Page 70 of Why Do Earls Fall in Love?
“She won’t do or say a thing.”
Eli scoffed. “If that’s what ye think, ye haven’t been payin’ attention.”
Charlotte was heartened by the boy’s belief in her, but it only made the steward angrier.
“She won’t say a thing because you won’t be telling her, you guttersnipe.”
Charlotte jumped as a hand shot out and grabbed the boy by the shirt. It gave a hard yank and he disappeared into the room.
She dashed to the doorway. Hurley had his hand fisted in the boy’s shirt. His temper shone clear in his high color, but it looked more like shock than anger on his face. He frowned, looking puzzled, as he stared down at his fist and then into the boy’s face. “Who the hell are you?” he snarled.
Charlotte knew then that her half-formed suspicions had been right. And that she would have to get rid of this man. Right now.
“Unhand the boy,” she ordered sharply.
It was a battle of wills as they glared at each other over a head of unruly curls.
“Let him go. Now, Hurley.”
With a snarl and a curse, he pushed the boy away.
“I’ve had enough of you,” she told the steward. “You are done, here.”
“No!” Eli gasped.
“Yes. Eli, run to the kitchens and bring back Mr. Flemming and his largest kitchen knife.”
The boy hesitated. “I don’t think . . .”
“Now!”
He went, brushing past her, then racing down the corridor.
Hurley’s lip lifted. “You don’t know what a storm you will kick up, firing me.”
She snorted. “I think I can withstand it, thank you. Now, you will pack your things. Only your things, mind you. And you will go.”
The man moved to pick up the ledger on the desk.
“Not the books. Your things only, I said.”
Mr. Flemming arrived, with a shining butcher knife and the news that he’d sent Eli to fetch some lads from the stables. If Hurley thought they might back him, he was quickly disabused of the notion. Staff gathered and watched from a distance and each and every one seemed pleased or relieved at the turn of events.
They escorted the steward to his rooms and supervised as he packed his belongings. He grew surlier and more contentious as Charlotte stopped him from taking several ornamental figures and bottles of wine and liquor. He snarled and fussed, but at last he was done, and the men escorted him out. Charlotte watched from a window as they walked him out the back, through the garden and into the alley before the mews. Hurley tried to talk to them, but he met only shaking heads and pointing fingers. A stable hand spat after him when he finally turned to go.
She sank into a chair. “What a day.”
Margie nodded sympathetically. “It was nicely done, ma’am. We are all well rid of him.”
Eli came to the doorway. “The day ain’t done with you yet. You’d better come downstairs. His lordship is back.”
