seemed somewhat dazed. Millie couldn’t really blame him for the whole dazed situation, since Lucetta
was
known as one of the most beautiful ladies in all of New York.

A trace of wistfulness took Millie by surprise, brought on by the disturbing notion that there was a part of her, albeit a small part, that wished a gentleman like Everett would look at her with . . .

A loud sneeze interrupted her thoughts, and then Everett sneezed again, right as his eyes began watering.

“Forgive me, Miss Plum, but I haven’t been able to concentrate on a word you’ve said,” he began as he held out the bouquet of flowers. “Would it be too much of a bother to have you hold these for me until Miss Longfellow appears? I’m afraid I’m somewhat sensitive when it comes to flowers, and I’m beginning to lose the ability to breathe.”

Lucetta, strangely enough, sent Everett an approving sort of look before she nodded in Millie’s direction. “Millie’s just arrived, so you can hand those to her.”

Spinning around, Everett narrowed still-watering eyes on her, took a second to look her up and down, which had her feeling a little flustered, and then strode right up next to her. Without saying a single word, he thrust the flowers at her and then practically raced to the other side of the room. Whipping out a handkerchief, he wiped his eyes before he frowned.

“Good heavens, Miss Longfellow, I must beg your pardon.
By your appearance, it’s clear you’re readying yourself to go out this evening. Would it be more convenient for me to call upon you tomorrow, say . . . midmorning?”

Millie forced a smile. “There’s no need for you to return tomorrow morning, Mr. Mulberry, since I’m, ah, not planning on going anywhere this evening.”

“Why are you wearing a dinner dress, then?” he asked before he dissolved into a bout of sneezing, giving Millie much-needed time to consider a suitable response.

“I, um, enjoy dressing in dinner gowns when I’m at my leisure?” was all she managed to come up with since she certainly wasn’t going to tell him Abigail had been behind her unusual clothing choice.

Everett lifted his head from his handkerchief. “That seems like a rather odd thing to do.”

“Perhaps, but . . . since you obviously have a reason for being here, do you truly believe it’s in your best interest to argue with me or . . . insult me by insinuating I’m odd?”

Another sneeze was Everett’s first response, before he blew his nose, then smiled somewhat weakly in Millie’s direction. “Excellent point, Miss Longfellow, and to correct that, may I say that although I find your choice of dress somewhat peculiar, you do look remarkably charming at the moment, quite different from how you normally look.”

For a second, her knees felt all wobbly, but only until she actually considered what he’d just said. “I’m not sure that was much of an improvement, but tell me, Mr. Mulberry, are you, by chance, hoping that your attempt at complimenting me will have me feeling more disposed toward whatever business you’re evidently here to propose?”

“What a wonderful use of the word
disposed
,” Lucetta said before Everett had a chance to reply.

Millie turned to Lucetta. “I learned it just today—from Mrs. Cutling, of all people—as well as the word
execrable
, but I haven’t yet been able to fit that appropriately into any of my conversations so far.”

“Your interest in words is truly inspiring, Miss Longfellow,” Everett said, speaking up, apparently not quite done with the whole complimenting business. “And it’s also inspiring how much you seem to enjoy children, which is why I just
happened
to bring my wards with me this evening.” He turned and nodded toward a fainting couch placed in front of the fireplace.

Millie didn’t know whether to laugh or shake her head when she finally took note of the three adorable children smiling brightly her way. All of them had strawberry-blond hair, hair that undoubtedly hadn’t seen a good brushing in a while, and all three of them were wearing very unusual frocks, ones that certainly hadn’t been professionally sewn.

Glancing back to Everett, Millie arched a brow. “I would have never taken you for a coward, Mr. Mulberry, but honestly, do you really believe carting out your wards is going to convince me to agree to whatever madness has you seeking me out so late at night?”

Everett smiled almost as brightly as the children. “Now, now, Miss Longfellow, there’s no cause to call me a coward. Smart like a fox, perhaps, but—”

“You shouldn’t antagonize her, Everett,” Lucetta suddenly said, interrupting Everett’s speech before she turned to Millie. “And
you
shouldn’t be surprised he brought the children with him, considering everyone knows you have a distinct weakness for the wee ones. However, before the conversation moves forward, I really am going to have to insist that the two of you drop all of this Miss and Mister nonsense. We have a common friend in Oliver Addleshaw. Which means, like it or not, we’re
now friends of a sort. And because of that, there’s really no reason for such formality.”