Page 2 of Pleasantly Pursued

“This isn’t the main entrance, sir,” she said, as though Benedict had come to call and mistaken our tiny door for the way into the house.

I dropped my gaze to the peas in my ever-moving hands, willing him to leave. He did not obey my internal pleading, of course. Not that I would expect him to do anything I asked of him.

“I am looking for Miss Northcott.” His deep, calm voice rumbled through the room, driving prickles over the back of my neck.

“Don’t have anyone here by that name.”

Dear heavens, I was glad I’d thought to give my employers a false name.

“Is that not her, right there?” Benedict must have gestured toward me, for I was the only other person present. “Miss Dorothea Northcott.”

“No, sir. That’s our Mary.”

Bless Cook and her sudden confusion. It sounded like she spoke with affection, and Benedict would not believe anyone capable of having that emotion in regard to me.

I hazarded a look up and found Benedict analyzing me, his eyes widening when they reached my flour-covered face. A questioning look passed over his gaze, and I hoped it meant he was second-guessing himself and not the oddity of finding me covered in white powder.

“Thea,” he said, calling to me. I fought the impulse to react to the shortened form of my given name. It had been so long since I’d heard it. Years, in fact. It was a connection to my lost parents and to Benedict’s mother—Lady Edith, my godmother—who had taken me under her wing and given me a home shortly after my mother died.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked.

Cook glanced at me and a startled expression flashed over her face.Pleasedo not comment on my floury cheeks. She seemed to shake herself. “Can I help you with anything else, sir?” she asked him, apparently finished with having this nonsense in her kitchen. “This is not the woman you seek.”

Benedict’s jaw flexed. He looked from me to Cook. “No, I thank you. It would appear I have been mistaken.” He lifted his gaze to me. “I shall leave you in peace.”

The expression on his face spoke the opposite of his words, and I was suddenly very certain he had no such intentions.

The door closed behind him as Cook let out a strange scoff. “Some men think all women look the same. Sure as anything, you have the same color hair as this Dorothea Northcott and nothing else in common.”

“More than likely,” I agreed.

She returned to the loaves, looking from my bucket of peas to the work counter between us. “Where are my beets?”

I fought a smile. It was a relief that Cook was able to move on so swiftly, for it meant she did not hold any suspicions that Benedict knew whom he was looking at.

“I forgot them.”

“Well, fetch them, child.”

Not until Benedict had ridden far, far away. “Of course. I’m nearly finished with these peas.”

She harrumphed.

I commanded my fingers to slow. I took the pods one at a time and peeled them open, removing the peas in an exaggeratedly sluggish manor. The windows set high on the walls were not facing the proper direction for me to watch Benedict ride away, so I would have to content myself with supplying him ample time to leave.

Nearly a half-hour later, Cook slammed her hand on the wooden table top, jolting me. “Hurry it up, girl.”

“I’m nearly there. I only have two left.” I shelled them both quickly and shoved the bowl of peas toward Cook, then gathered the casings in my apron to deposit in the compost outside. The sun shone in my eyes, and I lifted my hand to shield them while I dumped the pea pods, then made my way through the kitchen garden toward the beets.

“I was beginning to wonder if I would be forced to wait out here for hours.”

The deep voice came from behind me, and though I knew at once that it belonged to Benedict, the sudden nearness startled me and I jumped.

Forced to wait out here forhours? He could not truly believe I came out with the express purpose of speaking to him. I shot him a glance over my shoulder, glad I’d not yet fully wiped the flour from my face. “I’m Mary,” I said, affecting the lowest-born accent I could muster. “I don’t know the woman you’re looking for. It isn’t me.”

His flat lips proved how little he believed me.

“What is the matter with you, Thea? You’ve worried my mother half to death, and if you aren’t careful, you’ll incite all manner of rumors, too.”

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