Page 40 of To Winter at Wildsyde

“And thank heavens for it, if you will excuse my candour. I was at a loss for what to do with her. I confess, if not for your express instructions concerning the Scottish staff, I would have dismissed her.”

Ruth nodded, unsurprised by this. Garrick ran a tight ship, although unlike many households he did not approve of bullying and all the staff were well and fairly treated. All the same, in the usual run of things, such rudeness would have resulted in instant dismissal.

“And quite justifiably, I’m sure. However, I think we have come to an understanding. At least, I hope so, and I beg you to help the girl where you may. I believe much of her belligerence comes from a lack of confidence. A few encouraging words from you would go a long way.”

Garrick looked a little sceptical, but his reply was instant. “You may rely upon me.”

“Oh, I do, Garrick,” Ruth said with a laugh. “Just as I always have.”

“It’s my privilege, I assure you, Mrs Anderson.”

Ruth grinned at him. “Such flummery. You will inflate my opinion of myself beyond bearing and then you’ll regret it. Now then, where might I find my husband at this hour of the day, I wonder?”

“I believe he is in the study,” Garrick said, his expression carefully neutral.

Perfect.

Ruth shot him a mischievous look, which the butler did his best not to react to.

“How opportune,” she murmured, and hurried off to confront Gordy in the nightmare she’d made of his sanctuary.

***

“Come in.”

The terse reply to her knock confirmed Gordy was not in a good humour, which was hardly a surprise. She wasn’t sure Gordy had a good humour, though she remained stubbornly optimistic.

Steeling herself for whatever may come, Ruth opened the door to find her husband at his desk, glowering over a stack of correspondence. He glanced up, and she registered a glimmer of surprise at being sought out.

“Good morning, my sweet,” she said, favouring him with a warm smile. “I hope you slept well?”

Gordy’s glower darkened. “I dinnae sleep well at all. Ye hog the blankets.”

“Do I?” Ruth said, wishing she wasn’t quite so prone to blushing as her cheeks heated. “I do beg your pardon. I must need more practice at sharing,” she added, determined not to let him have the upper hand.

He snorted at that and returned his attention to the papers on his desk.

Ruth cast an uneasy glance about the room. Honestly, she’d forgotten how very dreadful it was. She almost felt guilty for it. Almost.

“Admiring yer handiwork?”

“I am,” she said, casting him a brilliant smile. “It’s inspired, don’t you think?”

“Aye, it’s damn near inspired me to open a vein,” he retorted, glancing about the walls and shuddering. “I cannae shake the feeling I’m being watched.”

Though she tried her best to hold it in, Ruth sniggered and covered her mouth with her hand. “I beg your pardon,” she said again, not meaning it a jot.

Gordy sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “Laugh it up,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. “Ye ought to enjoy yer victory, I suppose. I had nae notion my wife was so damned vindictive.”

“Oh, this is nothing,” Ruth replied, holding his gaze and meaning it.

“Is that a threat?” he demanded.

She shrugged, moving to straighten the drooping ribbon on the antlers of a glassy eyed stag. “Perhaps.”

He stared at her, looking truly alarmed, not that she blamed him, she’d only been in the room a few minutes and it was already making her queasy. All those eyes against the shocking pink wall really was disturbing.

“What d’ye want?”