Page 47 of Return of the Viscount
“No, milord,” said Tom.
And Will added, “ ’Tis none of our business, milord.”
“You live in this household; it would seem all its residents are your business. But then again, I imagine it is Lady Blackthorne who is more the mistress of the house than her brother is the master.”
They said nothing, just exchanged uneasy glances.
“It must have been quite frightening for the staff when she was nearly injured by that falling bust.”
“Susan didn’t mean to—” Tom began.
Michael held up both hands. “I know she didn’t. And it was all my fault for distracting her; I told Lady Cecilia that.”
“And we’re grateful, milord,” Will said, giving his brother a warning look. “We’re her only family, our sister she is, and if she was to be dismissed ...”
He let his words die off, and Michael well understood the plight of servants. “Does Lady Blackthorne let servants go?”
“Oh, no, milord, never,” Tom said, ignoring his brother’s frown. “She’s fair to everyone, and has even added to the staff.”
“How long have you both been here?”
“Five years, since we were pages,” Will quickly said, perhaps attempting to control his brother’s side of the conversation. “We’ve lived in Enfield our whole lives.”
Then they knew Cecilia’s family well, perhaps even down through generations. Hopefully, that made them trustworthy. “So who are the new servants? I will make certain to appreciate their work.”
Will’s smile was faintly suspicious but grateful. “Our sister, Susan, o’ course, and the new page, Francis, and another watchman for the grounds.”
“Name’s Parsons,” Tom supplied.
“I hope the new servants enjoy working here.”
“Oh, they do, sir,” Tom gushed.
Will had begun to roll his eyes at his brother’s behavior. Was that because of Tom’s kowtowing to Michael, or because his assurances about the servants weren’t true?
“I’m glad to hear it,” Michael said, knowing he couldn’t push for any more answers without causing too much suspicion.
“Shall I come take your garments to the laundry, milord?” Tom asked, then ducked his head. “Since ye’ve not got a valet.”
“Thank you. I would appreciate it.”
They left him alone to his now-tepid bath, where he sank in and gave thought to how he could use Tom and Will. He couldn’t keep an eye on Cecilia every moment, but if he knew she had trustworthy servants about her, that would help.
After his bath, he deliberately lingered near Cecilia’s study as she worked, so she’d get used to seeing him now and again throughout the house. He wanted her to know she had someone to call upon for help should she need it.
Seeing her before dinner was more arousing than he’d imagined it could be after one virginal kiss. Her face reddened when she first saw him across the drawing room, and for once he was glad Appertan was more interested in the bottom of his brandy glass than anything else. That allowed Michael to stare at her as he wanted, to remember the kiss and let her realize what he was thinking, all without saying a word.
When she walked into the dining room without waiting for his escort, Michael watched the way her swaying hips made her skirt do a lively dance. She was all grace and elegance, her blond hair immaculate, not a lock cascading down her perfect neck. He assisted her into the chair.
Appertan gave a snort. “I’m sure Cecilia never seated herself before you arrived.”
Michael eyed his afternoon opponent, who sported a faint bluish purple bruise beneath one eye. “A lady always welcomes assistance.”
“Perhaps a lady doesn’t wish to feel like a fragile flower,” Cecilia said dryly.
“No?” Michael was still behind her, hands on her chair, trying not to openly enjoy the view down the front of her cleavage.
With an exaggerated sigh, Appertan looked away.
