Page 9 of Indecently Employed
Without his babbling, Miss Abbotts eventually seemed compelled to fill the uncomfortable silence.
“I feel I must be forthcoming, so that you don’t paint me in an unflattering light.”
That was impossible, he was sure. For if her heavy, outdated, dour clothing couldn’t diminish her natural delicacy, no artist could, no matter how inept.
“You suggested in our interview that perhaps I had a less-than-professional relationship with my prior employer.” She hesitated, her face now fully flushed. “The Earl of Clifton.”
Ajax raised his eyebrows in acknowledgment.
“You were correct. However, I must tell you that I left with the utmost haste this evening due tohis…” she paused, then slowly drew out the word she’d decided on, “displeasure.”
Ajax sat up. “What do you mean?” He narrowed his eyes. Though he disliked rubbing shoulders with aristos like Clifton, the damned bastards seemed to show up everywhere worth being, and one did hear things.
Miss Abbotts’s wide brown eyes somehow grew wider, watching his face as she knit her fingers together in her lap. Ajax couldn’t help but drop his gaze to them. The same cool, soft hands that had only moments before brushed against his.
“I believe it would be better to leave it at that, and put the matter behind us,” she said after a moment. Although her tone was gentle, her eyelashes fluttered in a way that suggested she didn’t quite believe her own summation. “If that’s all right with you, sir.”
Now the sounds of the fire filled the silence between them. Miss Abbotts stared at her lap, her hands twisting about one another, and Ajax stared at her.
Had that bastard taken her? The thought seized his gut with envy. But she hadn’t denied it when he’d asked her if she loved the man. Governesses were allowed their dalliances, he supposed. And this governess was certainly pleasing to the eye. She resembled the subject of that small domestic painting, he realized. The one at Arthur Tooth & Sons, the one he should have bought, if only Rokeby hadn’t ferreted him out at just the wrong moment. Suddenly he wanted her that way—barefoot, hair undone, needlework in her lap. Smiling at him.
Egad. Ajax didn’t know the first thing about needlework. He frowned, a confused sort of shame pricking at the back of his neck.
“If that’s your wish, we’ll put the subject from our minds,” he said, although he didn’t trust himself to keep to his word. Perhaps he could maintain some sense of decency about this topic of conversation around her, but his filthy, jealous thoughts would no doubt revisit it time and time again.
She gave him such an earnest smile of gratitude that he almost confessed the whole of those thoughts right then and there. Almost. She hadn’t even met Charlotte yet, and he had to keep it together for… two years? Three? He sighed.
“Please accept my apology, sir. I promise that things will go smoothly from here on out.”
It was Ajax’s turn to give her a sad smile. “I wouldn’t waste your time worrying about that, Miss Abbotts.”
In time he managed to soothe her wounded dignity enough that she agreed to let him lead her to her room, and they made their way out of the library and up the stairs to the next floor. Ajax held her carpet bag, assuring her he did not mind playing footman; that he felt poorly enough for his staff as it was, having to deal with him. She hadn’t even smiled at that.
“My word, what is it you keep in here, Miss Abbotts? Bricks?” He grinned from the top of the staircase, standing back so she might pass him.
“No, just books.” She blinked and looked at him, ready to continue.
“Oh? Classics? Latin? Heaven’s sakes, I don’t think Charlotte knows a lick of Latin. Go easy on the girl.” He held out an arm, directing Miss Abbotts down the hallway ahead of them, cold and empty in the low light emitted by the lamps in their sconces.
She looked up at him from under those lashes, tentative and shy as she passed by. “When will I meet Miss Sedley?” Then she added in a whisper, “I do hope we’re not disturbing her.”
Ajax laughed, following behind. “Oh, no. I barely keep enough staff here as it is; I’m in no way prepared to house a child. In fact,” he struck a jovial sort of tone, hoping it would lighten the tension, “I’m not even set up to house a governess, really.”
He stopped in front of the second-best bedroom and flung the door open. With a quick, appraising glance inside, he turned back to Miss Abbotts, relieved that the housekeeper had managed to remove the white sheets from the furniture along with a cartload’s worth of dust.
“Your room. For now.”
Shock lit upon her face; her pert, pretty lips formed a word that did not come. He found he liked the expression far too much.
“Don’t refuse, everything else is moldering under centuries of grime. I barely use this house, and like I said, there’s only a skeleton staff, so it’s not as if their quarters are more convivial.” It was true; after finishing school he’d rushed hotfoot to Gallox Castle, content to return to London only to indulge his more epicurean desires: food, art, theater, and women. He’d purchased this house solely as a place to recuperate from nights of debauchery.
“But Miss Sedley?” she managed to squeak out.
“Safe and sound, and far more comfortable with my niece and cousin at my brother’s house. Don’t worry, we’ll visit tomorrow.” He raised an eyebrow, recalling the terms Harmonia had demanded in exchange for Charlotte’s room and board. “And every day, actually.”
“But how? How am I to instruct her? How are we to become better acquainted? Mr. Sedley, this is very unconventional.”
He walked into the room, placing her bag on a settee. “This is quite nice, actually. It’s been years since I’ve seen it made up.” He put his hands on his hips, taking in the marble fireplace, the fine silk bed curtains, the charming little ferns on plant stands flanking a window. His housekeeper must’ve added those this morning.
