Chapter 2
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.
Cook took the pot from Olivia’s grasp, turned her by the shoulders toward the door, and gave her solid shove. “Ye’ve done enough cleaning for now. Go change so that yer presentable fer when Mrs. Glenbrook calls fer ye.”
Olivia glanced back over her shoulder. Cook’s head was shaking from side-to-side. Ugh. Why couldn’t she stop disappointing those who she wished to please the most? Olivia quickly turned back around and left the kitchens to hurry up to her room.
“Olivia.” The ever-patient Mrs. Glenbrook took Olivia’s hands in hers. “Stop fidgeting.”
“I’m afraid Lady Charlotte will not approve of me,” she confessed. In the hour since she’d left the kitchen, Ian's words had festered into worries that had her hands shaking like leaves at the end of a branch.
Mrs. Glenbrook squeezed her hands before releasing them. “Are you doubting me?” The housekeeper’s brow arched, as if she was daring Olivia to answer.
Blast the woman. It wasn’t like Olivia to back down from a challenge, and the housekeeper was using the fact against her.
“Of course not.” Her voice, thankfully, held a tinge of confidence that had been missing moments ago.
“Then I suggest we make our way to the drawing room.” Mrs. Glenbrook led the way and, as they crossed the threshold without looking back, she added, “Lady Charlotte isn’t one to keep time. However, she also doesn’t care to be kept waiting.”
“If you took bigger steps, we’d be there already.” Olivia pinched her lips together and waited to be reprimanded.
“And here I thought you needed extra time to calm your nerves.” Mrs. Glenbrook’s shoulders and tone remained even.
There was no evidence that the woman was succumbing to laughter, yet Olivia would have wagered an entire month's salary that the woman was chuckling under her breath, which made the tension in her own body dissipate and her brows unknit. Yes, Lord Camden’s staff were indeed rare and unique.
Fellow misfits, it was a wonder how Ian had quickly adapted.
Bah. Ian was a rule-follower by nature and would probably not have an issue integrating into any household, unlike her.
The susurrus of silk, a soft whisper, had Olivia lifting her chin, in time to witness Lady Charlotte embracing the housekeeper like a child who hadn’t seen their mama in quite some time.
“Oh, Glenbrook, you are a sight for sore eyes.” The countess leaned back and took in the woman from head-to-toe. “You appear rather well-rested.”
“I presume that shan’t be the case shortly, now that you have returned.”
Ignoring Mrs. Glenbrook’s reply, Lady Charlotte peered around her and caught sight of Olivia. “And who is this?”
Mrs. Glenbrook motioned for Olivia to move forward, and she obediently presented herself to the lady of the house.
“I’m Olivia, my lady.” She caught Mrs. Glenbrook’s eyes rolling up to the ceiling, and the slight shake of her head out of the corner of her eye.
Olivia sank into a deep curtsy and mumbled, “I beg your pardon, Lady Charlotte. I’m the new kitchen maid, Miss Olivia Walton. ”
Lady Charlotte’s bright pink slippers appeared before her. “Hmm, do you prefer to be called Olivia or Walton?”
The odd question had Olivia straightening and blinking at her new employer.
Was the countess trying to trick her? Voices of her previous employers uttering a slew of rather unkind names barraged her thoughts momentarily.
For once, she didn’t respond with the first words that were on the tip of her tongue.
Rather than risking her position once again, she hedged her reply.
“You may address me as you wish, my lady. Although I do appreciate being summoned by my given name over any other.”
Lady Charlotte’s beautiful smile slowly disappeared with each word Olivia uttered.
“Well, then I shall call you Miss O, until we become better acquainted.”
Lady Charlotte circled Olivia. Being of a similar height, Olivia once again found herself meeting the countess’s direct gaze. She quickly lowered her gaze to the floor.
“Do you like being in the kitchens, Miss O?”
Olivia popped her head up to answer. “Oh, yes, my lady. Cook is ever so kind and patient.”
“Ha! Cook. Kind… and p-patient?” Bent at the waist, Lady Charlotte slapped her leg and laughed. “Glenbrook, don’t tell me Miss O here has managed to transform grumpy old Cook into… into a saint?"