Page 15 of His Perfect Bride
Whatever the case, Sage had continued to do the daily work of cleaning and tidying the home as well as laundering, ironing, lighting the fires, emptying the ashes, bringing in more fuel, and any other task that needed doing…like cleaning Jackson’s study.
Sage had been reluctant to even enter the room. But Augusta had insisted it needed to be scoured before the dinner party and had pleaded with Sage to make sure the job was completed.
Even though Sage had suggested closing the study door so none of the guests would witness the mess, Augusta claimed that doing so would only cause everyone to be curious and speculate about what they were hiding behind the closed door.
So this afternoon, with Augusta having gone on another errand, Sage had forced herself into the study. At first, she’d intended to just collect the discarded clothing as well as the unwashed plates and cups. But once she’d started gathering the items, she’d been unable to stop tidying everything else.
She’d put books back on the shelves and alphabetized them. She’d placed all Jackson’s correspondences in the mail slots of his desk by the order in which he’d received them. She’d returned his pens and other utensils in the holders next to the mail slots.
The sheets of papers containing all his work had still been scattered over his desk, on chairs, and even in heaps on the floor. While she’d initially hesitated in touching them, she’d finally begun the laborious process of organizing those too.
If there was one thing she excelled at, it was in organizing. She soon had every single paper in the room sorted into three piles on top of his desk—close-up diagrams, sketches of bridges, and the mathematical equations. Then she cataloged each pile, putting papers into chronological order. Although some of the diagrams and equations didn’t have dates, thankfully most did.
Finally, she’d polished every piece of wood, beat the dust from the rugs, and washed the floor. Now with the window freshly washed and the draperies drawn to let in the sunshine, she finished examining the diagram she’d just discovered behind the bookshelf—one that showed a cross section of an interior part of the bridge.
She didn’t understand what it represented, but the lines and measurements and equations around it fascinated her, nonetheless. Not because she was interested in engineering but because it gave her more insight into Jackson.
They still only saw each other in passing, and they only spoke to each other to relay Augusta’s requests. Even so, Sage had learned that not only did he excel at his work, but he was a devoted and kind brother, sitting with Augusta for meals, conversing politely, and inquiring into her life. He hadn’t seemed happy about the dinner party request, but he’d allowed Augusta to proceed with her plans anyway. He spoke fondly of his mother, and he seemed to genuinely care about his family, although Sage sensed that he wasn’t as close to his father.
Sage had also learned he wasn’t concerned about material possessions. He didn’t care what his sister purchased or how she decorated the house. He probably didn’t notice the changes unless Augusta specifically pointed them out to him. Even then, he complimented her efforts rather than being offended that she’d taken charge of his home.
Yes, Jackson Lennox was a complicated man, but underneath the beast, Sage had witnessed a softer side that she liked. Once in a while, when she looked past his overgrown hair, she even glimpsed a handsome man.
Augusta seemed to think that Jackson had taken the bridge accident personally and had cancelled his wedding because of his guilt over the tragedy. She also believed that God had brought them to Jackson to be part of his healing journey.
Maybe that was true for Augusta. But Sage wasn’t here for Jackson. Her first priority was to Augusta as a lady’s maid and saving her earnings for her family’s passage to the colony.
Sage placed the last, lone diagram in the right place within the stack, then picked up her duster.
“What do you think you’re doing?” The sharp question came from the doorway.
She spun to find Jackson stepping into the room. His appearance was as rumpled as always—his shirt untucked, his sleeves rolled up, his vest hanging open, and his cravat undone. His dark hair was sticking on end, and his mouth was set into a grim line amidst the scruffy facial hair.
He was glancing around the room, his forehead furrowing. “What have you done?”
“Augusta asked me to clean the study?—”
“This is my private workplace!” With each word, his voice rose a decibel. “I don’t need it to be cleaned!”
“I was following Augusta’s orders. She wanted it cleaned by the dinner party.”
“I didn’t approve of anyone touching anything.” His agitation was growing more tangible with each passing moment, and he began stalking to first one bookshelf then the next.
“Believe me,” she said more forcefully, “I didn’t do this for your sake. I did it for Augusta’s.”
“You’ve been meddling since the moment you got here.”
“Meddling? Is that what you call cleaning?” She knew she needed to bite her tongue and stay quiet. But there was something about his ranting that irked her, especially because she’d tried to be polite thus far, had exceeded her duties to help him, and had kept a cheerful and uncomplaining attitude like Augusta’s.
“I put up with your meddling elsewhere, but you shouldn’t have come in here!” This time he roared the words, his face turning a ruddy shade and his gaze bouncing from one piece of furniture to the next. “Now you’ve destroyed everything.”
“I’ve picked things up.” That was simplifying the situation. And his accusation that she’ddestroyed everythingwas ludicrous since it was obvious she’d worked a miracle in his study and cleaned it beyond anything he could dream of.
“I didn’t want it picked up!” His breathing was rapid and his expression almost panicked. “I wanted it left alone.”
While she didn’t think he’d lash out at her physically, she was glad to have the large desk standing between them. She’d never been afraid to speak the truth to her sisters and tell them what they needed to hear in difficult situations. She’d always done so calmly, priding herself for her ability to keep her emotions and temper under tight control.
But at the moment, a strange pressure was building inside her—frustration at this man’s rudeness and ingratitude.
