Page 50 of Not Exactly Mr. Darcy
He hadn’t eaten yet, and he knew just how good Marge’s scones were. But no way was he going to touch someone else’s food. Call him petty, but it seemed like the final straw.
“You need to be more considerate of other people.” His voice was harsher than he wished.
Her lips rolled in, and she blinked then nodded. “I’m sorry.”
Now he felt like a heel. Why was it always easier to bark than bite his tongue?
She swallowed. “Um, the other day, George said there was a barbecue I could use. Is there someone who can help me setting it up?” Her voice was small, lacking her usual bounce and energy.
He withheld a sigh. Most of his volunteers appeared to be those with more good intentions than skills. He’d heard several mumble that they didn’t think they’d be stuck out in the gardens weeding all day, and that they were only staying until the free lunch and then they’d go home. Their sour mood was starting to impact the others, so it might be good to send them home soon.
He jerked a nod and gestured for her to follow him to the family’s storage areas on the other side of the rear courtyard. Here, next to the garages with roller doors that no longer worked properly, was an assortment of outdoor furniture he’d put away. What was the point of outdoor sun lounges when the family home was no longer a private space? Even if the back area wasn’t so dismal to look at, it could still be overlooked from the rear windows of the house. And while Georgina might’ve ventured to try out a sun lounge a time or two, he hadn’t. His role allowed little time for downtime. He couldn’t think of the last time he’d actually relaxed.
He dragged open the door to the shed. Removed the barbecue’s plastic cover. A large spider scuttled out. Liv gave a sharp inhalation but didn’t shriek. Seemed rodents were her weakness, not creepy-crawly things.
“Grab that end.” They needed to lift the metal frame over the cobblestones, else the wheels would get stuck. She obeyed his directions, still quiet, which might be the longest he’d heard her go without speaking. She seemed to be avoiding his gaze too. Had he been harsher than he’d realized?
They reached the carriageway, and she put her end down. “Thank you.”
He nodded and turned to leave.
“Um, do you know if the gas bottle is full?”
Good point. He hadn’t used it in years. “I’ve got no idea.”
“Would … would you mind checking for me? Please?”
He checked, nodded. “It seems to have enough gas.” Then he glanced at her.
Something was wrong. Here in the light of midday he could see the shadows under her eyes. Okay, so yes, he was being petty about the scones and her earlier comment about his looks. She was entitled to her opinion, just as he was too. And while she wouldn’t win any beauty contests, there had been a time or two when she’d laughed and he thought her quite pretty indeed. But that life and vivacity had gone now. She likely had had just as draining a day as he, even if she was working inside.
She lifted her lips, still not quite looking at him. “Thank you for your help. And for cleaning the fountain. I can’t wait to see it.”
“It looks a lot better,” he said gruffly. And yes, she might’ve been right about the interest in the fountain. He’d already seen a few people pose in front of it, taking pictures. If that was today, while it was still not working, then what kind of interest would there be when it was? But that would take money he didn’t have. Money. Always money.
“Good.” She nodded. “Well, I’d better get cooking.”
“Cooking?”
“The sausage sandwiches.” She gave a ghost of a smile. “I don’t want anyone else going without because I’m a bit distracted.”
An apology rose within. He held it back. She needed to learn that the Hall depended on everyone doing their part. Nobody was more important than the other.
He’d been glad that at least nobody had seemed to recognize him today. He’d let Tobias take the lead, nodding to a few locals whom he recognized, ignoring those he didn’t, except to tell them where to weed. He’d trust the hedge clipping to nobody but himself and Tobias.
At least no local reporters had shown up. He’d done his best to avoid all of them in recent years. They were always too nosy, wanting gossip he had no intention of sharing. His family might own a house opened to the public, but it didn’t mean his private life was fit for consumption. And the British press was notorious for celebrity muckraking and slander. Even the royals weren’t immune from it.
She rubbed her forehead, smearing it with dirty soot, but before he could mention anything, she turned and hurried away.
Chapter 11
“Did you know you have soot on your face?” Marge pointed to her forehead.
“What?” How long had that been there? Liv sighed and tried to wipe it off.
Marge shook her head. “If it’s greasy, then you’ll need soap. Go use the bathrooms around the back. We’ve just mopped the floor in here.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
