fibs she made up for sympathy. The beastly Earl of Everscham was all bark. And far fonder of his sister than he liked anyone to know.
Later, while leaving the Rothespurs’ house, Molly heard Carver’s low voice in the drawing room to which the gentlemen had retreated and felt that same tempestuous beat overtaking her usually steady pulse. It was like the old days, she thought, when she worked in his house and heard him every day through walls and doors. She missed the sound of his voice, she realized with a sudden wrenching ache of nostalgia. She missed him.
No point dwelling upon that now. She had a new life and was no longer one of his minions. As he’d said, his life was his and hers was hers. Someone else would get his cordial water when he stumbled down to the kitchens in the small hours, forgetting to ring the bell.
But there was a delay in finding her coat. While the servants of the house were sent to find it and a footman was dispatched to ask the coachman for his patience, Molly waited for her coat with a growing sense of some mischief afoot. Sure enough, Carver soon appeared with her missing garment slung over his arm.
“Miss Robbins. Would this belong to you, by chance?”
She frowned, reaching for it.
He held the coat away from her fingers, swiftly moving it behind his back. She glanced up to the landing and was relieved to find they were not being observed. The butler was off searching for her coat, and Lady Anne’s brother was in the drawing room, out of sight. The footman holding the door had discreetly averted his gaze.
“I have a very busy day, your lordship,” she muttered.
“Then you’d better take your coat, Miss Robbins.” He finally held the coat out for her arms.
She didn’t want to feel his touch, for she knew already how it had the power to render her bones soft and her will compliant. She wanted to run as fast as her feet could carry her. Instead, she bravely turned, slipping her arms into the sleeves while he held the coat for her.
“You try to ensnare me,” he whispered in her ear, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders for the briefest of moments. “While your lips insult me, your eyes pull me closer. This is your design for my seduction, I think. You seek my attention, Mouse, by running under my feet at every opportunity.”
“I can assure you nothing is further from my intentions,” she replied hotly, tugging her collar out of his fingers and facing him again. Remembering the footman nearby, she lowered her voice. “Even if I should desire your attention, I couldn’t fathom how to begin.” Then she caught his smile and realized he merely teased her to get her temper up. “Have you no other woman to pester, sir?”
His eyes narrowed. “None like you.”
“Yes, I daresay hardworking women of ambition are in short supply in the places you frequent, your lordship.”
“As are virginal maids and determined spinsters.”
“You should widen your hunting grounds and find some nice girls for a change.”
“Good gracious, whatever would I want a nice girl for? I have a reputation to maintain.”
Molly studied his face for a moment, noting all the signs of his smothered amusement at her expense.
“How funny you look when you’re angry and trying to despise me,” he whispered. “But you know what they say…that there is only a slender leap between anger and desire.”
It was hopeless. If she stayed much longer in the presence of this wicked seducer, he would make her laugh, and that would never do.
Exasperated, she made for the door. He followed and walked with her to the fly waiting outside, as if it was an everyday occurrence for the Earl of Everscham to escort a dressmaker, or even know she existed. He offered his hand to help her up. To refuse would be pettish and another protest he would mock, so she laid her fingers lightly over his and stepped into the fly. He closed the door for her.
“Miss Robbins.”
“Your lordship.” She fixed her gaze
Later, while leaving the Rothespurs’ house, Molly heard Carver’s low voice in the drawing room to which the gentlemen had retreated and felt that same tempestuous beat overtaking her usually steady pulse. It was like the old days, she thought, when she worked in his house and heard him every day through walls and doors. She missed the sound of his voice, she realized with a sudden wrenching ache of nostalgia. She missed him.
No point dwelling upon that now. She had a new life and was no longer one of his minions. As he’d said, his life was his and hers was hers. Someone else would get his cordial water when he stumbled down to the kitchens in the small hours, forgetting to ring the bell.
But there was a delay in finding her coat. While the servants of the house were sent to find it and a footman was dispatched to ask the coachman for his patience, Molly waited for her coat with a growing sense of some mischief afoot. Sure enough, Carver soon appeared with her missing garment slung over his arm.
“Miss Robbins. Would this belong to you, by chance?”
She frowned, reaching for it.
He held the coat away from her fingers, swiftly moving it behind his back. She glanced up to the landing and was relieved to find they were not being observed. The butler was off searching for her coat, and Lady Anne’s brother was in the drawing room, out of sight. The footman holding the door had discreetly averted his gaze.
“I have a very busy day, your lordship,” she muttered.
“Then you’d better take your coat, Miss Robbins.” He finally held the coat out for her arms.
She didn’t want to feel his touch, for she knew already how it had the power to render her bones soft and her will compliant. She wanted to run as fast as her feet could carry her. Instead, she bravely turned, slipping her arms into the sleeves while he held the coat for her.
“You try to ensnare me,” he whispered in her ear, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders for the briefest of moments. “While your lips insult me, your eyes pull me closer. This is your design for my seduction, I think. You seek my attention, Mouse, by running under my feet at every opportunity.”
“I can assure you nothing is further from my intentions,” she replied hotly, tugging her collar out of his fingers and facing him again. Remembering the footman nearby, she lowered her voice. “Even if I should desire your attention, I couldn’t fathom how to begin.” Then she caught his smile and realized he merely teased her to get her temper up. “Have you no other woman to pester, sir?”
His eyes narrowed. “None like you.”
“Yes, I daresay hardworking women of ambition are in short supply in the places you frequent, your lordship.”
“As are virginal maids and determined spinsters.”
“You should widen your hunting grounds and find some nice girls for a change.”
“Good gracious, whatever would I want a nice girl for? I have a reputation to maintain.”
Molly studied his face for a moment, noting all the signs of his smothered amusement at her expense.
“How funny you look when you’re angry and trying to despise me,” he whispered. “But you know what they say…that there is only a slender leap between anger and desire.”
It was hopeless. If she stayed much longer in the presence of this wicked seducer, he would make her laugh, and that would never do.
Exasperated, she made for the door. He followed and walked with her to the fly waiting outside, as if it was an everyday occurrence for the Earl of Everscham to escort a dressmaker, or even know she existed. He offered his hand to help her up. To refuse would be pettish and another protest he would mock, so she laid her fingers lightly over his and stepped into the fly. He closed the door for her.
“Miss Robbins.”
“Your lordship.” She fixed her gaze
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