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She actually had the temerity to interrupt him. “No, you misunderstand. I’m your new housekeeper.”
“I repeat. I. Don’t. Have. A. Housekeeper.” He spoke slowly so perhaps her confused brain could understand the words. “Nor do I wish for a housekeeper. I—”
“This is Castle Greaves?”
“Aye.”
“And you are Sir Alistair Munroe?”
He scowled. “Aye, but—”
She wasn’t even looking at him. Instead, she had stooped to rummage in one of the bags at her feet. He stared at her, irritated and perplexed and vaguely aroused, because her position gave him a spectacular view down the bodice of her gown. If he was a religious man, he might think this a vision.
She made a satisfied sound and straightened again, smiling quite gloriously. “Here. It’s a letter from the Viscountess Vale. She’s sent me here to be your housekeeper.”
She was proffering a rather crumpled piece of paper.
He stared at the paper a moment before snatching it from her hand. He raised the candle to provide some light to read the scrawling missive. Beside him, Lady Grey, his deerhound, evidently decided that she wasn’t getting sausages for dinner any time soon. She sighed gustily and lay down on the hall flagstones.
Alistair finished reading the missive to the sound of the rain pounding steadily on his drive. Then he looked up. He’d met Lady Vale only once. She and her husband, Jasper Renshaw, Viscount Vale, had visited his home uninvited a little over a month ago. She hadn’t struck him at the time as an interfering female, but the letter did indeed inform him that he had a new housekeeper. Madness. What had Vale’s wife been thinking? But then it was near impossible to fathom the workings of the female mind. He’d have to send the too-beautiful, too-richly-dressed housekeeper and her offspring away in the morning. Unfortunately, if nothing else, they were protégés of Lady Vale, and he couldn’t very well send them off into the dark of night.
Alistair met the woman’s blue eyes. “What did you say your name was?”
She blushed as prettily as the sun rising in spring on the heath. “I didn’t. My name is Helen Halifax. Mrs. Halifax. We are becoming quite wet out here, you realize.”
A corner of his mouth kicked up at the starch in her tone. Not a mental deficient after all. “Well, then, you and your children had better come in, Mrs. Halifax.”
THE TINY SMILE curving one side of Sir Alistair’s lips startled Helen. It drew attention to a mouth both wide and firm, supple and masculine. The smile revealed him as not the gargoyle she’d been thinking him, but a man.
It was gone at once, of course, as soon as he caught her looking at him. In an instant, his expression turned stony and faintly cynical. “You’ll continue to get wet until you come in, madam.”
“Thank you.” She swallowed and stepped into the dim hall. “You’re most kind, I’m sure, Sir Alistair.”
He shrugged and turned away. “If you say so.”
Beastly man! He hadn’t even offered to carry their bags. Of course, most gentlemen didn’t carry the belongings of their housekeepers. Even so, it would’ve been nice to at least offer.
Helen grasped a bag in each hand. “Come, children.”
They had to walk quickly, almost jogging, to keep up with Sir Alistair and what appeared to be the only light in the castle—his candle. The gigantic dog padded along at his side, lean, dark, and tall. In fact, she was very like her master. They passed out of a great hall and into a dim passage. The candlelight bobbed ahead, casting eerie shadows on grimy walls and high, cobwebbed ceilings. Jamie and Abigail trailed on either side of her. Jamie was so tired that he merely trudged along, but Abigail was looking curiously from side to side as she hurried.
“It’s terribly dirty, isn’t it?” Abigail whispered.
Sir Alistair turned as she spoke, and at first Helen thought he’d heard. “Have you eaten?”
He’d halted so suddenly, Helen nearly trod on his toes. As it was, she ended up standing much too close to him. She had to crane her neck to look him in the eye, and he held the candle near his chest, casting the light diabolically over his face.
“We had tea at the inn, but—” she began breathlessly.
“Good,” he said, and turned away. He called back over his shoulder as he disappeared around a corner, “You can stay the night in one of the guest rooms. I’ll hire a carriage to send you back to London in the morning.”
Helen gripped the bags higher and hurried to catch up. “But I really don’t—”
He’d already started up a narrow stone stair. “You needn’t worry about the expense.”
For a second, Helen paused at the bottom of the stair, glaring at the firm backside steadily receding above them. Unfortunately, the light was receding as well.
“Hurry, Mama,” Abigail urged her. She’d taken her brother’s hand like a good older sister and had already mounted the steps with Jamie.
