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Amy gasped beside her. “I didn’t know that, Miss Agnes! I thought he made the decision not to call. Isn’t that what you said?”
“I did,” Agnes said with a sigh. “But only because I didn’t want to shame him. It’s best we ended his calls. Oh, I enjoyed his company well enough and perhaps could have come to care for him after a fashion. But the truth is, I adore someone else.”
“Are you saying that you’ve already developed feelings for Mr. Rutley? You don’t love him already, do you?” The shock was clear in the maid’s tone.
“Feelings for him, yes. Love? Of course not. Not in such a short time. But I shall marry him one day.” Agnes cringed and turned to face Amy. “But you must keep that to yourself.”
The look of concern disappeared, replaced with a smile. “Don’t worry, miss. I won’t tell a soul. But I’m so very pleased for you, I am.”
“Thank you. Now, I’ve a letter to deliver.”
They began the short trek back to the front door, but a man’s cry from the side of the house made them stop and turn. A fellow in patched trousers held his hands out in front of him in an attempt to stop the powerful wave from crashing into him. And what a force she was.
A rotund woman, her honey-blonde hair tied up with a kerchief, held a pan above her head in a menacing fashion as she barreled after the man. “You didn’t mean to kiss her, did you? Well, I’ll just go and tell the magistrates I didn’t mean to wallop you! It’s just about as believable. Now, don’t you ever come back here, or I’ll have you fertilizin’ the potatoes in my garden!”
During her years growing up in London, Agnes had seen women such as this—tough, sharp-tongued, and fearing no one. And few chanced getting in her way.
The object of the woman’s rage turned and ran away so quickly, Agnes could not help but clutch at her sides in laughter. Interfering might not be appropriate, but she did not mind being a spectator.
“Oh, miss!” the woman said with a gasp as she dropped into a quick curtsy, the pan falling to the ground with a loudclang!“I’m ever so sorry you had to see that!”
Agnes wiped away a tear of laughter as she reached down to retrieve the pan. “No need to apologize,” she said. “May I ask what happened?”
“That cad thought he could steal a kiss from one of the housemaids,” the woman said. She glowered in the direction the man had run. “He won’t be comin’ back here again, not if I’ve got anything to say ‘bout it. And trust me, I get my way when my way needs to be got.” She said that with a firm nod. “Pardon my actions, miss. I know they can upset the sensibilities of delicate young ladies such as yourself.”
Delicate?Agnes mused. Oh, but she loved this mysterious woman already. “As I said, no need for apologies. What is your name?”
“I’m Mrs. Shepherd,” she said, drawing herself up to her full height, which was not all that tall. “The cook here at Courtly Manor.”
“But you’re so young!” Agnes said in surprise. “You can’t be any older than I.”
Mrs. Shepherd’s cheeks reddened as she laughed. “Unless you’re older than eight and twenty, which I’m doubtin’ you are, then we’re nowhere near the same age.”
“Well, I suppose you may have afewyears on me,” Agnes said. “I’m Miss Agnes Fitzimmons, and I think what you did is splendid.”
The cook smiled so widely the corners of her mouth nearly touched her ears.
“It’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance, but I must be on my way,” Agnes said with a glance down at the letter she carried. “But I do hope we’ll have the opportunity to speak again at another time.”
“I’d like that, miss,” the cook said. “I best be gettin’ back inside and check on Molly. She can make a mess out of frying an egg.” Bobbing another curtsy, she returned to the house.
“‘Speak again at another time’?” Amy said. “You truly believe you’ll be living here one day, don’t you?”
Agnes placed a foot on the portico and nodded. “I’ll marry him,” she said. “And Mrs. Shepherd will cook us wonderful meals. There is something special about that woman. I can see us having many chats in the kitchen.”
Amy smiled. “You think that about everyone, miss. That they’re all so wonderful. But why?”
As she reached up to knock on the door, Agnes paused. “It’s all about hope, Amy. Everyone needs hope in their lives. And it’s my hope that Mr. Rutley will be in mine.”
Just as the words left her mouth, the door opened, and Mr. Phillip Rutley stood in front of her. With dark hair, a chiseled jaw, and deep-blue eyes, he was as handsome as he had been the last time she had called. No, handsomer!
“Miss Fitzimmons,” he said as he smiled down at her. “What a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe this honor?”
With her heart racing and the pounding behind her ears, Agnes struggled to understand what he had said. Did she hear the word honor? Yes, that particular word had been a part of what he had said. But honor what? Did he honor her? Or did he make a request of her? Yes, that had to be it. He had made a request. What could he possibly request of her?
As he tilted his head, she feared she just might collapse. Therefore, she blurted the first words that came to mind.
“Yes, I would be honored to share in a cup of tea with you.”
