An Affair Downstairs Read online

  “I’m not sure. It doesn’t feel right. One more time?” She wanted his arms around her once more, but he shook his head.

  “No, you look good. Nearly ready.”

  “Nearly?” She would never get to hold a rifle, let alone shoot one.

  “Next, we need to determine your eye dominance.”

  “Eye dominance?”

  “Put your arm straight out in front of you and point at that tree.”

  “Which tree? We’re surrounded by trees.” They’d positioned themselves at the edge of the woods, far enough away from the house but close enough to be seen at a distance.

  “The center tree. Very well.” He shook his head and walked up to the tree, then shouted back. “Now point your finger at me and close one eye, and then the other. Not both at once. Look with your right eye. Then look with your left.”

  “Oh.” She’d closed both eyes, confused. “Yes?”

  “Which eye lined up with the finger pointing straight at me?”

  “My right eye,” she said after opening, closing, and opening again.

  “And the left?”

  “I looked like I was pointing to the tree beside you when I looked with my left eye alone.”

  “And with both eyes open?”

  “I still appear to be pointing straight at you, as with the right eye alone.”

  “Good.” He closed the distance between them. “That’s ideal. Some people shoot with one eye closed, but I generally find it a good idea to keep both open. We’ll let you experiment a bit to see what works best for you.”

  “I get to shoot something now?” She had her doubts. It seemed he would put her off with something else.

  “Not today. Today, I want you to get used to the feel of the rifle in your arms.”

  She threw her head back in frustration. “That’s it?”

  “It’s getting dark.” He shrugged. “Brumley probably can’t see you from the house anymore, and you’ll have to be getting ready for dinner soon.”

  “Dinner is hours away. Aren’t you coming?”

  “Tonight? I thought I would dine downstairs, then go back to work in the conservatory.”

  “Downstairs? With the servants?” She tried not to sound so surprised. “You’re not one of them.”

  “I’m not one of you.” He looked at her pointedly. “Lest you forget, I am in the employ of the Earl of Averford. And sometimes I like to hear what the servants have to say. It gives me valuable insight into what’s needed to keep things running smoothly here at Thornbrook Park. Plus, as you might have noticed, I’m running low on supplies at the cottage.”

  “I wish I could dine downstairs. They seem like a fun bunch.”

  “The downstairs crew? Some of them are not so bad. Others?” He pulled a face.

  “Much like the upstairs lot, I suppose. Some are preferable to others.”

  He held a rifle to his shoulders, as if he would shoot, and put it down again. “As far as dinner goes, I do prefer the downstairs. They’re much lighter spirits.”

  “The servants, lighter spirits? With all they have to do all day?”

  “Their day is closer to over and they’re ready to cut loose. The footman Bill plays ragtime on the piano sometimes. Scott Joplin, Ben Harney. The maids like to dance. Sometimes, they partner up with the chauffeur.”

  “Dale? Dale likes to dance?” She tried to picture the gangly chauffeur twirling a maid around the kitchen. “Now I really wish I could dine downstairs.”

  “It can be entertaining. They’re usually a bit more subdued when I’m present, unfortunately.”

  “You do have that grave manner about you.” She peeked up at him from under her lashes to be sure he wasn’t offended. “It wouldn’t hurt to smile more.”

  “I’ll take it under consideration. Now, back to rifles.” He picked up the weapon.

  “There you go. Straight back to business. You can’t seem to help yourself, Mr. Winthrop.”

  “I’m a man of business, Lady Alice. The sooner we complete ours, the sooner I can get on to other tasks. Now, this is the lock…”

  She tried to pay attention as he pointed to and named parts of the rifle, but she struggled to hold back tears. She’d thought they were getting on until he casually informed her that she was only another task on his list of things to do. But then, wasn’t that exactly what he was to her, just another item on her list? When had it become personal? What made him such an ideal conquest was the lack of emotional involvement between them, she reminded herself. So why was she feeling hurt?

  She squared her shoulders, determined. He hadn’t said anything that should occasion her tears. He simply had no idea how she dreamed about being in his arms, and he still hadn’t entertained any thoughts about her. No matter how intimate things had seemed. She’d been in his bed. Likely, he hadn’t even thought of her as a woman in his bed. To him, she was still Lady Alice, nuisance. Would she ever get anywhere with this man?

  “Are you paying attention?” Halfway through rattling off the catalog of parts, he paused and looked at her.

  She felt a hot tear sliding down her cheek, but she refused to acknowledge its presence. It was a reminder of her failure, and that was all. It certainly wasn’t a sign of her emotional engagement. She refused to believe it. “I’m sorry. I find I’m slightly distracted. Hunger, perhaps. All that talk of dinner. Could you start again?”

  “Or maybe we should quit for the day. I don’t want to overwhelm you. There is a lot to learn.”

  “Yes. That’s probably best,” she said quietly.

  “I’ll leave you with the most important lesson of all. Never point a rifle at anything you don’t intend to shoot.”

  Her heart dropped to her stomach. “You’ve already broken your own rule. You pointed a rifle at me earlier today.”

  “But the rifle wasn’t loaded. I was sure of it. And you were invading my home. Had you been a robber, I might have intended to shoot you.” His lips were drawn to a flat line, no hint of a smile.

  “You might have shot me by mistake, and who would blame you?”

  “I didn’t shoot you, though, Lady Alice. And perhaps you should take it as a lesson not to go sneaking around where you don’t belong.”

  If his words hadn’t already cut her, he certainly went in for the kill with that last bit. He might as well have shot her. His words blasted a hole right through her center, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be the same. None of their day together had been a pleasure for him. He couldn’t have made it clearer to her. His laughter, his hands on her, sharing details from his past. It was all necessity. Business. She’d become his responsibility for the day, and he’d followed through with what was required of him. Nothing more. She had no idea why it bothered her so. It was a setback, but not a personal affront.

  “You’re right, Mr. Winthrop,” she said, careful to keep her chin up and show no sign of weakness. “I’m learning. I won’t bother you again. Thank you for the lesson. Good night.”

  With that, she turned and marched straight into the growing darkness, not stopping until she reached the Dower House’s gate. Then she leaned against one of the iron railings and let the tears fall until she was all cried out.

  ***

  “Congratulations, old man. You’ve done it,” Logan said out loud to himself, standing in the dark as he watched Alice walk away.

  He hadn’t expected it to be so easy. Lively, buoyant Alice had proven to be more thin-skinned than he suspected. In his mind, he’d planned to be much more direct and cruel. In execution, he felt that he’d only managed to come off as a bit severe. And still, she could barely contain her emotions when she walked away. Once he saw the tears, it had almost been all over for him. The temptation to take her in his arms and comfort her, to tell her how he’d really begun to feel about her, had been almost overwhelming. Almost. But he’d managed to carry on and get it done, to prove to Alice once and for all that there was nothing but business between them. He was doing his duty, nothing more.
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  He didn’t wake up every morning eager to see her smile. He never went out of his way hoping to bump into her. She wasn’t on his mind unless she was directly in front of him, making herself unavoidable. He had no feelings for her at all. She was just another member of the family he served. Or so it had to be.

  An ache filled his lungs, nearly cutting off his ability to breathe. He hadn’t felt so empty, so alone, since Julia’s death years ago. But it wasn’t as if Alice had died, he reminded himself. She had her youth and good humor. A little heartache was part of growing up. What young woman hadn’t once cried bitter tears for the wrong man?

  Had Julia cried for him? He wondered. He’d never known. She’d chosen to marry Stanhope, and it had cost her dearly. She’d certainly cried over Stanhope, time and time again. In the end, Logan had been the one to comfort her, but he’d been all too aware that she’d soaked his handkerchief with tears of pain, sorrow, and regret for the man that the Earl of Stanhope had turned out to be, and not for what she’d given up with Logan. He’d lost her as a lover, but had remained her dutiful friend. Duty kept him centered. His life’s purpose had become to serve. There really wasn’t anything else left for him.

  Once Alice drifted entirely from view, Logan turned back toward the woods, lifted one of the loaded rifles, and shot at the thick trunk of the tree he’d stood in front of not long ago. He couldn’t see in the dark, but he knew that his shot hit dead center. His shots never missed the mark, even when words were his chosen weapon, a pity for poor young Alice’s heart.

  ***

  Alice wasn’t giving up. Once she’d calmed down and thought things through, she realized that Mr. Winthrop simply did not understand how much he needed her. Yet.

  The truth was that she’d given him reason to laugh again. Whatever he’d gone through in the past was serious and shattering, and no one had bothered to build the man back up. He certainly wasn’t capable of doing it himself. He’d buried himself in duty and responsibility and forgotten how to live. She meant to remind him.

  If he hadn’t been such a thoughtless prig during her shooting lesson, he might have had the honor of a visit from her after hours in the conservatory. She might have finally been bold enough to deliver the kiss that would rouse him from his slumber. Fairy tales could be reversed, couldn’t they? Perhaps in their version, he was the sleeping beauty, and she would have to fight the dragons of his past that weighed on him and leave him free to live again. She fancied herself in head-to-toe armor headed to battle. It was a good look for her. But tonight, instead of armor, she wore a rose-colored gown that Sophia had once feared would clash with the red in Alice’s hair.

  Ridiculous, she thought, looking into her mirror. It looked entirely too pretty on her to waste on Mr. Brumley. Suddenly, she wished she hadn’t left the plum sheath with the Elizabethan collar in Sophia’s dressing room. Perhaps if she left early, she would have time to change? But the Thornes were still in residence. Eve would probably interfere again and agree that the rose looked lovely on Alice, and Sophia would realize that even with Alice’s hair, the rose was better than the plum by far. She resigned herself to the rose.

  In any event, she wouldn’t see Mr. Winthrop tonight. He needed time to himself to realize just how miserable his dutiful life was without Alice to delight him.

  “Alice, you never fail to delight me.” He had said it in his kitchen just that morning. He could deny it and claim he’d said “surprise” instead of “delight” all he wanted, but she knew the truth. She’d heard him loud and clear. In an unguarded moment, he’d admitted how she truly affected him. He’d never convince her that he was indifferent to her, at least not for long.

  “The spirits have been active!” Agatha declared, storming into Alice’s room. “We have a poltergeist.”

  “A poltergeist? Is that why you’re not ready for dinner?”

  Agatha’s white hair, out of her chignon, flew every which way. She wore only her camisole and pantalets. Agatha hadn’t bothered with a corset in twenty years. “Indeed. No need for fear, my child. Poltergeists are seldom vindictive. They’re more known for mischief and playful tricks. It seems that tonight’s playful trick was to hide my canary gown that I’d planned to wear. I’ve looked everywhere. No sign of it.”

  “Where could it be? Spirited away?” Alice knew exactly where it was, left behind at Winthrop’s, but she could hardly confess that to Agatha. Tonight, she would let the ghost take the blame.

  “Exactly!” Agatha wagged a finger. “Whisked into the spirit world until our culprit decides to bring it back. Perhaps if I leave a bowl of sweet milk and crackers on the bedside table, the spirit will take an interest and return with my gown.”

  “Poltergeists like sweet milk and crackers?”

  Agatha nodded. “They adore sweets. Oh, but so does Miss Puss. She might drink it all up before the poltergeist returns. Dear, what’s to be done?”

  Miss Puss was Agatha’s ghost cat, a remnant from Lord Averford’s grandmother’s time. Only Agatha had seen Miss Puss in recent years. “I suggest you choose another gown for dinner. Sophia’s sending the car for us in a quarter hour. I can meet Dale and delay.”

  “Good child. Yes. That will help. I’ll wear my chartreuse instead. If only we could figure out who our poltergeist is and what he wants. Once they get what they’re after, they usually fade back into the netherworld.”

  Alice shrugged. “Perhaps he’s a she. She did take your gown. I hardly think a male would do such a thing.”

  Agatha smiled as if Alice had said something ridiculous. “Sweet, innocent Alice. There are plenty of men who enjoy dressing up in gowns. You wouldn’t know about such things of course, but I had a lover once who…”

  “You? Had a lover?” Alice had imagined that Agatha had always been single, never married or even kissed. Never before had Agatha mentioned having a lover.

  “I’ve had several. Why do you think I never married? I was ruined before I was eighteen. I couldn’t resist Lord Pottersdam, the scoundrel, and he convinced me to run away with him. He refused to marry me, of course, because he had an understanding with Lady Sylvia Mannersly, a much wealthier heiress. After that, there were Lord Fitzharris and Mr. Scottsdale. Oh, and Lord Beauville. He’s the one who liked to wear my clothes.”

  “You’ve never said anything. All these years. I thought you were a spinster.”

  “Well, of course. I never married. Your mother prefers people to think I’ve been chaste. It has been so long since I’ve had a lover that everyone’s forgotten. Remember that, dear heart, if you’re ever in a pinch. Scandals pass. There’s always a new one to wipe away the old.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind.” She wondered if her aunt had foreseen scandal in her near future. Alice certainly hoped so. “You get ready. I’ll go down and wait for the car.”

  Six

  With the arrival of the lemon trees two weeks later, Alice decided to resume speaking to Mr. Winthrop. She’d offered her help with them after all, and it hardly seemed fair to leave the man alone with Brumley, even if Winthrop had behaved wretchedly toward her in pretending there wasn’t an attraction between them.

  Unfortunately, Brumley wouldn’t be put off, no matter how she’d tried to dissuade him. She believed in equal rights for women. He believed wives should be subservient to their husbands. She enjoyed outdoor activities. He preferred to sit inside with a book. Every time she pointed out a departure of sensibilities between them, he seemed to take it as encouragement to further press a courtship.

  She had a feeling that he was getting dangerously close to proposing, putting her in the awkward position of having to say no and explain the refusal to her sister. Sophia would never understand why Alice would turn down such an opportunity, leading to arguments between them, and what if Sophia threatened to send her home to Mother? It would be far easier to simply convince Brumley that there could never be any love between them.

  She paused outside the conservatory. What if Brumley were there, but Win
throp wasn’t? She couldn’t risk being alone with Brumley when he seemed to be waiting for the chance to request her hand. Winthrop would never appreciate how vulnerable a position she had put herself in for his sake. Still, she decided to hazard a walk downstairs, target the first available maid, and insist that she needed assistance. She would ring for one except that they were all so carried away with preparations for the ball that most of them had stopped responding to bells unless they could be sure the earl or countess was ringing.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Alice bumped straight into Winthrop, who was carrying an enormous pair of gardening shears.

  “You seem intent on impaling me,” she quipped. True to form, he didn’t even manage a small smile. Why did she put herself out for him?

  “The sharp end is facing my way. I would never risk carrying shears point-out. It would be madness.”

  “Relax, Mr. Winthrop. I was joking.”

  He raised a dark brow. “Do you find something funny in safety hazards?”

  “Says the man who pointed a rifle at someone he did not intend to shoot, or so he claims.” She would not lose her sense of humor, no matter how stone-faced he chose to remain.

  “We’ve been over that. The rifle wasn’t loaded. You might have been a robber. But speaking of rifles, why haven’t you turned up for your next lesson? Capricious Lady Alice, her interest proves short-lived once again.” His eyes flashed with a challenge.

  She would not be cowed. “I thought you had enough duties in running Thornbrook Park without taking on the burden of one more. I’ll learn to shoot. Eventually.” She hadn’t been near a rifle since her ill-fated afternoon with Winthrop.

  “Soon.” His eyes narrowed. “Or you’ll forget everything I already showed you and our efforts will have been a waste of time.”

  “Not a waste, Mr. Winthrop. I have a sharp mind. I’ll not soon forget the lesson I learned.” She smiled, smug. “To further prove I’m not capricious, I’ve come to offer my assistance with the lemon trees. I’d told you I would, and here I am. How did they fare on the journey?”