Page 5 of Never Dare to Masquerade with a Maiden

Anne’s voice was an octave higher. She was up to no good. Curiosity getting the better of him, he asked, “Why?”

“The estate matters cannot be ignored.”

“I wasn’t referring to your papa’s activities, and you well know it. You have no fondness for London or its frivolities. Who is this ‘friend’ who has convinced you to return to the very environment that you claim shall be the downfall of all mankind?”

“It’s a secret.”

“A secret! We don’t keep secrets from one another.”

“We do now.” Anne opened and walked through the fence. As she slipped the rope that held the gate in place, she smiled and turned to add, “You should focus on finding your angel before your mama, or worse, Lady Osbourne, finds you a suitable wife.”

“I’ll not let the matter go, Anne. You will disclose what you are up to by the time we arrive at Guernsey Manor tomorrow, or you shall not be sleeping under the same roof as I.” He employed his sternest “lordship” tone, the one that made people quiver and jump to do his bidding, though in reality he had little power over them. He was merely wealthier and more acquainted with influential peers than most.

Anne, of course, knew that secret about him as well. All that his tone had garnered him was a shrug and a broad smile. Then the frustrating woman turned and, with a bounce similar to that of his mother’s earlier, she marched toward Ellington Place, the estate that bordered his and was like a second home to Warren.

As he retraced his steps back to Guernsey Manor, images of a boy and a small girl with pigtails that had come loose chasing him flashed before his mind’s eye. Head pounding in time with his footfalls, Warren continued. What prevented him from remembering their names or seeing their faces clearly?

Chapter Two

A bead of sweat trickled down the back of Olivia’s neck. The kitchens were always a hive of activity, allowing her mind to focus on the task at hand and preventing her overactive imagination from taking over. Pot in one hand, she raised her other to push the signet ring tied about her neck to the back, out of her way and out of her thoughts. After a decade of avoiding the boy, who was now grown and who had inherited the title of Viscount Guernsey, she should have been an expert at banishing the image of him from her mind, yet his stunning blue eyes and handsome jawline never failed to appear in her dreams each night.

“Daydreaming again?” Ian teased.

In perpetual disbelief at his deep, gravelly voice, Olivia jumped with a start. “You shouldn’t be in the kitchens!”

“Well, if you ever left the kitchen, I’d not have to venture into this melting pot.” He tugged at his collar.

No longer confined to the stables, Ian was still adjusting to his new position as a footman. He was constantly squirming in his livery. Olivia wiped her wet hands on her apron before reaching to adjust his cravat and patting him on the chest. “Why are you here… this time?”

“To remind you that Lord Camden and the Countess shall be returning at any moment now.”

She had managed to join the Earl of Camden’s staff due to Ian’s referral and recommendation but had yet to meet her new employers. “Stop your fussing. I promise not to make a hash of my meeting with Lady Charlotte, or his lordship.”

“Need I remind you Houston informed us this morn that Lord Camden intends to remain in Town for the Season?”

Urgh. Olivia’s shoulders shook at the mention of the tyrannical and overly suspicious butler. Whenever she was in Houston’s presence, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. “And?”

“In the three years I’ve been in service here, never once has his lordship attended the House for an entire session.” Ian paced before her with his hands tightly gripped behind his back. If Ian hadn’t been born into a life of servitude, he would have made a fine member of the peerage. Personable and intelligent, he possessed all the admirable qualities and none of the vile ones with which all her previous employers had been riddled.

A pair of twinkling blue eyes flashed before her and she groaned. Ian stopped in front of her and peered down at her with an all-too-knowing gaze.

To avoid the question she knew her best friend would ask, Olivia quickly said, “You have been under Houston for far too long. Constantly questioning and worrying about matters you have no influence over will only lead to headaches.”

“I wouldn’t worry so much if you could remain employed for longer than a month.” Ian grasped her by the shoulders and immediately added, “I apologize.”

She shrugged off his touch and lifted her chin. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. It is a fact that I’ve not held a position for as long as you nor improved my status as you have. However, Mrs. Glenbrook is the loveliest housekeeper I’ve worked for yet, and she believes Lady Charlotte will take kindly to me.”

“Let’s pray Mrs. Glenbrook is right.” Ian gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes but was encouraging all the same. “I shall return after supper.”

Before she could tell him not to bother, Ian had already marched out of the kitchens with his long, graceful, and near-silent steps. Hidden in the kitchens, Olivia rarely had reason to interact with her employers, which in her earlier years allowed her to remain in households far longer than she had in recent years. Now that she was fully grown, it had become a challenge to keep her full figure hidden and out of reach of men who believed that they were entitled to take liberties by right of birth.

Not one to avoid confrontation, her fiery temper often resulted in her employing her fist and being dismissed summarily. Dismissed — that was what she’d be if Cook returned before she finished with the pile of pots and pans in the sink. She whirled about and set about her task, ignoring the niggling worry Ian had planted in her mind. From all accounts from the staff, his Lordship, the Earl of Camden, and his dear countess, Lady Charlotte, were kind, fair, and a tad on the peculiar side. Since she had been referred to as “peculiar” herself, Olivia hoped that she might have finally found a home for herself.

The corners of her mouth curled ever so slightly as her thoughts were filled with the fond memory of the first person to refer to her in such manner… the younger, overly proud version of the now enigmatic Lord Guernsey. On the rare occasion she had accidentally—no, she must be honest with herself; her brief glimpses of the gentleman were no innocent coincidence, but entirely the product of her own skillful timing. Regardless, she couldn’t deny that the sight of the man, whether he was meandering down the dimly lit halls of a country estate, or when she had caught sight of him in broad daylight strolling along Bond Street, had her heart racing as it had that fateful evening a decade ago.

“There be no needin’ to scrub those until ye can see yerself in them,” Cook said over Olivia’s shoulder.

Olivia startled. Thankfully, her hands were full, or she might have turned and slugged Cook in the jaw. Blimey, she’d succumbed to her wondering thoughts. Why she had trouble banishing Lord Guernsey from her mind was beyond her understanding.