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"You know it is," she says with a sigh, glancing at me for a moment. "Can I help you, my lord?"
"No, just wanted to make sure you hadn't done a bait-and-switch on us," he says as he catches up to us, grinning wide. He's more tanned than when I saw him last, and there's a spatter of mudon his arms and shirt, I realize, and the hems of his jeans. Maybe he's into horticulture after all?
He looks me up and down.
"No uniform yet, make sure you get her into something nice, not what you put the maids in." He makes a face. Mrs. Harris looks like she's eaten a lemon, rind and all.
"She's just arrived," Mrs. Harris says sternly. "And I don't have time for your games today, my lord."
He smiles at her.
"Of course, you're so busy, keeping us all in line." He turns to me. "Make sure she shows you where my rooms are."
"My lord!" Mrs. Harris's voice nearly cracks and I take a step back.
"Don't tell my brother I said that," he replies smoothly, fishing a hundred dollar bill out of his pocket and patting it into her hand. He closes her fingers around it before she can argue. Then he winks at me.
"See you later," he promises me, and I silently promise that no, he won't. He's exactly the kind of problem I need to avoid, under the pain of death. He disappears into the ballroom, feet slapping the ground, and I realize that he's in flip-flops. My eyes nearly pop out of my face, they're so wide.
"Ignore him," Mrs. Harris says as he disappears from view. "And—"
"You don't need to say it, I'll avoid him," I murmur and step closer to her. "The rest of the house?" She gives a long, suffering sigh.
"Yes. Right this way, I'll show you Lady Madeline's rooms, and your own."
7
Eva
"Now, don't expect to take commands for duties from anyone but myself, or Avery, the head Butler. On occasion, you might see the household manager, Mrs. Wright, or even the estate manager Mr. Barnsworth, but he is quite busy and does not trouble himself with directly contacting the staff," Mrs. Harris says as I tag along behind her like a bedraggled kitten.
The house is enormous. I knew that from looking at it from the outside but in another way, I feel like I should have gotten a clue that it was even bigger than I could imagine. It was just me, not paying enough attention. The whole estate feels like it's going to swallow me whole.
Already I'm lost, I think.
"There's the duke's office," Mrs. Harris says, pointing out a pair of double doors that stretch the full height of the first floor which seems to go two flights tall, at least in these large rooms. The ballroom was even bigger than this, with the ceiling going four floors into the air. It makes me ill to think about who has to clean up that high. Do they bring in a crane for the work? Those windows must need cleaning at least twice a year.
Mrs. Harris stops and turns to me. I nearly run into her, but manage to save face by not looking like I've almost tripped at her feet. Casual, casual. Keep it casual.
"And one thing, even though it was in your contract, and I don't want to do you the disrespect of assuming anything, I must say as the duke made clear to me this morning to be communicated to you—" She hesitates, glances around, and lowers her voice. "You are not to, under any circumstance, fraternize with any of the men on staff. Especially the footmen. They like to get into trouble, and you'll have no part of it."
Oh. Of course. My eyes widen.
"I wouldn't think of it," I say quickly, because I'm not stupid. I know why I'm here and why they've brought me on. Nobody wants to hire a nanny that falls into bed with the first person who's nice to her.
That would be all too easy here as well, where I feel so lost and alone already.
"You're pretty enough," she says looking at me, and the compliment takes me by surprise. Nobody's ever said that about me. Not even hi— "But we've lost more than one girl from here who thought she could play in the sheets and not suffer the consequences. You were selected out of hundreds, Evangeline, and please do not make me regret it."
I almost startle at how she uses my first name, so casually, but it must be the intensity of the topic that makes her break protocol.
"I promise," I say to her with every inch of sincerity I can muster. "I'm only here to be a good nanny, and represent the household well."
She regards me for a long moment and then gives me a brief smile and nod. I've passed the test. I let go of a breath I'd been holding, as she turns away and keeps walking, toward one of the big staircases that curves to the second floor.
"We won't speak of it again then," she says, and that's a relief. There's no way I could handle her scrutiny like that time after time.
Mrs. Harris has a way of walking up the stairs that makes it look like she's floating, and I try to emulate her delicate steps that are quiet and non-intrusive. It's probably in a manual somewhere for housekeepers, on how to move around and not disturb the families they work for.
