Page 73 of Winterset
“Name your terms.”
“I would like to make recompense for my actions. I took a few pranks too far, and I feel bad about them. Allow me to clean your hats.”
A laugh burst from his mouth. “No. Absolutely not.”
I frowned. I thought he would be glad to have me clean them. It would be a tedious task and likely occupy much of his valet’s time. “I only want to fix what I have ruined.”
“And while I appreciate that, Miss Lockwood, I am not letting you within ten paces of even myleastfavorite hat.”
“And here I thought we were going to be friends.” I shook my head.
“We are. So long as you don’t lay one finger on my hats.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up his hand.
“Those are my terms, Miss Lockwood.”
“Very well,” I conceded.
“Good. Now then.” He stood, signaling the end of our discussion. “Won’t you please join me for breakfast? To be clear, I’m inviting you tojoinme for breakfast, notserveme breakfast.”
I gave him a rueful grin and stood. I was quite hungry after working all morning. But then I remembered the state of my dress: my messy apron and lack of gloves. “I’m not dressed for—”
“You look lovely, Miss Lockwood.” He gave me a sincere smile.
“That is kind of you to say, even if it is untrue.” I smoothed my stained apron, but it did not make it any more presentable.
“You don’t need to change your clothing on my account. But if you prefer to do so, I would happily wait.”
“I fear my meal might suffer for it if I do.”
He pointed at himself. “You aren’t suggestingIwould do something to your food, are you?”
“Considering all the overboiled beef and burned bread I made the servants feed you, I would not put it past you.”
“As enjoyable as that might be, we’ve declared peace, Miss Lockwood. What kind of person would I be if I pulled a prank right after promising not to?”
“Hmm,” I said, making a show of taking his measure. “I should not like to test our truce so soon.”
“Shall we?” He gestured for me to lead the way and followed me out of the drawing room.
As we passed through the entrance hall side by side, Mr. Jennings kept a respectful distance. He remarked on the stained-glass windows, noting how much brighter the entrance hall appeared with the curtains pulled back. And when we entered the dining hall, I noticed a place setting had been added to the table directly beside Mr. Jennings’s.
He followed my gaze. “I asked Mrs. Owensby to add another place setting. Is that all right?” he asked in a low voice.
Was it?
Despite everything, I didn’t feeluncomfortable. Or I did, but not because I was afraid of him. The opposite. Mr. Jennings had said he wanted to help me, and I believed him. Any discomfort I now felt was owed solely to anticipation, the unsteady footing of a new friendship, the wonder of what he would say next, and how I should respond.
“It is all right,” I said finally. “Thank you.”
With a nod, he assisted me with my chair. “Now, let’s discuss your sleeping in the attic.”
Oliver
The following morning, I waitedin the dining hall for Miss Lockwood, hoping she would join me for breakfast, but she didn’t. I checked the drawing room to ensure she was not waiting there for me, but she wasn’t. So I resumed my seat at the table.
Mrs. Owensby placed my breakfast before me: rolls with butter and preserves and tea.
