Lady in Green (7 page)

Love would have to be deaf and dumb besides to settle on Mrs. Annie Lee. The notion of an unfortunate Mr. Lee offended the earl’s sense of justice. The unfortunate notion of Mrs. Annie Lee in his cozy little love nest offended his aesthetic soul. There just had to be a way of getting the house without this housekeeper from hell.

“You seem young for such a responsible position,” he began with a lie, having no way to guess the woman’s age with so little of her showing. At least she had not gotten out of breath on the stairs.

“I
have been holding house for years,”
Annalise
quickly replied, happy to be telling the truth. She’d been managing Thompson Hall since her mother’s death. “Hen—my aunt Henny trained me. That’s Mrs. Tuthill, in the kitchen,” she added. “Her, ah, rheumatics make it too hard for her to manage anything but the cooking.”

Blast, the witch was a relative to the Tuthills. That meant he’d have to give up the treasure in the kitchens and that man who was a dab hand with the horses, too, just to be rid of her ugly phiz. It was worth it.

“Have you been here long?’ he asked, preparatory to mentioning that he had an old family retainer in mind for the position.

Annalise knew she’d be found out as soon as he made inquiries, so she answered, “Not personally, but the family…
”
She let her words trail off.

Ross knew all about lines of service passing from father to son, mother to daughter. Hell and tarnation. Well, if he had no grounds to dismiss her on issues of loyalty or longevity, he still had the matter of remuneration. He could just refuse to pay.

“The rental agent mentioned nothing about your salary being included in the terms. I am not prepared to—”

“Oh, but we have nothing to do with the land agent. It’s more a private arrangement with Lady Rosalind. Here.” She whipped a letter out of her pocket, held it under his nose for a moment, then snatched it back. As far as he could tell, Lady Rosalind had abominable handwriting, but her signature was there, all right, under a line that seemed to have read,
Annie
(something),
Always welcome. Stay as long as you want. Fondly.

“Lady Rosalind took her butler and abigail along with her, of course,” Annalise went on, thinking that sounded likely, “but meant for us to stay with the house. She said any gentleman hiring the premises could be expected to honor her commitments.”

That tore it. Gard was trapped with the subtle emphasis on
gentleman
and
honor
, the hag’s intention, of course. He’d have to keep her on. At least his mistresses wouldn’t have any jealous complaints. And she seemed surprisingly well spoken for a servant. See, he congratulated himself, there was something to admire even in the homeliest woman. “Yes, yes, I’ll take the house.”

“Excellent. Our salaries amount to eighty pounds per annum. Thirty for myself, twenty for each of the Tuthills, ten for Lorna, the maid. That’s twenty pounds quarterly, payable in advance. Uniforms not included. Vacations and half days as per custom. Additional wages for extra servants for heavy cleaning or large parties shall be determined later. Housekeeping expenses cannot be estimated until we know the style you wish to maintain. Oh, and we require advance notice for company.”

On the other hand, Lord Gardiner told himself, there was nothing whatsoever admirable about an ugly woman with the mind of an accountant and the
arrogance
of the royal
we.
He swallowed a sharp retort. The demands were not outrageous. Gads, he spent more than eighty pounds on a pair of boots. He simply was not used to dickering prices with servants—that was Foggarty’s job, or his man of business’s. He had certainly never haggled with a female employee in his life. The women he usually had dealings with were never so vulgar as to mention money at all, merely hinting at a pretty brooch they’d seen or a diamond pendant. That was obviously not suitable in this instance. He nodded curtly.

Annalise released the breath she’d been holding. “Fine. When shall you be bringing Lady Gardiner around to inspect the premises?”

“Lady Gardiner? Mother? Here? When hell freezes over, Mrs. Lee!” Gads, he wondered if the woman was queer in the attic besides being ugly as sin.

“I meant your wife, my lord,” she offered hesitantly.

His bark of laughter shook the hairs on her cheek. “I’m glad to see you have a sense of humor, Mrs. Lee. You were bamming me, weren’t you?” She was wringing her hands again like something out of
Macbeth.
He laughed again. By all that was holy, the woman was a prude! Here he had the perfect solution, a way to get rid of the cloud and leave the silver lining. “I thought you understood, working for Lady Rosalind and Lord Elphinstone as you did. I shall be bringing lady friends here, daily, nightly, whatever. Of course I’ll give notice when possible, as I agreed.”

He got no response. Blast, he wished he could see behind those tinted lenses! “And I shall expect you to make my…friends welcome. You know, flowers, bonbons, bath salts, the kinds of things women like.” Then again, perhaps she didn’t know. Damn, she was nodding mutely. The woman was as hard to get rid of as a toothache. So be it.

The earl took out a roll of bills and peeled off a small fortune in pound notes. “Here are your wages, and uniform and household expenses. As you can see, I do not wish to stint on anything. I’ll make separate arrangements with Tuthill about acquiring a carriage to leave here, but I wish you to purchase personal items my friends might forget to bring with them, robes, hairbrushes, et cetera. Do you understand?”

The woman was clutching her stomach as if she were about to be sick. Gard refused to feel sorry for her. Be damned if he was going to go shopping for negligees and perfumes when he was paying such a handsome wage. If she wanted the position so badly, she’d just have to earn her keep. “Oh, yes, and fetch me a dressing gown, a banyan or something. Can you do that?”

She grunted her assent, or groaned. He couldn’t tell which, but she took the money from his hand. “I’ll send over a change of clothes later. It will be a relief to have fresh linens on hand. I do like things clean, Mrs. Lee. That’s one of the reasons I decided on this house, your excellent housekeeping. Keep up the high standards and we’ll get along just fine.” He could swear her lip curled, but he went on anyway. “There’s just one thing more, Mrs. Lee, and then I will let you go about your duties. Understand this: you are all sacked if a single word of my involvement here reaches my mother’s ears.”

*

If a single word reached past Annalise’s lips again, she’d be surprised. She was so shocked, so utterly dumbfounded, she could only nod as the elegant nobleman retrieved his high-crowned beaver hat and gloves from the table in the hall. She only just remembered to curtsy when he left to speak to Rob about a carriage.

“Try to have everything ready in a day or two,” he’d said on his way out. “I’ll send a message when to expect me.”

“He can send his message to hell!” Annalise exclaimed, finally finding her voice twenty minutes later when Rob came back into the kitchen. “I’m sure they are expecting his lordship’s arrival daily! Let him just see what kind of welcome they give him!” Not even hot tea and the last of Henny’s strawberry tarts could calm Miss Avery’s rage. The dastard had eaten all the rest!

Rob straddled one of the kitchen chairs and lit a pipe. “What did you think a fancy young buck like him wanted with such an unfashionable address?”

“I never thought he wanted it to set up a…a bordello!”

“Tain’t that at all, chickie. Just somewheres cozy for him to be private-like, away from all the rattlin’ tongues of Mayfair.”

“He talked about bringing friends for cards and such! He’ll be throwing orgies next thing you know!”

“Now, what do you know about orgies, huh, chickie? Anyways, the gov told me as I’d be fetchin’ young ladies from Drury Lane and such.”

“Ladies, hah!”

Rob took a deep pull on his pipe and watched the smoke rings rise. “He don’t seem evil to me, just a young buck sowin’ his wild oats.”

Annalise pounded her fist on the table. “Not in my house, he won’t!”

“But it ain’t your house, chickie, that’s the point.”

Henny stopped banging her pots and pans around and took a seat at the table. “But, Robbie, Miss Annalise’s reputation! No young lady should even know about such things, much less be living amid such carryings-on! We’ll have to leave, that’s all.”

“Can’t do it without makin’ people wonder what happened and why. No, no hope for it. ’Sides, it’s safer this way. Even if Sir Vernon happens to locate Lady Rosalind’s address, there won’t be a trace of any Miss Avery, just a swell and his sweeties.”

Annalise grimaced, but she knew Rob had the right of it. “I have no reputation left anyway, Henny, not after running away and spending all those nights on the road. No one would believe I’m innocent of nothing worse than avoiding marriage to a womanizer. Hah! This philanderer is worse. At least Barny kept some loyalty to his Sophy!”

“Maybe we won’t have to stay too long,” Henny said hopefully. “Just till we get word to your aunt.”

“I already sent letters through the foreign office and the embassy. One of them has to reach her. I know she’ll come or send for me, and I’m sure Lord Elphinstone can have the guardianship overturned. He has to!”

Henny patted her hand and poured more tea. “He will, dearie, he will.”

“And meantime his lordship ain’t so bad,” Rob commented.

“Rob, he’s a libertine!”

“He’s generous with his blunt, knows his cattle, and likes Henny’s cookin’. That’s enough for me. I’ve worked for worse.”

“He’s a despicable, lust-ridden whore-monger!” Annalise insisted. “And you don’t have to work at all if you don’t want to!”

Rob made another smoke ring. “I wouldn’t leave you alone here, chickie, even if Henny’d let me. ’Sides, I’ve a mind to see the fancy lord’s fancy pieces.”

Both women glared at him.

*

The next morning Henny was humming while she baked enough strawberry tarts for an army. Rob was whistling when he went off to the livery stable to see about Seraphina and a coach for his lordship. Miss Avery was loudest of all, gnashing her teeth.

“Ain’t he the handsomest thing that ever lived?” the maid Lorna rhapsodized, skipping along at Annalise’s side as they went to the shops. “He’s got the broadest shoulders in all of London, the bluest eyes, and the nicest smile I ever seen.”

“The man’s a rake!” Annalise stormed back. “An unprincipled, immoral rake.”

“Me mum says they’re the only sort worth having.”

“Hogwash,” retorted the ladylike Mrs. Annie Lee. “You’ll want a nice, steady fellow when you’re old enough, not one with a roving eye.”

“Yes’m,” the little maid replied doubtfully, ready to agree with her new benefactress. She’d never had so much money to bring her mum at once, with the promise of a new dress and some pretty ribbons for her hair, and good smells coming from the kitchen. If this lady wanted his lordship to be Old Nick himself, Lorna would help look for his horns and tail next time he came.

Lorna had no doubts whatsoever that the housekeeper was a lady, a real lady, no matter what rig she was running. Lorna had watched the sickly looking miss who called for Miss Ros turn into the hideous Mrs. Lee, even helping tear up one of the lady’s fine petticoats to making a binding for her chest and a hump for her shoulder with the rest of the muslin. She’d gazed in wonder as the cook mixed up a batch of flour and stuff to make a yellowish powder for her skin and then added a little sugar and water to affix the mole. Whatever hugger-mugger was going on, this was better than the Punch and Judy show at the ice fair. And Lorna was getting paid for being in it! She danced along at Mrs. Lee’s side.

“Get ready for his friends, he said,” Annalise was muttering. “I’ll get ready, all right.”

“Ma’am?”

“I don’t care what Rob says, I refuse to live in a bawdy house! I’ll show that bounder the error of his ways, or die trying!”

“Oh, ma’am, you can’t be thinking of worriting his lordship. He’ll up and leave!”

“Exactly. If I discourage him enough, he’ll get out. We’ll find proper renters next time, a family or a pair of retired schoolteachers or something.”

“You’ll get us fired!” Lorna wailed.

“No, I won’t be so obvious.”

She did not buy him a hairshirt instead of a dressing gown, for instance; she just bought him a robe at least two sizes bigger than she estimated he needed, and slippers two sizes smaller. She did not purchase dowdy flannel nightgowns for his lightskirts, just lacy ones with about a million tiny buttons. And robes with ostrich boas whose feathers got inhaled up your nose if you wore them. And the heaviest, most cloying perfumes she could find. She bought tooth powder that tasted like garlic, a hand mirror whose slight distortion just happened to add a few pounds to the reflection, a lovely bedside carafe that was sure to drip, and exquisite blown wineglasses that were so fragile, they were bound to break at the first use.

No, she wasn’t obvious, but the dastard wasn’t going to find Laurel Street any bed of roses, either.

There was no way on earth Annalise Avery was going to let another despicable man and his lascivious ways ruin her life.