His Housekeeper's Christmas Wish Read online

  With a poker at the ready for randy males was the unspoken part of that declaration. Alex managed a smile for her and took himself off. He needed brandy. No, he needed to strip off and stand under the stable yard pump, but he was going to have to settle for brandy.

  Back in the study he flung himself into his chair and reached for his glass, raised it to his lips as an indignant voice began to yowl from inside the wicker basket by the fireside.

  ‘You took the words right out of my mouth, Noel,’ Alex said as he set down his glass untouched and went to open the basket. Somehow, in a matter of moments, he had acquired a cat, a nun, and his well-ordered, pleasantly selfish life was upside down.

  *

  Had the housekeeper seen them? Tess fought against the instinct to simply close her eyes and pretend that kiss had never happened. But that would be rude. She met the other woman’s gaze and read nothing but concern there.

  ‘I’ve got a nightgown for you,’ Mrs Semple said. ‘MacDonald had the sense to tell me why I was being called for, so I thought I had best bring some things, just in case. Let’s get you undressed and into bed, shall we, Miss Ellery?’

  The other woman was not much older than she was, Tess thought as she did her best to help with the undressing. It seemed young to be a housekeeper. ‘Is Mr Semple the butler here?’ she asked with a vague notion of making polite conversation under extraordinary circumstances.

  ‘I’m a widow, Miss Ellery. I don’t live in as a rule, not with an all-male household, you understand.’

  ‘But you’re so young. Oh, I’m sorry, that was tactless, I’m not thinking very straight.’

  ‘And no wonder. My husband was killed at Waterloo. He was one of his old lordship’s grooms, but he was set on the army.’ She tucked Tess in with a brisk pat at the sheets, then stepped back to survey the room. From her nod she was satisfied with what she saw. ‘Now, what can I fetch you to eat, Miss Ellery? A nice little omelette with some bread and butter and a cup of tea?’

  ‘That sounds perfect, thank you.’ Tess closed her eyes and leaned back into the comfort of piled pillows. She wondered vaguely if she would be able to stay awake to eat it and drifted off to sleep.

  *

  ‘She’s asleep.’ Hannah Semple closed the study door behind her and came to take the chair opposite Alex. ‘And what have you got there?’

  Alex stroked his palm over the kitten’s body and smiled as the rumbling purr vibrated through his hand. ‘This is Noel. I set out to cross the Channel and come home alone with a pile of artworks, yet ended up with one kitten and a nun who isn’t.’

  Hannah kicked off her shoes and curled up in the armchair. ‘And what, Alex my lad, are you going to do with them?’

  ‘I was hoping you’d be some help with that, Hannah.’ He looked at her with affection, his childhood playmate, the daughter of their estate manager at Tempeston. He’d watched her march off to follow Willie Semple to war when both he and Hannah were just seventeen, and she’d written to him five years later when she returned to England, a widow in search of a place. In front of the other staff she was meticulously formal; alone with him they were simply old friends.

  ‘The kitten goes with Tess—but what the blazes am I to do with her?’

  ‘Take her to bed by the looks of things,’ Hannah observed.

  Alex winced. ‘You saw that? She meant to kiss me goodnight on the cheek. Things slipped. She’s an innocent, Hannah, not the kind of girl to take to bed.’

  ‘And you’d know. But I’d agree with that. She’s as green as spring grass, you’ve only to look at her.’ That was definitely a verbal cuff round the ear, he thought. ‘What’s she doing in London?’

  Alex recounted the tale. ‘I need to find her decent employment,’ he concluded. There was no way he could wash his hands of her now.

  ‘You need to get her out of this house,’ Hannah countered. ‘She can come back with me tomorrow, if she’s up to it. I’ve a spare room in my apartment, nothing fancy, but she’ll be safe, comfortable and respectable. Then we can find her employment.’

  The relief of it caught him by surprise, but not as much as the pang of regret that Tess would be leaving. ‘I’ll pay for her lodging, of course, and whatever you need to furnish her room. And she’ll need kitting out with some respectable clothes. I don’t know what that nunnery thought it was doing, sending her out at this time of year in those thin things.’

  ‘I’ll see to it. You’re used to setting up birds of paradise in bijou little houses, not respectable young women in decent lodgings.’ Hannah sorted through the items on the end of her chatelaine and came up with a set of tablets and a pencil. ‘Now, what are your plans? Where are you going for Christmas?’

  ‘I’m staying here, as well you know. Will you join me for Christmas dinner, Hannah?’

  ‘I will not, but thank you. I’ll be off to my in-laws like every year.’ She sighed. ‘I wish you’d go home, you stubborn man.’

  ‘I am home, and in the absence of a warm invitation to the ancestral mansion, this is exactly where I am staying.’ And there’d be the sound of trotters on the roof tiles as the flying pigs landed before that particular invitation arrived.

  ‘It is ten years past, Alex.’ Hannah looked into the fire, not meeting his eyes. ‘Surely it is time to forgive?’

  ‘When I forget, then I’ll forgive.’ Surely she knew it was not just for him? A young man had died that bitter Christmas because of his father’s blind prejudice and need to hit out at his elder son.

  ‘You’ll have to go back one day. You are the heir.’

  ‘Over his dead body or mine. If it’s the latter, then I suppose they’ll let me have my shelf in the ancestral vault.’ He smiled at her to show that this was something he did not care about, that it no longer hurt.

  Hannah simply shook her head. ‘You’re as pig-headed as the earl is—you know that, don’t you?’ She cocked her head on one side and regarded him beadily. ‘Why not take a wife and produce an heir? That’s a revenge for you, Lord Moreland knowing that his precious lump of a younger son won’t inherit.’

  ‘And shatter all his fondly held beliefs about me? How unkind that would be. And what if I turn out to be as bad at marriage and fatherhood as he has?’

  ‘Impossible.’ Hannah grinned at him, suddenly finding her humour again. ‘No one could be that bad. I’m off to bed. I just hope that nice lass doesn’t have nightmares, bless her.’

  When the door closed behind her with a soft click Alex sat on, stroking the kitten, his unfocused gaze on the sinking embers. Tess would doubtless tell him that Christmas, on top of everything else, was the perfect time for reconciliation and forgiveness. It was a good thing she was leaving. Just for a moment he believed that she might even convince him it was true.

  *

  ‘I ought to say goodbye to Lord Weybourn,’ Tess said as Mrs Semple fastened the strap on Noel’s basket. ‘I must say thank you.’

  ‘You can send him a note.’ The housekeeper nodded to MacDonald, who opened the door and carried Tess’s bag down to the waiting hackney. ‘We need to get you to your new lodgings and work out what shopping you require.’

  ‘I haven’t much money,’ Tess ventured. She had very definitely been removed from the house, she thought, finding herself wedged into her seat with the cat basket deposited on her lap. Mrs Semple doesn’t approve of me. She saw that kiss and she thinks…

  ‘His lordship’s paying.’

  She thinks I’ve slept with him, that now he’s paying me off. ‘It will be a loan. Just as soon as I have employment and a wage, I’ll repay him.’

  Mrs Semple made a noise that might have been agreement, might have been disbelief. She was looking out of the window with a frown that wrinkled her brow.

  ‘Mrs Semple, I am not his mistress. What you saw last night—’

  ‘Was quite innocent on your side. Yes, I know.’ The housekeeper turned and smiled.

  ‘On both sides.’

  ‘He’s a man, and I
doubt he’s been an innocent for many years, Miss Ellery. No, don’t bristle up, he’s no predator on decent girls, he won’t be after seducing you. Or worse. But, like I say, he’s a man, you are a woman, and a pretty one under all that drab clothing and bandages. If he didn’t take an interest I’d be worried about his health.’

  A half delighted, half shocked snort of laughter escaped Tess. ‘You know Lord Weybourn very well?’

  ‘Since we were both six years old. My father was the Earl of Moreland’s estate manager. Alex is a good man. Stubborn as his sire, though.’ The frown was back.

  ‘You worry about him, don’t you? What has gone so wrong with his family?’

  Mrs Semple’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. ‘That’s his story to tell you. But I will tell you something. He is flagellating himself for leaving you somewhere that wasn’t safe for you. You’ll hurt his pride, if nothing else, if you make a fuss about paying him back for a few bits and pieces and a decent wardrobe of clothes.’

  ‘He wasn’t to know there would be any problem,’ Tess protested. ‘And he certainly wasn’t to blame.’

  ‘If he had taken you to the canal boat in time, then none of this would have happened, and I know you should have insisted and so on and so forth, but Alex Tempest has an over-developed sense of responsibility for all that care-nothing air he pretends to have. So are you going to make him miserable or are you going to swallow your pride and enjoy some decent clothes?’

  ‘I’ll swallow it,’ Tess conceded. I’m so far down that Primrose Path I may as well face the fact that I’m ruined and have a man buy me clothes. It was a pity I couldn’t be ruined properly while I was at it though… The thought caught her unawares and she scrabbled in her purse for a handkerchief to turn her gasp into a cough. ‘But nice clothes aren’t suitable for someone looking for a post as a governess.’

  ‘We’ll see. I suspect when Lord Weybourn puts his mind to it he’ll be able to steer you in the direction of something rather more elevated than your convent might have done.’ Mrs Semple’s gaze rested on her speculatively. ‘Hmm. Yes, I can see all sorts of possibilities.’ The frown vanished to be replaced with a mischievous smile. ‘Now let’s get this kitten settled and make a list of what you need. And call me Hannah, please.’

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Where the blazes is my coffee?’ Alex enquired of thin air. The dining room was bereft of footmen, his coffee jug had been empty for ten minutes, there was no sign of his toast and the fire needed making up. He should have known it was too good to last, the peace and quiet and order that had reigned for almost a week since the departure of Tess and the kitten.

  He wasn’t helpless and it wasn’t above his dignity to grapple with the coal tongs, but even so… With a sigh he got up, mended the fire and then gave the bell pull a prolonged tug. Silence. The hall, when he looked out, was deserted, the front door still bolted.

  It was not unheard of for housebreakers to raid London houses, tie up the staff and make off with the silver with the owners none the wiser for hours. Breakfast time was a strange time to attempt it, though. Feeling slightly melodramatic, Alex retrieved his cane from the hall stand and walked softly to the service door under the stairs.

  He was halfway down, wincing as a tread creaked, when he heard a thump and a clatter and took the remaining stairs in three strides. In the kitchen, her back to him, was a strange woman in a green gown. He could see the large bow of the voluminous apron that was wrapped round her, her glossy dark hair was topped by a large white cap; she had a badly bent toasting fork in one hand and the remains of half a dozen slices of bread around her feet.

  ‘You useless male object, you!’ she announced in tones of loathing.

  One glance around the kitchen was enough to show Alex that he was the only male in sight. ‘Madam? If you care to tell me who you are I will endeavour to be of rather more utility.’

  She whirled round, trampling the bread in the process. ‘Oh, no,’ Tess said flatly. ‘You.’

  ‘Me,’ Alex agreed and propped the cane unobtrusively in a corner. So not burglars, but an invasion that was far less easy to deal with. He told himself that the feeling in his chest was the after-effects of stalking burglars. Or dread. ‘What are you doing here—other than pulverising bread and breaking the kitchen equipment—and where is Mrs Semple?’

  Tess moved into the light. Oh, my God, her face. The bruise was now multicoloured and she had the fading remains of a black eye. ‘And you are supposed to be resting that ankle.’ Alex trampled on the urge to scoop her up and make her lie down. She wouldn’t thank him for mentioning the way she looked, and thinking about it would probably only make it hurt more. And once I have my hands on her I may not be able to let go.

  ‘Hannah is very much under the weather and in bed with a headache, so I am attempting to make your breakfast. Everything was going well, wasn’t it?’ She tossed the toasting fork on to the table and frowned at him. ‘The ham and eggs? The sausage? The hot rolls? They were all perfect, I thought. Only there is no more coffee and Noel knocked the bread off the table the moment I had sliced it and I bent the toasting fork when I made a dive for it.’

  ‘Where are MacDonald and Phipps? Or Byfleet, come to that?’ One end of the table was laid for four breakfasts with plates at various stages from egg smeared to laden but scarcely touched.

  ‘MacDonald has run out for coffee and bread. I sent Phipps to the lodging house with some medicine that Hannah asked for. Byfleet has gone to Jermyn Street, I think. Buying shirts.’ That was delivered in a rapid mutter from a crouched position on the floor where Tess was retrieving broken slices of bread.

  ‘Dare I ask why he needs to buy shirts at this time in the morning?’ The nape of her neck was exposed, soft and pale and vulnerable, begging for his lips. Alex took the toasting fork, braced the wrought iron handle against the tabletop and leaned on it. It was more or less straight when he squinted down the length. His brain was more or less in control of his animal instincts, too.

  Tess stood up with her hands full of bread, flinched when she found herself facing the prongs and looked round for somewhere to deposit her load.

  ‘On the fire,’ Alex suggested.

  ‘Throw food on the fire? I can’t do that. Sister Peter says it goes straight to the devil if you do that.’

  ‘And you believe her?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Tess found the slop bucket and tossed in the broken slices. ‘But it’s like not walking under ladders and tossing salt over your shoulder—one just gets into the habit.’

  ‘And I suppose nuns get into more habits than anyone,’ Alex observed, as he hitched one hip on to the table. He found a crust and buttered it lavishly. He should be both irritated and worried to find Tess back in the house; instead he felt oddly cheerful. Uncomfortably aroused, but happy.

  Tess’s harassed expression transformed into a grin. ‘That is a terrible pun!’ She picked up the toasting fork and studied it. ‘My goodness, you are strong.’

  ‘It is all the exercise I get tossing nuns about. Shirts?’ Alex prompted, resisting the instinctive grin in return. It would be dangerous to let things get too cosy.

  ‘All your clean ones were in the ironing basket in the scullery this morning, apparently. Then Noel found them.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘More urgh, actually, although Mr Byfleet expressed himself rather freely on the subject.’ She eyed him warily. ‘I can make you some tea and bring it up if you like.’

  ‘No, I would not like. I will sit down here and wait to find out why my infallibly efficient housekeeper has run out of coffee, why when she has never, in all the years I’ve known her, succumbed to a headache, she has taken to her bed with one and why, when she has, she sent you to make my breakfast.’

  ‘Hannah has been spending a lot of time with me, I’m afraid, buying clothes and settling me in. I expect she’s been distracted and forgot to check the store cupboard. And she was very quiet yesterday evening. I thought she was simply deep
in thought, but perhaps it was the headache.’

  ‘Have you had your breakfast?’ Alex found the honey and spread it on another crust.

  ‘I had mine first.’ Tess began to gather up the dirty crockery and took it through to the scullery. He noticed her limp had completely vanished. ‘Hannah says a scullery maid will come in later.’

  ‘So I believe. Tess, come back here and sit down.’ He waited until she returned and sat, neat and composed in her new dress and clean white apron. She folded her hands in her lap and regarded him, head on one side, like an inquisitive bird or a child waiting for an eccentric adult to do something entertaining. Very meek, very attentive. Why did he have the suspicion that she was laughing at him? ‘You shouldn’t be here.’ All he had to do was put his foot down; it should be a simple enough matter.

  ‘I am a perfectly good plain cook.’ Now she was managing to look wounded, blast her. ‘You would never have known I was here if it wasn’t for the problem with the coffee and the toast. Your staff are highly respectable.’ Alex opened his mouth, but she sailed on. ‘And who is to know?’

  ‘I know.’ And I am finding it decidedly unsettling. ‘You are not a servant.’

  ‘I am acting as your housekeeper. That is at least as respectable as being a governess in many households.’

  ‘Not for an unmarried lady, it isn’t.’ Alex dusted crumbs off his fingers and stood up. ‘I’ll call a hackney to take you back to the lodging house.’

  The door to the area opened and Phipps came in, gawped when he saw Alex and whipped off his hat. ‘Good morning, my lord.’

  ‘Good morning. And how is Mrs Semple’s headache?’

  ‘Not good, my lord. I didn’t see her, only Mrs Green, the lodging house keeper. She says it’s the influenza and two more of her lady lodgers have it.’

  ‘I must go and nurse Hannah.’ Tess was on her feet, pulling off cap and apron.

  ‘No, miss. Mrs Green said that she and her girl will look after the ladies and that Mrs Semple said you weren’t to go back and risk catching it. She’s had your bags packed and I’ve brought them here with me.’