Chapter 1

Chapter One

Ann

T he front parlor of Everton House is quiet as I pull my embroidery needle through the cloth held in a wooden frame. The bluebirds will look lovely on a pillow and will make a nice gift for Lady Chervil. Admitting to boredom is not in my nature, so I stifle a sigh.

The parlor door opens and Lady Jane stands in the threshold. She is tall and her brown hair has begun to show a few strands of gray on the sides. "Miss Wittman, do you have a moment? There's a client in my office, whom I'd like for you to meet."

A short silent word of prayer for being saved from the doldrums, and I stand, leaving my needlework on the settee. "Of course, my lady. Do I need to change?" I look down at my dull blue day dress and brush out the skirt.

Jane smiles warmly. "You look very nice. No need to change."

Joining her in the doorway, I ask, "Who is the client? "

"The Earl of Kendall. He requires someone to replace his steward temporarily."

It's a short walk across the foyer to the office, so there's no time for more questions.

When the footman opens the office door, the man sitting on the sofa stands. He's very tall and broad. If not for the expensive clothes, he looks more like a blacksmith than an earl. His expression is sour, but his eyes are kind.

Jane says, "This is Miss Ann Wittman. Ann, may I introduce Oscar Stafford, the Earl of Kendall?"

He bows and I make a deep curtsy. "My lord, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Miss Wittman." He clears his throat and stares over my shoulder. "Perhaps this was a bad idea. I can't see how a woman will be able to accomplish what I require."

Tempted to check and see if someone is standing behind me, I chalk his lack of direct gaze up to arrogance, something I've dealt with all my life. The earl is no exception. "I'm certain that whatever you need will not exceed my abilities. Lady Everton briefly told me that you require a steward. May I ask what happened to the last person who held the position?" Sitting across from him on an overstuffed chair, I feel uncertain and keep myself at the edge of the seat, should escape be necessary. It's silly really. Lady Jane is here and the footman is right outside the door. Yet, old habits are difficult to change.

Oscar sits with an audible sigh. "I didn't mean to offend you, Miss Wittman. I'm sure you are quite capable. The issue is that the position of the steward is a traditionally male role and I find myself at the Everton Domestic Society because all other options are not…" he pauses, his lips pulled in a straight line, "desirous at this time. My steward, who I hired a year ago after the previous one retired, left suddenly to marry one of the maids. I'm told they have taken up residence with her family in Su rrey. I have a house in London, a hunting lodge in Scotland, and a large estate in Devonshire. It is a big job to keep the accounts of all three properties." His gaze shifts uncomfortably.

It's strange for an employee to run off on short notice and the earl's demeanor is awkward, as if he might be lying. My suspicious nature awakens, but I keep my thoughts to myself. "What is the state of the bookkeeping, if I may ask, my lord?"

"I'm afraid, I was negligent in keeping tabs on things for some time. Mr. Bellston, the former steward, has left things untidy. I tried to sort it out, but find I need help." He meets my gaze for the first time since I entered the room.

Jane's expression remains calm and positive, as it always does. She smooths her perfectly ordered hair. "Miss Wittman has the required skills to help you. She has long been the society's lady in waiting, as she excels at helping young women move on to the next stage of their lives. However, this is not out of her comfort level and she has assisted me with Lord Everton's and my estates for many years."

"You are a nanny?" Oscar has no issue making eye contact now.

Never one to show temper, I stuff the roiling in my gut down. "I am an Everton Lady. I have held many positions over the last seven years."

He stands. "This will not work. I apologize for taking up your time, ladies."

Jane gets up, so I follow. Why would an earl come to the society for this post when there are more traditional ways of finding a new steward? "Lord Kendall, if it is discretion you're after, I am your best option."

His jaw ticks and he narrows his green eyes. "Even if that were true, how would I explain you to the ton? A woman of your age in my home, traveling with me to my country estates, it would be scandalous. "

"I see your point, my lord," Jane says. "While I could send Miss Wittman with a chaperon, I doubt that would help. The gossip would be that you somehow lost your steward and hired a woman. People would meddle into what happened with Mr. Bellston, and I'm guessing you wouldn't want that." Without noticing Oscar's cringe, she continues, "I beg your pardon, Miss Wittman, but you're too old to be placed as the earl's ward. Besides, some people will remember your time out in society."

Wishing I could keep my cheeks from showing my embarrassment, I hold myself expressionless and nod.

"Do you have a niece or younger sister, my lord?" Jane taps her chin with her index finger.

"I don't know where you're going with this line of questioning, Lady Everton." His hands go to his hips and he strikes an imposing figure.

A soft smile pulls at Jane's lips. "Forgive me, I have an idea that would work if you have a young lady in your family whom you might take on as a ward. Then the world might be told that Miss Wittman is a governess and she could be in your homes without anyone questioning her presence."

My pulse races, and I can't decide if it's because of the notion of running such a large estate, the lies that will have to be told, or if there's a thrill at working with the man hovering over them. "I'm not an adept liar, Lady Jane."

Jane frowns.

Oscar grins. It's the first sign that he's more than a grumpy earl who lost control of his birthright. "I have a niece, Louisa, who is reluctant to make her appearance in society. My sister recently wrote me detailing her woes. Perhaps you wouldn't have to lie, Miss Wittman. If I sponsor Louisa, you could be her governess and also help me with my books." He pauses and frowns, then looks me in the eyes again. "But perhaps I ask too much. "

"That would be acceptable, my lord." The flutter in my stomach returns when he stares at me, but I foist away any ridiculous emotions.

A week later, the carriage takes me across Mayfair for my new assignment with the Earl of Kendall and his niece Louisa.

The house fills one side of the square and has flowers growing in perfect rows out front. From the outside, everything looks perfect. I imagine that's the way Oscar Stafford likes everything.

My carriage stops in front of the gate and the Everton footman who accompanied me hands me down. "Thank you, Will."

Once across the courtyard, I bang the knocker.

A young maid of perhaps seventeen pulls the door open. "Are you Miss Wittman?"

"I am."

"You better come in." She leaves the door open and runs down a hall to the left of the foyer.

Blinking, I stare after her.

Will chuckles. "Seems you've got your work cut out for you, Miss Ann."

"It would seem so. Would you mind bringing my trunk around and make sure it gets in the house, Will?"

Giving me a serious look, he nods. "Of course. I'll see to it."

At least the foyer looks well-appointed. I step inside and close the door. Removing my bonnet and gloves, I place them on the half table to the left. A large chandelier, covered in cobwebs, hangs above two swooping staircases that rise to an elaborate landing. Aside from the dust, it looks in good condition.

Following the path of the maid who opened the door, I watch from the threshold of a front parlor where the earl is deep in an argument with a woman who shares many of his features. She is perhaps a few years younger than him and of strong voice.

"Mae, I only want to give Louisa a season where she might find a suitable husband. Is that so terrible? You wrote to me in despair that she would end a spinster." Oscar's voice is even, but there's frustration in the tight line of his lips.

It takes all of my training not to gasp at how the word spinster is said as if it were a terrible disease.

"You'll try to turn her into a hermit, and I won't have it, Oscar. I love you, but you are not a good role model for a young, impressionable girl. All you have ever done is lock yourself away in that old hunting lodge of Papa's and work on projects only you understand." Mae wraps her arms around herself. She's wearing a light coat despite the fine weather and hasn't removed her hat or gloves, clearly not intending to stay long.

In the corner, a young woman of perhaps sixteen sits on the bench by the pianoforte and strokes the keys without producing any notes. It seems as if there's a tune there, but she knows better than to play while her elders are arguing.

"I'm not going to go to Scotland during the season, Mae. I'm going to stay here and clean up the mess. I have an Everton Lady coming for Louisa." He touches the mantle, then rubs his fingers together with a frown.

No doubt the parlor is as dusty as the foyer.

Clearing my throat, I cross the threshold. "Perhaps I may be of assistance."

"Ah. Excellent timing." Oscar rushes over and bows. "Miss Wittman, will you tell my sister that you shall not allow her daughter to become a hermit or pick up any of my other abhorrent habits?"

It's difficult not to laugh. "I shall do my best, but having no knowledge of your behavior, I'll reserve my promises." I cross to Mae and make a curtsy. "How do you do? I'm Ann Wittman from the Everton Domestic Society."

"Lady Mae Bartholomew, Countess of Creeves. I have always heard fine things about your society. My brother thinks you will help him hide his misfortunes from the ton while also helping my daughter find a husband of worth."

Louisa has dark hair, keeps her head down, and her attention on whatever music is in her head. She's lovely.

"I will help him sort out his accounts. Your daughter is a beautiful young lady. It shouldn't be difficult to find a fine gentleman to offer for her if that's what she wishes."

Mae snorts and it's extremely unladylike. "My daughter would be happy to sit in a music room and never come out. Can you cure that, Miss Wittman?"

Looking up, Louisa's eyes widen, and her hand stills.

It can't have been easy growing up, expected to stay in the open when you want to be in hiding. I smile in hopes of reassuring Louisa. "Perhaps there's no need for a cure, just a gentleman willing to sit and listen or even sing along."

The sun catches a glisten of emotion in Louisa's eyes. Her expression eases, but she keeps her attention on me.

A long moment passes when Mae studies me. It's a bit like being the fish in the bowl. She stares until most people would be uncomfortable, but I smile and wait.

With a nod, Mae says, "Fine. You may have your niece for the one season, Oscar, but only because I think Miss Wittman will be good for her. Perhaps she'll be good for you as well. This entire mess may be just the thing to force you out of your studies and into life. You have responsibilities to your title. "

"I'm aware." He looks like a man who wants to leave the room, but knows how rude that would be, and that he'd lose the battle he's nearly won.

"Louisa, come and hug me so I can get out of this dusty attic of a house."

Mother and daughter hug, and Mae says a curt goodbye before striding out. The last thing we hear is an exasperated, "No butler," before the front door opens and closes.

Oscar laughs and the sound is magical, as if the world has been waiting years for it. "One thing is certain, Miss Wittman, you are not easily intimidated. My sister is a champion at making people feel uncomfortable, but you faced her like a Valkyrie."

Hard as it is to keep from smiling, I bite my lip and stare at him. Why must he be so attractive and large? "Lady Creeves is protecting her child from you, my lord."

Louisa giggles.

"I don't know why. It seems to me everyone wins in our plan." He returns to his frown, which seems to be his resting state. A shame, as his smile is most appealing.

Running my fingers along the back of the settee, I clear a line in the dust. "Why is the house so dusty, where are your butler and housekeeper? I assume the maid who answered the door when I knocked holds neither of those roles."

"I think that was the scullery maid, Susie." He rubs the back of his neck and flops into a chair near the fireplace. Dust swirls around him and he sneezes.

I retreat to the piano bench and sit with Louisa, who has returned to that corner. Perhaps because it's not quite as filthy. "Will you answer my questions, my lord?"

He seems to find a spot on the rug more interesting than the people in the room with him, but he finally lifts his head and meets my gaze. "I think they may have left with Mr. Bellston. Neither had been in my employ for very long. I pensioned the old butler and maid less than a year ago."

Things are coming into focus. "And Mr. Bellston hired their replacements?"

"He did." He returns his gaze to the floor.

"Very well." With a sigh that I fail to stifle, I rise and pull the cord for service.