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You are to fetch his tea and papers the same as you would any morning, you silly cow. Lillie nodded resolutely. The voice in her head was right.
The earl was not in his bedchamber when she returned with the tea cart a short while later, nor was he in his study. The parlour was empty, as was the drawing room. She slowed, sucking in a slow breath studying her hands on the polished wooden handle of the cart. When she reached the solarium doorway, she knocked like a mouse.
“Come in.” He was silent as she moved his cup and saucer from the tea tray to the table, the sugar bowl and small picture of cream, and a dainty plate heaped with an assortment of meats and cheese. He was silent, and so she was as well. “Please, sit, my dear.”
Perching at the edge of the chair opposite him, she folded her hands folded in her lap, knuckles white with tension. It was the same way she had sat before him that very first day she’d interviewed for the job. She’d been certain she bungled it then, and she was equally certain she had mucked things up now.
“My dear Lillie, this is not the way I wanted to have this conversation.”
Her face was a frozen mask, prim and empty, her tongue pushing into the roof of her mouth with all her might, staving back the tears she was worried might fall if he sacked her here on the spot.
“There’s nothing more I dislike in this world than perceivement,” he rumbled, dropping half a sugar lump into his tea. “I abhor the thought of winding up in that wretched paper. I’ve seen the way they’ve hounded my friend, the viscount. No one bloody knows what happened between him and his former wife, yet half of Londontown acts as if they were sitting in the bedroom beside them.” He shook his head again. “I’ve had enough of it. Doing my duty to my station was easy when the boys were young. I never needed to come to London. I’ve never even liked London in the first place. I’ll be glad to put it behind me.”
“My Lord?” She raised her head for the first time, meeting his eye, immediately regretting having done so. Slate gray and soft, like the wings of a dove, sparking with warmth. She wanted to bury her face to his neck and inhale, wanted to smell the vanilla pipe smoke clinging to his jacket, wanted him to tell her that they could simply forget the previous day and evening and go back to the way things used to be. Upstairs and downstairs, each knowing their place.
“I’m afraid I’ve not been completely truthful with you. With any of you. Gerrold is, at the moment, interviewing staff. A new cook who will train here with Dorcas for several weeks. A man-servant of Gerrold’s equal, which is what I’m sure he’ll take the bloody longest to do. We don’t need to worry about stable men and groundskeepers; there are plenty of lads in the village who would jump at the opportunity to be footmen. Same thing for the indoors. Plenty of young girls to be chambermaids and in the scullery. A cook, my valet, and a housekeeper. Those are the most important roles, and that is what he is filling.”
Her face heated. She had no idea what he was talking about. “I-I’m afraid I don’t understand, my—”
“I’m leaving London, Lillie. I’ll be glad to put it behind me. My son will be taking over my duties here, and he and his family will be moving into the house. Gerrold and Dorcas will be staying on here with him. The new staff will be going back to the manor with me.”
He had made no mention of her. She nodded. Don’t cry, old girl. You were going to leave when he remarries anyway. Best to get on with it.
“Very good, sir. If you excuse me, my Lord, I should get back to work.” She pushed up from her chair before he had the chance to instruct otherwise. “I’ll see that everything is in order before Gerrold returns.”
“Aren’t you the least bit interested in entertaining my plan for you, my dear?”
“It’s not my place to ask questions, my Lord.”
“For pity’s sake, sit down. It’s my hope that you will return to the manor with me. This isn’t the way I intended to ask you. I had planned on...well, hadn’t planned on yesterday at all. I don’t regret it, but I do wish I hadn’t pressed my advantage against you in such a way, my dear. I hope you can forgive me. This wasn’t the way I wanted to have this conversation. I don’t actually know how I wanted to have this conversation, but I do know it wasn’t like this. I want you to return to Chwyllenghd with me.”
“Am I to be the housekeeper at the manor, my Lord?”
“I’d like you to return with me,” he went on, ignoring her as if she hadn’t spoken, “as my mistress. I don’t ever want to find my name in the bloody High Tea. I’m sorry to have to ask you to leave your life behind, leave the friends you’ve made here behind, but I’ve given this a great deal of thought, and a staff that knows neither of us is the only way I can foresee it working.”
Lillie gaped, too shocked to speak. She’d expected him to turn her out, expected him to be cruel and cutting, or at the very least cold. Sullen, stern, and saturnine. The lengths he had gone through to concoct this plan and put it in motion...She floundered, feeling unsteady on her feet, reaching back for her chair and nearly missing it. Lord Ellingboe was half out of his seat, reaching across the small tea table to steady her with a look of concern.
“Your—your mistress? But what about the Monsters Ball?”
A scrape of laughter, flint on steel. “I never had any intention of attending that silly thing. As I said—I don’t ever want to find my name in that gossip paper. And besides, there would be no sense in attending. You see, orcs, when we marry, it is a life bond. I loved my Gretna very much, and I would never tarnish our vows by throwing them away just because she’s gone. I wouldn’t do that to her memory, and my sons would never forgive me. There will be no remarriage for me, I’m afraid. But that doesn’t mean I can’t take a companion, a partner, someone with whom to share the rest of these dreary days, and to enjoy the ones that aren’t so dreary.”
She was horrified to realize that tears were streaming down her face. He wanted a partner, and he had chosen...her. The help. Someone completely beneath him in every way. The downstairs. The people closest to us, his voice whispered in her ear, a memory that prickled at her skin. “Then why did you lead me to believe you were attending the ball?”
Lord Ellingboe’s lips twitched, and his eyes sparkled like the sun upon the grey northern waters.
“To be honest, I liked the way it seemed to wind you up. You are an absolute spitfire when you’re angry, Miss Prichard. I didn’t mind that anger being directed at me, not one bit.”
Her mouth hung open, flummoxed. Outraged laughter started deep within her, shaking her shoulders as it forced its way out, and she slapped her hand down on the table, making his cup rattle on the saucer. “You are a wretched man! The absolute brazen audacity of-of...”
“Is that a yes, my dear?”
She didn’t know how this was to work, didn’t know how she was meant to pretend she was anything but what she was...And that was the point of all his machinations, she realized. She wouldn’t have to pretend anything. “Are you quite sure, my Lord? I hope you have given it sufficient thought. I won’t appreciate being dumped on the side of the road on some Welsh cliffside. You’re an Earl. I’m a housekeeper.”
He shrugged, stretching his hand across the table, closing the short distance between them to enfold his hand in hers. “I assure you, my dear Lillie, I’ve given it a great deal of thought for quite a long time. Orcs are not like other men. We know the value of labor and service. My name is Efraim, and that’s what I’d like you to call me. And besides, what’s the difference between us?”
She was no great beauty and was a comfortable spinster, the help, chapped cheeks and a dingy coat, downstairs all her life...But he was right, she decided. Why shouldn’t they be happy together? She shrugged, smiling through tears as she leaned forward, anticipating the moment when her face would be nestled between his great tusks, capturing her lips.
“Nothing but a staircase, my Lord.”
