CHAPTER 12
Clara was having what could charitably be called a difficult afternoon.
Watching Gabriel walking through the gardens with the lovely Miss Ashworth was torture enough, but maintaining perfect professional composure while Lady Agatha interrogated her about every aspect of the household management was pushing her to her limits.
"These accounts," Lady Agatha said, examining the ledgers with a magnifying glass "They show significant improvements in just one week."
"Yes, my lady. His Grace gave me carte blanche to make necessary improvements, and I've been implementing economies while maintaining quality."
"Economies? Gabriel doesn't know the meaning of the word."
"His Grace has been surprisingly amenable to practical suggestions that improve efficiency without sacrificing comfort."
"Amenable? Gabriel? We are talking about the same person, aren't we? Tall, scarred, generally insufferable?"
"His Grace can be occasionally challenging, but I've found that presenting logical arguments with supporting evidence tends to yield positive results."
"You mean you manage him."
"I mean I perform my duties in a way that aligns with His Grace's ultimate objectives while minimizing conflict."
"You definitely manage him…very well and someone needs to."
Clara kept her expression neutral despite the woman's probing gaze. "I am merely performing my duties, my lady."
"Your job. Yes. Tell me, Miss Whitfield, what exactly does your job entail?"
"Standard housekeeper duties. Managing staff, maintaining accounts, overseeing household operations, ensuring His Grace's comfort and the smooth running of the estate."
"Ensuring his comfort? That's quite comprehensive."
"A comfortable duke is a functional duke, my lady."
"And is he? Functional?"
"You've seen the evidence yourself. The house is clean, the staff is efficient, the accounts are balanced. I'd say that's quite functional."
"The house isn't what I'm concerned about. It's Gabriel himself. He seems... different."
Clara kept her hands steady on the ledgers. "How so? My lady?"
"Less miserable. It's suspicious."
"Perhaps His Grace is simply responding well to having his environment improved. Order can be very soothing for those dealing with... difficulties."
"Difficulties. You mean his scars? His war experience? His complete withdrawal from society?"
"I mean whatever challenges His Grace faces are his own business, and I'm simply here to ensure his household runs smoothly while he addresses them in his own time and manner."
Lady Agatha leaned back, studying Clara with uncomfortable intensity. "You're very protective of him."
"I'm protective of my employer's privacy, as any good servant should be."
"You're not just any servant though, are you? You're educated, well-spoken, clearly from a good family despite your current circumstances."
"My circumstances are my own, my lady."
"Your circumstances led you to my nephew's door in a snowstorm, which makes them my business."
"With respect, my lady, they really don't. I'm an employee performing my duties satisfactorily. My past is irrelevant to my present performance."
"Is it? Because I've done some research, Miss Whitfield. Your father was the local physician here. You grew up not far from this estate. You knew Gabriel as a child."
Clara's heart raced, but she kept her expression calm. "Many people knew His Grace as a child. It's a small county."
"But not many people used to meet him in secret gardens to graft roses."
The blood drained from Clara's face. "How did you…"
"I had a conversation with Mrs. Potter this morning. Lovely woman, very informative. She remembers you quite well."
"Mrs. Potter has an excellent memory."
"She also has excellent observational skills. She seems to believe you're good for Gabriel."
"Mrs. Potter is very kind."
"Mrs. Potter is very protective of Gabriel, has been since his mother died. If she approves of you that carries weight."
"I wasn't aware I needed approval beyond His Grace's satisfaction with my work."
"Everything in Gabriel's life requires my approval until I'm convinced he's competent to manage his own affairs."
"And what would convince you of that?"
Lady Agatha smiled, and it was terrifying. "Matrimony to someone suitable would be a start."
"Miss Ashworth seems lovely."
"Miss Ashworth is a child who'd be eaten alive by Gabriel's moods and isolation. She's here as a test, nothing more."
"A test of what?"
"Whether Gabriel can interact with eligible young ladies without sending them into fits of tears or terror."
"He seems to be doing well with her."
"He's being polite to her. There's a difference between politeness and interest."
"Perhaps politeness is enough for now?"
"Politeness doesn't produce heirs, Miss Whitfield."
Clara felt her cheeks heat. "I wouldn't presume to comment on such matters."
"No? Even though you're sharing his bed?"
The words hung in the air like a sword. Clara forced herself to maintain eye contact. "I don't know what you've been told…"
"I've been told nothing. I have eyes, Miss Whitfield. The way he looks at you, the way you carefully don't look at him, the particular tension in the air when you're in the same room…it's all rather obvious."
"You're mistaken, my lady."
"Am I? Then you won't mind if I suggest to Gabriel that he escort Miss Ashworth to the assembly next week?"
"Why would I mind? His Grace's social engagements are his own affair."
"Indeed. And you won't mind if I suggest he consider seriously courting her? Her dowry would solve all the estate's financial problems."
"The estate's financial problems are well in hand, as the ledgers demonstrate."
"Temporary improvements. The estate needs significant investment to return to its former glory."
"Perhaps His Grace doesn't want former glory. Perhaps he's content with current functionality."
"Content? Gabriel doesn't know the meaning of the word. He's been miserable since he returned from war, and frankly, I'm not convinced that hiring a few servants and cleaning some windows represents genuine improvement."
"Then what would convince you?"
"Seeing him genuinely engaged with life again. Taking interest in something beyond his own misery."
"He's taken interest in the estate improvements."
"Has he? Or has he simply allowed you to make improvements while he broods in his study?"
Clara wanted to protest, to explain how Gabriel had helped with the planning, how he'd actually laughed at dinner last night, how he'd played piano for the first time in years. But those weren't things a housekeeper should know.
"His Grace has been actively involved in all household decisions," she said carefully.
"How actively?"
"He reviews all major expenditures, approves staff decisions, and participates in planning discussions."
"Planning discussions? How exceedingly domestic."
"Professional planning discussions about household management."
"Of course. Tell me, Miss Whitfield, what will you do when your position here ends?"
"I hadn't considered that yet."
"No? A woman of your intelligence surely has plans beyond temporary employment?"
"My focus is on fulfilling my current obligations to His Grace's satisfaction."
"And when those obligations are fulfilled?"
"Then I'll seek employment elsewhere."
"Far from here?"
"Wherever opportunity takes me."
"I could assist with that, you know. I have connections throughout England. A good reference from me would open doors that might otherwise remain closed."
Clara understood the implication perfectly. Leave Gabriel alone, and Lady Agatha would help her. Stay, and face the consequences.
"That's very generous of you, my lady."
"I can be generous when it serves my purposes. I can also be quite unforgiving when crossed."
"I've no intention of crossing you, my lady."
“Very well. Then you'll understand when I say that Gabriel needs a wife of his own class, someone who can help him reclaim his position in society and produce legitimate heirs."
"I understand perfectly."
"Do you? Because from where I sit, it looks like you're allowing yourself to develop feelings for a man you can never have."
The truth of it hit Clara like a physical blow, but she maintained her composure. "I'm performing my duties as housekeeper, nothing more."
"Keep it that way, Miss Whitfield. For everyone's sake."
Before Clara could respond, Gabriel and Penelope returned from the garden, and Clara was saved from further interrogation. But she caught Gabriel's eye as he entered, and the concern she saw there nearly undid her carefully maintained composure.
After what felt like an eternity, Lady Agatha finally departed, taking the terrified but surprisingly observant Miss Ashworth with her.
The staff had been dismissed for the evening, and Clara found herself alone in the library, staring at the fire and trying not to ruminate over Lady Agatha's words.
"She's gone," Gabriel announced, entering with a bottle of brandy and two glasses. "Thank Goodness, the purple menace has retreated to terrorize some other unsuspecting household."
"You shouldn't call your aunt a purple menace, even if the description is remarkably accurate."
"I should call her much worse, but I'm restraining myself in deference to your delicate sensibilities."
"My sensibilities are hardly delicate after managing your household for a week."
"Fair point. You've seen me at my worst and haven't run screaming yet, which suggests either remarkable fortitude or questionable judgment."
"Probably both."
He handed her a glass of brandy. "You don't have to drink it, but you look like you need to at least hold something alcoholic after that interrogation."
"How did you know she was interrogating me?"
"Because that's what Aunt Agatha does. She interrogates, intimidates, and generally makes everyone around her question their life choices."
"She's very thorough."
"She's very threatened."
"By what?"
"By you, obviously."