She nodded, playing with her own glass of sherry. “It is. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought I might ask you about––”
It’ll be Oliver. Of course it’s Oliver. Blast it all, I’m not ready.
“Not now.” He forced himself to drink the sugary sherry before handing her the glass. “Another day, Isla, but the hour is growing late and I should be on my way.”
“What? Already?” The way she furrowed her brow was altogether too distracting. He forced himself to take a step back, wondering what was wrong with him. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Ronan.”
Inhaling deeply, he shook his head. He was ruining what had been a perfectly fine evening and he realized that; and he couldn’t take it back. “I’m not uncomfortable. I’m perfectly fine. I’m only aware of the hour and I have an early day ahead of me. Do tell your mother I enjoyed the meal.” Ronan started toward the door and paused with his hand on it, “And tell Lacey she is a perfectly decent child. Good night, Isla.”
Although he couldn’t get home fast enough to the townhouse, Ronan didn’t know what to do once there. He paced through most of the night as ideas and thoughts and doubts filled his mind.
The next morning, he rode fast to the estate where Hobbes welcomed him. “How was the supper, Your Grace?” The older man asked him. “Still betrothed, I trust?”
“Of course I am.” Ronan’s eye caught on a maid passing down the hall with freshly folded linens. An idea sprouted. “It’s normal to send engagement gifts, is it not?”
Hobbes raised an eyebrow. “What sort of gifts?”
“Any gifts.”
They stared at one another for a moment until the butler began to give way to impulse, a sly smile creeping up to widen those wrinkles he had been wearing for years. “Gifts for the lady? What inspired you, I wonder?”
“Shove off, Hobbes. No, wait, follow me.”
It only took him a heartbeat to start the plan. He liked plans, for they were secure and allowed for structure.
“Your Grace?”
“Start a list. You have some hiring to do. I want servants hired. Two. No, three. Chambermaids and scullery maids, that sort of thing. Might as well do two of each. Another cook and a footman. Oh, and a lady’s maid.”
Hobbes stumbled after him in haste to keep up walking and writing. “More servants for this estate, Your Grace? Or London?”
“Neither. For the MacLaren house. We’ll have the address somewhere. Let’s have them hired by the end if the week, yes?”
The butler gawked in the doorway as Ronan went to set up a place to shave. His valet in London was still learning and had missed a spot. It had been bugging him for an hour now. He paused, glancing at Hobbes. “What?”
“I… it’s unusual, I suppose,” the butler managed at last. “A strange sort of gift. That’s all.”
Ronan thought about it only a second. “You’re right. Let’s order some ladies’ gloves. A pair for all the women in the family. No, three pairs. Thick, warm ones, and then two for society. Oh, and start an ongoing order for firewood and coal to be delivered there however often we receive it here.”
This is actually rather enjoyable. I forgot how nice it could be putting things to rights. And that house warrants the extra attention.
Hunched over his paper, the butler scrawled on two pages to gather all the details. Hobbes was wide-eyed when he was done. “Anything else?”
“It’ll do for a start. Report when it’s done, but that’s all for now,” Ronan announced as he picked up the shaving cream.
Off the butler went while, alone again, Ronan tended to himself. He looked in the mirror and paused in surprise to see a fellow smiling back at him. It took a minute to realize it was him all along.
Harrumphing, he gave his head a shake and so it went away.
CHAPTER 14
Three days later, Isla was a blustery mess as she went to open the door. She knew it and so did her family.
As did the parade of new servants that had come to tend the home at the behest of her betrothed. It had been unsettling to have strangers appearing on her doorstep, saying they were already being paid to provide their services. She didn’t have to worry about accounting, just ensuring they knew where to begin and how she liked her morning tea.
I don’t like my morning tea and I don’t like not understanding what is going on. If that is another servant, I very well might scream.
“Thank the lord,” she groaned after throwing the door open.
