a rotund and jolly cook and a sour-faced housekeeper. In truth, he was not entirely convinced that the housekeeper would turn up. She had certainly not appeared to be particularly enamoured of him. He had only given the frog-eyed woman the job because she had shown a modicum of kindness to Reggie. He had a sneaking suspicion that even if she did turn up he and she would part company quite quickly.
‘I can see a house!’ exclaimed Reggie.
‘That has to be Barchester Hall, then—we should arrive any minute now.’
Ross could not quite contain his own excitement. He was going to live in a proper house for the first time in his life, and as soon as it was in a fit state he would bring his mother and sister to live there with him. He had not told them about it yet. He was looking forward to seeing the looks on their faces when they entered such a grand house.
He owed them the security and safety of a proper home, where he would be able to keep a watchful eye on them. They had not lived together as a family in years. Ross had always taken care of them, but his business had demanded his full attention and he had neglected to find them all a home until he had accidentally found himself in possession of one. Even then he had not considered actually living in it, and still would not have unless his sister had declared an interest in leaving the quaint and quiet village he had moved them to in order to spend the season in London. And his mother was happy for that to happen. He still could not believe that.
After everything that had happened—all the years when they had both done their best to keep Sarah safe—his mother was now willingly going to let her loose in London again. The place was still filled with crooks, thieves and wealthy perverts who preyed on the vulnerable. His sister was a young woman, and despite her belief that she was all grown up she would need his protection now more than ever if she was to get through the season unscathed.
She was such a pretty thing. She always had been. He would never forgive himself if she was placed in danger again. The very thought made him feel sick to his stomach.
Therefore Barchester Hall was the perfect compromise. It was close enough to London for them to visit the place freely, but far enough away to keep his family out of harm’s way. If everything went as Ross hoped it would he would finally be able to wave goodbye to the necessity of being in the city for every waking hour, and to the guilt he felt at not being around for his family to oversee their safety personally. Now there would be no more excuses. He could keep a very close eye on his sister or—more importantly—on anybody who came near her.
* * *
Hannah saw the shiny black carriage approach and assembled the small staff on the poorly maintained gravel drive, ready to meet their new master. As it came closer into view she saw his huge bodyguard, Reggie. He was smiling, with his face pressed up against the window. Two of the maids sniggered at the sight and she shot them a pointed look before the carriage came to a stop. Regardless of the peculiarity of the situation, they had no right to be so rude. Both girls coloured under her stern glare and looked down at their feet, and Hannah made a mental note to speak to them both later. Discipline had clearly been in short supply for far too long.
Reggie had the carriage door open before the tiger could get to it, and bounded out onto the drive and stared up at the house in awe.
‘Blimey, it’s big!’ he exclaimed over his shoulder, just as Jameson poked his head out of the carriage and regarded the assembled group with amusement.
Hannah ignored the rising bile in her throat as she dipped into a reluctant curtsy and then stepped forward to greet him. ‘Mr Jameson—welcome to Barchester Hall.’ She could not quite bring herself to say welcome home. It was not his home, and if she had her way it never would be.
He looked her up and down and grinned. ‘You came, then? I was not sure that you would. Especially after...’ He left the rest of the sentence hanging awkwardly.
Hannah nodded in tight acknowledgement and then introduced him to the staff she had only met herself yesterday. He greeted all six of them with surprising good cheer and did a very good job of charming them all—including Cook. But Hannah had expected no less. Swindlers had to be charming. Manipulation was their stock in trade.
When she had dismissed the servants he sidled up next to her before she could escape into the house. ‘Might I have a word, Mrs Preston?’
Hannah turned towards him and he gently took her arm and steered her away from the carriage. His big, overly familiar hand was warm, and it made her extremely conscious of their close proximity.
‘I should probably tell you about Reggie now,’ he confided in a hushed tone, a little too close to her face, ‘because he is going to take a bit of getting used to.’
When they were well out of earshot he stopped walking and faced her.
‘He’s a good-natured sort, and keen to help, but he does not have the sense that you or I take for granted. Until he gets his bearings I would appreciate it if you could keep an eye out for him. Make sure he doesn’t stray too far from the house and give him plenty of little jobs to do. Nothing that involves common sense, of course, because he certainly does not possess any—but he loves to help. Even if he is not being particularly useful I like to make him think he is. Could you also alert the rest of the staff to my wishes? Sometimes people can be cruel to people like Reggie. Let them know that I will not tolerate that in this house.’
‘Of course, sir.’ Hannah had certainly not been expecting this to be the first order that she took from her new employer. Despite his black heart he obviously had a soft spot for his poor servant. It was a great shame that he did not have the same concern for all the people whose lives he had ruined—of which she was sure there were many.
‘I am going to take Reggie for a tour of the house first—after I have fed him, of course,’ he said with a smile. ‘Perhaps we can have a chat this afternoon about my plans? I believe that we have a great deal to do, Mrs Preston.’
His po-faced housekeeper smiled tightly and then scurried off. She really was a most humourless woman, he thought as he watched her disappear back into the house. All the other servants appeared to be quite friendly, but Mrs Preston reminded him of an icicle—cold, hard and sharp. He hoped that the woman was at least good at her job; it might well be her only redeeming quality.
Well, that was not strictly true, he realised. Ross had always had a talent for spotting potential in things—especially things that were attractive in a woman. Behind the ugly glasses was quite a pretty face. With a little effort he suspected that she might scrub up quite well. There might even be a reasonable figure under that shapeless sludge-coloured dress as well. It was difficult to tell.
Her letter of application had stated that she was a widow, although she did seem a little young to be one. But he knew only too well that life could be hard, and that some people dealt with its harshness by becoming bitter. Perhaps her attitude would soften towards him in time. And, then again, perhaps not. He had not exactly made the best first impression on her. She probably saw him as a lecher—or worse. The shock on her face at the sight of Francesca reclining on his bed had been quite impressive. But in his experience people thought exactly what they wanted to—regardless.
‘Come on, Reggie,’ he called cheerfully. ‘Let me show you around.’
Several hours later Ross left Reggie washing pots happily with Cook and went off in search of his prim housekeeper. He
