“Good day, Lady Hadley.”
His chipper greeting eased the tightness in her chest. Perhaps he was the jovial type who would have a good laugh when she admitted to fooling him, although it might be at her expense. She didn’t mind being the butt of a joke, but what if she was wrong about his forgiving nature? Surely he wouldn’t hold Gemma accountable. Bess would impress upon him that her cousin played no part in the pretense, just as soon as she screwed up enough courage to tell him.
He stopped on the top step. His brown hair was damp at his temples, dark and glistening like a raven’s wings.
“We meet again, my lord.”
“Always a pleasure.” A devilish twinkle in his eyes caused her insides to quiver with excitement. “I expect we’ll see a lot of each other over the next few days.”
And that was the problem—seeing too much of him. He’d discarded his jacket and waistcoat since their last encounter, and the translucent fabric of his shirt did nothing to hide the definition of his flexed biceps. It was challenging not to ogle. Had she not seen much more of his impressive figure on two previous occasions, the sight of him in his shirtsleeves would have come as a shock. She was beyond being scandalized, but she wasn’t immune to him.
Fanning her face to cool her overheated skin, she said, “I thought we established you are a guest at Davensworth Cottage. Why are you performing a servant’s duties?”
He tipped his head. “Your cheeks are flushed. Are you overtaxing yourself?”
“No, not in the least.” She dropped her hands at her sides, embarrassed he had noticed her involuntary reaction.
He narrowed his eyes. The intensity of his inspection made her self-conscious. She reached for her earlobe. “Mm-hmm,” he muttered. “Have you stopped working since you woke?”
She inhaled slowly to calm her churning breath. One quick shake of her head acknowledged she had not.
“I’d wager you haven’t had a morsel of food either.” His thick brows were like stern slashes hovering low over his eyes. “There is no harm in having a lie down.” His harping should have irritated her, but his concern for her wellbeing was touching, albeit unnecessary.
“I don’t need a rest, my lord, and you are a guest. You shouldn’t be performing manual labor.”
A dimpled grin transformed his face in a flash. “Should I leave it to the mice to do?"
He was teasing again, so she took no offense. “The troubles at Davensworth Cottage are temporary,” she said. “We cannot risk having it known you were asked to perform chores. Additionally, we are vermin free.”
“No mice? All the more reason you need my help, I say. Besides, I volunteered my services.”
“Out of necessity. Do you know how that sounds? Gemma’s reputation—”
“You needn’t worry about Miss Price losing her social standing. What happens under this roof does not concern the neighbors.”
With a sigh, she met his gaze head on. She’d always read people through their eyes, assessed their intentions, ascertained the truth in their hearts. Julius’s hazel eyes were open windows, warm and shining with sincerity. A large chunk of the wall she’d erected to protect herself crumbled. Like it or not, she needed help if there was any hope of restoring order to the house before Christmas.
“Very well, I accept.”
“Splendid.” Julius adjusted the logs in his arms. “I wouldn’t enjoy tying you to a chair to force you to slow down, despite your belief to the contrary."
A fresh wave of heat swept over her. She’d been cheeky earlier, accusing him of plans to tie up his future wife.
“Heavens, I’m in your way.” She stepped aside to allow him to pass. “Your load must be heavy.”
“A little, but I don’t mind.”
He paused at the landing and studied the end of the corridor. The house was a maze of passageways. Throughout the years, new additions had been tacked on to the original house in a haphazard manner. Bess liked the unpredictability of not knowing what was around the next corner, although it made navigation difficult.
“May I help you find something?” she asked.
“Robbie said I should replenish the supply in Miss Price’s chambers, but I’ve forgotten his directions.”
She laughed. “Is Robbie giving the orders now?”
“I insisted.” Julius’s wide grin was a testament to his good nature. “Have you seen the lad split wood?”
She shook her head.
“Neither have I.” He cocked an eyebrow. “But he gave a good effort before I took the ax away. It’s a wonder he hasn’t lost a foot.”
“Well, thank you for intervening.”
Lord Julius had been splitting firewood, which explained his disheveled appearance. Of course, it hadn’t occurred to a man of his station to use the servant staircase to carry the logs above stairs.
“Come with me,” she said. “I’ll show you the way.”
After the firewood was delivered to her cousin’s chambers, he smacked his hands together to clear the dust and debris. “What shall I do now? I am your humble servant.”
She considered sending him back to Robbie for orders, but decided it was the coward’s way. Eventually, she must tell the truth about last night and face the consequences.
“The drawing room hasn’t been touched,” she said.
“Lead the way."
She and Lord Julius settled into a comfortable partnership and worked side-by-side into the afternoon. His assistance made the work less grueling, but Bess was still exhausted when they stopped to take tea. It would have been the perfect time to clear the air, but Gemma joined them a few moments before Robbie arrived with the tea cart. Gemma, who’d been helping Anne polish the silver and organize the butler’s panty, looked as wilted as Bess felt.
“I noticed a pianoforte in the drawing room,” Julius said. “Do either of you play?”
Gemma nodded.
“Me, too.” Bess wrinkled her nose. “But I have no talent, much to my mother’s chagrin. She is my stepmother, actually. She married my father when I was very young.”
Julius dipped a sliver of sugar in his tea. “Evil or good?”
“Pardon?”
“Your stepmother. Was she evil or good? I’ve heard tales.”
“She was kind, but stricter with me than she was with her own children.” Bess shrugged. “It might have something to do with them being boys. Males tend to be given more leeway.”
“Not in my family,” Julius said. “Our mother treats all of us the same. She refers to us as her minions.”
Bess laughed. “The marchioness has a sense of humor, I see.”
“I don’t think she is joking.” The twinkle in his eyes said he was, though. “I learned to play the pianoforte. It was meant as a punishment for interrupting my older sister while she practiced. I enjoyed the lessons. I continued them longer than Mercedes.”
“You played for the annual Christmas pageant one year,” Gemma said. “You were marvelous.”
He met Bess’s gaze. “We should have a sing along once all the work is done. Nothing gets everyone into the spirit of Christmas like carols.”