Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
“ O h dear me,” Mrs. Pettigrew said, turning to Abigail. “I seem to have forgotten to tell Mr. Bailey something. Be a dear and run to the Harringtons’ and give him a note for me, will you? I want him to run an errand once he escapes Rebecca. I mean her tea.” Mrs. Pettigrew gave Abigail a sly smile, then went to the desk and scribbled something down on a piece of paper. She returned to where Abigail stood next to the tea cart and handed her the note.
“Hurry along now, ma petite .”
Abigail took the note, bobbed a curtsy, and hurried to the closet where she kept her coat, gloves, and hat. She wasn’t sure how much of a hurry Mrs. Pettigrew might be in, so she didn’t bother with the hat and gloves. Instead, she slipped on her coat and was out the door.
As the Harringtons only lived a couple of blocks away, it didn’t take long for Abigail to reach the house. She stood before the front door and drew in a deep breath. “That Rebecca had better not make any snide comments to me.”
She took another deep breath, the note in hand, and rang the doorbell. It didn’t take long for the Harringtons’ butler, Caldwell, to answer. “Abigail, what brings you here?” he asked.
“I have a note for Mr. Bailey from Mrs. Pettigrew. If it’s not too much to ask, could you give it to him?”
The butler glanced over his shoulder. Abigail could hear voices from inside the house. Lots of voices. Good heavens, what was going on in there?Hadn’t Rebecca invited Mrs. Pettigrew and Mr. Bailey to an intimate tea?
Caldwell gave his attention back to her. “Perhaps you ought to deliver it yourself and break up the…um, well…”
Abigail’s eyes widened. “Caldwell, are you telling me that Mr. Bailey is in a state of, shall we say, distress?”
The old butler shrugged. “Not exactly. You see, Miss Harrington invited a publisher to her tea party. You know how she is, not that I gossip about such things, but it seems she’s trying to get her hooks into Mrs. Pettigrew’s new assistant.”
Abigail’s eyes narrowed. “You seem to know an awful lot about what goes on in my household. Did you know he was her assistant?”
Caldwell straightened. “None of us can help but hear when Miss Harrington blathers on.”
Abigail had to stifle a giggle. That much was true.
“Very well. I’ll deliver it myself.”
The old butler stepped aside to let her in, and she marched across the grand foyer toward the voices. Everyone was in the Harringtons’ main drawing room, and she immediately spied Ewart. Rebecca had her arm wrapped around one of his as he spoke to a tall, thin, middle-aged gentleman. There were several other men too, but Abigail wasn’t interested in them. She was more interested in the way Rebecca practically hung off Mr. Bailey’s arm. The tart.
“What do you want?” a woman asked, catching her attention.
Abigail turned to face Mrs. Harrington. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but I’ve brought a note from Mrs. Pettigrew for Mr. Bailey over there. I’ll just deliver it, shall I?”
Before Mrs. Harrington could say a word, Abigail was weaving her way through the throng of guests to get to Mr. Bailey. When she finally reached him, Rebecca narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing here?” she snapped.
Abigail gritted her teeth and bobbed a curtsy. “I’m delivering a message, Mr. Bailey.” She faced him. “It’s from Mrs. Pettigrew.”
His eyebrow shot up. “Oh?” he said. “Give it to me, Abigail.”
She handed him the note, and he opened it and read it. “Seems she wants me to run an errand for her when I’m done here. That’s no problem, I can do that.”
“Are you a guest of Mrs. Pettigrew’s?” a gentlemen near him asked.
“Actually, I’m her new assistant,” Ewart said, with a hint of pride.
Abigail tried not to laugh. Rebecca looked about to bust a gut. “What he means is,” Rebecca tittered, “is that he’s staying with Mrs. Pettigrew, acting as her assistant. It’s all part of his tour of America, to see how we live and work.”
Mr. Bailey looked at Rebecca and tried to extract his arm from her vice-like grip. “Not at all, Miss Harrington. I took the job to earn some money to continue my journey, but I find that I may stay here in Denver a while.”
Abigail watched him try to get his arm out of Rebecca’s hold, but to no avail. He cleared his throat, and she took the hint, letting go. “Abigail,” he said, “tell Mrs. Pettigrew I’ll take care of this. I have enough money on me to pick up the things she wants.”
Abigail bobbed a curtsy. “I will, Mr. Bailey. And you know she’ll reimburse you.”
“Of course,” he said with a smile. “Would you like a cup of tea before you go?”
Rebecca’s jaw dropped. “What? Are you asking a servant to have tea with you?”
Abigail noted the red creeping into Rebecca’s cheeks and the tightness of her jaw. This wasn’t going to be pretty. “That’s nice of you to offer, Mr. Bailey,” she said, “but I’d best be getting back to the mansion.”
“Yes, and back to your duties as a housemaid ,” Rebecca said pointedly.
Abigail bobbed another curtsy and turned to leave.
“Abigail, wait.”
She turned as Mr. Bailey spoke to the tall, thin gentleman. They shook hands, and he started after her. “Mr. Bailey,” she said when he joined her, “you don’t need to leave. Or did you want something else?” She wished her racing heart would stop pounding so hard. It was making it hard to concentrate.
He smiled at her. “Abigail, I was going to ask if you want to come with me. I’d very much like to get out of here,” he said in a low voice.
“Oh.” She glanced at Rebecca, who surprisingly remained where she was, though she didn’t look happy in the least. “Well, if you’d like me to. But what will we tell Mrs. Pettigrew? She’ll be expecting me back at the mansion.”
“We’ll go to the mansion first, let her know, and then you can accompany me to town.”
“But I really do have a few things I need to get done,” she said.
He gave her a warm smile. “I’d be happy to help you with them later. Will that work for you?”
She noted the softness in his voice and the smile in his eyes. “Oh, I…um, yes. That works for me.”
“Good,” he said with a grin. He turned toward Rebecca. “Miss Harrington, I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave. This errand may take some time, and I want to get it done as soon as possible. You understand?”
Rebecca went rigid. “Of course, Mr. Bailey. Go do whatever you need to. But rest assured I’ll see you tomorrow to discuss how I’m to help with Mrs. Pettigrew’s ball.”
Mr. Bailey gave her a nod, then turned to Abigail. “Let’s get out of here,” he said in a low voice.
She nodded, and they were off. As soon as they were outside, he turned to her. “Thank you, Abigail. You’re a lifesaver.” He glanced at the door behind them, then back. “That woman…”
Abigail giggled. “I see yer finally getting a good picture of what Miss Harrington is made of. She can be quite a handful, not to mention a menace.”
He shuddered. “You said it. She gripped me like she was sinking or falling or… or…”
Abigail held up a hand. “Ye needn’t say anything more. We all know what she’s like. And let me tell ye, that woman has caused her fair share of trouble over the last few months.”
He nodded, and they started walking back to Mrs. Pettigrew’s mansion. When they arrived and told Mrs. Pettigrew their plans, they were surprised when she handed them some extra money. “Go grab yourselves a pastry and some coffee,” she said with a wink. “And take your time.”
Once they were outside again, Mr. Bailey offered Abigail his arm. “Well, it seems we have a little time to ourselves during this errand.”
Abigail’s cheeks heated. “But my chores...”
“They can wait. Adelia’s errands can’t. And there’s nothing wrong with us taking a little break while doing them. I’ll help you with the chores when we return.”
She glanced at his arm, then down at her maid’s uniform. “Let me button my coat first.” She didn’t want anyone to know she was a maid. The problem was, a lot of shopkeepers and store owners already knew. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy being on the arm of a handsome man as they strolled down the street.
As soon as she had her coat buttoned, she slipped her arm through his, and they were off.
“So, Abigail,” he said, “tell me a little about yourself.”
She sucked in a breath. “I already told ye a few things.”
He smiled down at her. “Yes, about your homeland. All I know so far is that you like to read. We both enjoy books and read them when we have trouble sleeping. And let’s see what else… You’re Irish, you have red hair, blue eyes, a smattering of freckles across your nose…” He paused and winked at her.
She sucked in a breath at his admission. Good heavens, was he flirting with her? She’d never had a man flirt with her. Well, not a man above her station like he was. He wasn’t just a fellow employee. This man was landed gentry. The son of a baron.
“Oh,” she said slowly, “do ye like red hair, then?”
He laughed. “Don’t let me make you nervous. And yes, I do admire red hair. I find it rather fetching.”
“Really?”
He smiled, patted her hand, and they continued walking. Both were quiet for a while, until they were only a couple of blocks from the business district. “I’m sorry if my comments upset you,” he said.
She looked at him and shook her head. “It’s not that they upset me, Mr. Bailey. I’m just nay used to compliments, I suppose.”
“Really?” He looked down at her with a frown. “I would think a woman with your looks would be used to plenty of compliments.”
“Ha,” she said. “I’ve had men yell things at me and say things of course. But they’re not the kind of compliments a lady wants. Or, in my case, what a woman wants.”
“Are you saying you’re not a lady?” he asked softly.
“I’m a maid, Mr. Bailey. That does not make me…” She hesitated, then sighed in frustration. “Of course I’m a lady. But I’m no Mrs. Pettigrew. And I’m not like you.” There. She said it. The man had to realize the difference in their stations. And he’d said it himself—he fancied redheads. That didn’t mean he had any sort of attraction toher, other than her hair. She was a maid. He was landed gentry. She had to keep remembering that. And if she had to remindhim, she would.
They entered the business district and went to the bookshop to place Mrs. Pettigrew’s order for some books, then to the print shop to check on the wedding invitations. Mrs. Pettigrew also wanted them to get her a pastry, so that was their next stop.
Abigail decided she had to stop pretending that a man like Mr. Bailey would have any real interest in her whatsoever. So, when he offered his arm after they left the print shop, she held her head high, stuck her hands in her pockets, and started walking.