Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Acceptance letters arrived nearly daily, much to Mia’s chagrin. While she’d never said as much to her father, she’d hoped no one would accept the invitation to this ill-conceived house party.
She dropped her hand onto her chin.
She knew any chance of canceling the party was lost. Her father’s excitement made it difficult for her to voice anything but amiability whenever the dratted thing was mentioned. Every decline they had received—which was only four by Mia’s count—saw her father’s disappointment. She felt caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. If her wish were granted, her father’s wish would not be, and that would put him in the doldrums. She could not hope for that. Even if it meant her own misery.
She sat with Mrs. Pierson, planning the menus for the party. It was times such as these that she missed her mother—or rather, her mother’s efficiency. Lady Minton had not been a nurturing woman, but she knew her place—indeed, she had relished it—as mistress of Hedlund Hall and Countess of Minton, and she had trained her daughter in all the particulars.
But proper training did not equate to enjoyment. Mia hated sitting there, deciding what they would eat for every meal. Then there were the room assignments. She put her hand to her temple, rubbing slow circles, hoping to staunch the headache pounding behind her eyes. She would rather do most anything besides that. Even stitchery seemed more enticing. Ugh.
“My lady, are you listening to me?” Mrs. Pierson’s irritated voice penetrated the throbbing in her head.
“No. Actually, I am not. Can we not stop for a time and give my headache a chance to subside?”
Mrs. Pierson exhaled loudly. “You said that yesterday and the day before that. Guests will arrive in only a few days, my lady, and still we have not decided which rooms they will occupy. Not to mention all the food cook needs to purchase. I am concerned we are already too late putting in our orders, especially for the dinner on the night of the ball.”
Mia waved her hand in front of her. “But we have been over this repeatedly. I do not care if Lord Grenville and Lady Cornfeld sit next to each other at supper. Nor do I care who stays in the Scarlet room as opposed to the Peacock room. What, I ask you, does it matter as long as they have a place to sleep and food to eat?” She threw her hands up in frustration.
Mrs. Pierson sucked in a breath and muttered. “Lady Minton would never—” She bit off the end of the sentence.
Mia narrowed her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek. If it were anyone but Mrs. Pierson, Mia would have them sacked for speaking so freely.
She huffed out a breath and closed her eyes. She knew there was a reason for it all—so that pompous nobles could show their superiority to those they deemed beneath them. Her mother had made certain Mia knew the proper etiquette concerning those of rank. ‘After all, we are those people who others look up to and admire.’ Her mother never forgot to remind her of that.
Mia grunted. She could not imagine what there had been to admire in her mother, other than her impeccable hosting skills.
“Can you not finish this, Mrs. Pierson? Please?” Mia softened her tone, begging the housekeeper.
“I am capable, yes. But it is your duty, my lady. Your mother?—”
“I know. My mother would not approve. But she is not here, so we need not concern ourselves with her displeasure.” Mia stood and smoothed the front of her gown. “I must check the post to see if any other acceptance letters have arrived. There is no sense in making room assignments until we know everyone who will attend.” She tipped her head to the side and smiled at the housekeeper before hurrying from the room. If she lingered, Mrs. Pierson would surely change her mind and call Mia back. That was a risk she was not willing to take. “Thank you, Mrs. Pierson,” she called over her shoulder as she rounded the doorframe into the corridor.
Mia grinned, imagining the older woman grumbling.
She slowed her steps and glanced back toward the room. A seed of guilt planted itself inside her stomach. It was unkind to leave Mrs. Pierson with such an arduous task. But as a housekeeper, did she not oversee such tasks daily?
“Ooph.” Mia stumbled backward, her arms flailing out around her, trying to keep her upright.
“Mia?”
Her eyes locked with Ben’s as his arms came around her, pulling her tightly to him and stopping her impending tumble backwards.
Her breath caught in her throat as her hands came up and rested on his chest, his muscles tightening beneath her touch. Her brow creased. When had this muscular form replaced the lanky one that had been beneath Ben’s waistcoat?
Her cheeks heated, and she pushed the thought aside. It was certainly something to ponder on. Just not at that moment.
“Are you hurt?” He asked.
She shook her head, unable to speak as all the air fled from her lungs.
His brow creased between his eyes, the sure sign of concern. He held her a moment longer, but then his hold loosened. His arms fell away completely, along with the flutter in her stomach.
His added strength left also, leaving her knees slightly unsteady.
“Are you certain you are well? I still have not heard you speak. You have not even yelled at me.” He gave her an exaggerated wide-eyed look. He gripped her upper arms firmly but not roughly, holding her an arm’s length away from him and studying her closely. “It is the lack of yelling that has me most concerned.”
She pulled away from him and smirked. “You speak as if all I ever do is yell at you. What would people think of me if they heard you talk?” A pert smile stole across her face. “Do you wish me to yell at you, Ben? I can accommodate you if that is what you desire.”
His shoulders relaxed, as did the crease between his eyes. “No. You had me worried, is all.” He released his grip on her arms and took a step back. “What were you running away from anyhow?”
“I wasn’t running.” She twisted her fingertip but then lifted her chin and hit him lightly on the arm. “Why were you not watching where you were going?”
“Ah, that’s more like it.” He grinned at her, and her heart ticked up a beat. “Me? It was you who was walking with your head turned.”
“Yes, well, if you were watching enough to see that, why did you not move out of my way?” Yes, that sounded logical enough. He should have stepped aside when he saw she was not looking.
He chuckled softly. “I suppose you are right. This was all my fault.”
She did not even bother to hide her smile. He had always been very good at taking the blame for things. She really should stop letting him do it. But he seemed to enjoy it, so why change things?
“When did you arrive, Ben?”
He turned and stood beside her, his arm extended for her to take.
She curved her hand around the crook of his arm and allowed him to lead her down the corridor.
“Only just. Francis told me you were in the sitting room with Mrs. Pierson planning menus.” He waggled his brows. “Your favorite thing to do, is it not? Tell me, Mia, how many menus did you actually plan before you cried off and begged Mrs. Pierson to finish it?”
She swatted him again. “Really, Ben? Do you think me incapable of the simple task of planning menus?” She avoided his gaze, knowing he would see the lie in hers if she let him.
“You deftly avoided the question, my dear. Am I to assume there were menus planned then?”
Mia released an irritated sigh. He was always insufferable when he caught her telling a Banbury tale. “I will have you know I planned the better part of six meals.” She raised a brow, challenging him to mock her. “What do you have to say to that, my lord?”
“Six whole meals? You must be fatigued, indeed. Perhaps I should carry you to the settee and ring for tea to help revive you.”
She pulled him to a stop and stomped her foot. “It was very taxing and gave me quite a headache. Now stop teasing me else I shall send you away without even a taste of Mrs. Handley’s pound cake. She made a fresh one this morning.”
“Ah, a threat if ever I heard one.”
He guided her into the drawing room and deposited her on the sofa near the fireplace. But instead of sitting next to her, he sat in the chair on the opposite side of the low table—a slightly vexing turn of events. The smile did not completely fall away but a hint of seriousness tempered it. “Mia, you must stop crying off for such tasks. You say you wish to remain here and be mistress of Hedlund Hall, yet you refuse to perform the tasks required of that position. At every opportunity, you pass the chore onto Mrs. Pierson. How do you expect to convince your father that you are capable of independence if you refuse to do even the simplest of tasks?”
“If you had ever planned menus, you would not pass them off as ‘simple’,” she shot back at him. But at his look, she licked her lips. Her throat dry and tightened.
He was right again, and it made her angry. She hated it when he was right. It made him so smug and self-righteous.
“But Mrs. Pierson is willing and much better at it than I.” The excuse was weak and she knew it. While she hated the mundane chores, that excuse would not help her in her cause. And it didn’t matter if she saw no use for them. They were expected among those who would be her guests. And she did not wish to embarrass her father by her lack of proficiency as a hostess.
“Mrs. Pierson will not be around forever, Mia. I would wager she is older than your father. What will you do when she is gone?”
“I know how to do it, Ben.” Mia sulked. “I just do not like to do it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “There is a difference.”
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “If you wish to remain here and take care of your father, you must do all the tasks, Mia. Even those you dislike.”
She groaned like the child he was professing her to be. “Very well.” She stood and moved toward the doorway.
“Where are you going?” Ben called after her.
“To plan menus and make room assignments with Mrs. Pierson.” She called over her shoulder exasperatedly.
“But I have just come. Can that not wait?”
She stopped and turned around, her mouth open. “You lecture me on my duties and then whine like a child when I abandon you. Which do you prefer me to do, my lord? Fulfill my duties or entertain you?”
He grinned like a little boy. “I had rather hoped you could do both.”
She nodded once. “Very well.”
He looked at her suspiciously. “Very well? How can you do both things at once?”
She smiled at him, but it looked slightly wicked. “Come along, Ben. I am certain Mrs. Pierson has other things to attend to. She will welcome you replacing her.”
Ben’s mouth dropped open, and Mia put her hand up to cover her grin.
“That was not what I had in mind,” he grumped.
“We shall plan the menus together. I shall entertain you with my vast knowledge of food and room assigning abilities.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “This I must see.”
Mia rolled her eyes. “You are ridiculous, Ben.”
“Yes, and so are you.” He caught her gaze and winked at her. He’d done that several weeks ago. It was something new, and she was uncertain what it meant. From any other man, she might consider it a flirtation. But it was Ben. Ben did not flirt with her. Not that she hadn’t desired it. However, just because she desired something did not mean she got what she wanted—as this house party could attest.
There had been a time when she thought she might wish to marry him. But that was when she was a silly girl with misguided notions of love and marriage. She’d since grown up and realized the error of her thinking.
“Let’s get this over with.” Ben motioned her into the great hall. “I had better things planned for my day.”
Mia walked beside him. “Oh, pray tell?”
“I was to go for a ride.”
“But it is too cold. It snowed last night, did it not?” She clasped her hands in front of her. “It sounds like a treacherous plan.”
“It did snow, but it has since melted.”
“But it must surely still be a muddy mess. You should thank me for saving you from it.”
They entered the West sitting room, and just as she expected, Mrs. Pierson’s head was bent over the paper in front of her. She looked up at the sound of their footsteps.
“Mrs. Pierson, Lord Berwick has come to your aid. He lectured me so thoroughly that I beg your forgiveness and will resume planning for the party.”
Mrs. Pierson looked relieved and pushed the paper and ink across the table.
Mia picked up the quill. “He has also agreed to help me with the planning, so you are free to see to your other tasks.” Mia smiled widely—if a little wickedly—at Ben.
“But my lady,” Mrs. Pierson looked around. “There is no one here to…I shall stay.”
Mia snorted and smacked Ben in the arm.
Mrs. Pierson’s lips pressed tightly together.
“It’s Lord Berwick, Mrs. Pierson.” Mia said. “He’s like a brother to me. You would not stay here if Lawrence were with me.” She made a shooing motion with her hands.
Mrs. Pierson looked between the two of them, her jaw working.
“My father would agree, would he not, my lord?”
The wrinkle between Ben’s eyes was back, but he nodded his head. “Most certainly.”
“There, you see? Now, run along and do all those things you told me you were neglecting earlier.”
Mrs. Pierson did not look convinced. But she stood and moved away from the table. “Very well, my lady. I shall leave the door open and check back frequently—” Her gaze darted rapidly between Mia and Ben. “ In case you are in need of me.”
Mia plunked down on the chair and sighed. “You are too good, Mrs. Pierson.”
The housekeeper stared a moment longer before she turned and made her way toward the door.
Ben raised a brow but dropped into the seat the older woman had just vacated. “You vex her greatly, Mia.”
She shrugged. “As she does me. I suppose it makes us even.”
Ben pulled the stack of papers toward him. “Hmm. What have you decided upon?”
Mia grabbed the papers back and stared down at them. “It looks as if Mrs. Pierson finished the menus without me.” She raised a satisfied brow. It seemed to have worked out in the end. Mrs. Pierson worked at least three times faster without Mia’s help. She grinned to herself and raised her chin defiantly. She had done the woman a favor, after all. “We shall not worry about that. I have full confidence in her abilities.”
Ben looked at her blandly. “And you say I am the ridiculous one?” He shook his head at her. “Do not look at me with such smugness. You have not won here. Mrs. Pierson completing the task before you returned does not make it acceptable that you forced it upon her to begin with.” He leveled a stare at her. “Nor does it show you are ready for the responsibility.”
She huffed. “There is nothing to do for it now. I’m not going to re-plan the menus, Ben. That would be a waste of time.” She pushed another paper into the space between them. “Let us take on the room assignments, shall we?”
Ben swept his hand toward the papers in a grand gesture. “If we must.”
Mia placed the feather quill to her lips. “Where shall we place Lord Grenville?”
“As far away as possible?” Ben squinted at the paper and grinned. “Perhaps he would like the Peacock room?”
Mia chuffed out a laugh, covering her mouth with her hands. “The Peacock room overlooks the stables. Can you imagine the look on Lord Grenville’s face?”
Ben continued to chuckle. “It might almost be worth doing it, would it not?”
Mia sighed. If only she could do such things. But it would surely make her father unhappy. That thought dampened her enthusiasm. “I should not have invited you. You are nothing but a distraction and a bad influence.”
Ben sat up straighter and took on a very serious face. “My apologies, my lady.” He pointed to Lord Grenville’s name. “Perhaps we should place him in the Las Meninas room.”
Mia shook her head. “But that is the room I reserved for you.” Her mouth quirked up. “After all, you outrank Lord Grenville. Should you not get the best room?”
Ben tilted his head. “I live less than two miles away. I do not need a room. I shall retire to Tweed at the end of each evening.”
Mia raised a brow. “But what if it should snow and the roads become impassable?”
Ben leaned forward. “Then I shall walk.”
“But what of your mother? You would not make her walk in such weather, would you?”
“My mother will be in York, visiting her sister. You need not worry about her.” Challenge twinkled in Ben’s eyes.
Mia blinked rapidly three times but said nothing.
“Why would I stay here when I live so close? There are not enough rooms for the gents and those your father invited. My friends and I shall stay at Tweed and travel between the two houses for the activities. Besides, there are several activities that will be better suited at Tweed. It will be more convenient if I’m there to oversee their setup.”
He was not to stay at Hedlund? Would he make her wait each morning until he’d eaten his breakfast before he came to save her from the hordes of strangers? “You promised to entertain me. How can you do that if you are staying at Tweed?”
Mia didn’t know why she was being so insistent. He was right. It was preposterous for him to take a room at Hedlund. But she wanted him to stay—needed him to stay. He was the only thing that would keep her sane.
She looked at him harder. “Please, Ben?” She was not above begging. At least not for that.
He grunted and put his hand on hers. Tingles danced up her fingers and into her arm. “It is better this way, Mia. I promise. I will be here before you awaken each day. You will not even know I’m staying at Tweed.” He pointed to the paper. “Perhaps you should assign Lord Grenville to the Whistlejacket room.”
She gave him one last hard stare before looking down at the paper. “Yes, the Whistlejacket is still a fine room.” Mia made a note next to the earl’s name. She glanced up and caught Ben’s eye. “You promise, Ben?”
He nodded. “I promise.” The grin returned to his face. Ben never stayed irritated or mad for long. It was one thing Mia loved about him.