Page 6 of A Cinderella to Redeem the Earl

‘Yes, of course,’ he murmured. ‘The cook.’

Her face heated. ‘You have me at a disadvantage, Mr...’

He beamed winsomely. ‘I am Phillippe. My friends call me, Pip. But then I only have one friend.’

She did not trust that charming smile for one moment. This was the Monsieur Phillippe Dart had spoken of the previous evening. ‘Do you know where His Lordship is?’

‘Bien sur,’Monsieur Phillippe said.

‘Would you care to share the information?’ she said coldly.

‘So haughty a cook. Interesting.’ He gestured to the other corridor. ‘You will find him in his study.’ He frowned. ‘Do you offer breakfast, or should I help myself as usual?’

Something about this young man annoyed her. ‘You will find bread and cheese and fruit laid out in the servants’ hall. I was not asked to provide a hot meal until this evening.’

He nodded and walked off whistling. Very annoying indeed. And if he was responsible for the mess she had just cleaned up—he’d clearly stated he had been helping himself to her kitchen—she wanted to get back to her domain as soon as possible to keep an eye on him.

She hurried down the corridor. The set of large, ornately carved double doors she came to first did not look as though they would lead to a study, but she opened them anyway.

She gasped at the sight of gilt and glass and tastefully arranged tables arrayed around the rooms. It was one of the most sumptuous rooms she had ever seen in her life.

Nothing like the shambles in the other wing.

It looked as though it was set for a ball or a rout. Or a card party, perhaps, but on a very grand scale.

She backed out and continued along the corridor. Further along, a door lay ajar. Perhaps this was where she would find the elusive Lord Dart.

She pushed the door open and there he was, seated at a desk, wearing a pair of spectacles on the end of his aristocratic nose. He wore a tweed coat and belcher handkerchief at his throat. The uniform of a gentleman farmer. And he wore it with impeccable style.

By comparison, she felt suddenly dowdy.

As was right. After all, he was an earl and she merely a cook.

The room, however, was nothing like the luxurious ballroom. The furniture had seen better days and the air had a stale smell.

He looked up upon her entry, removed his spectacles and pushed to his feet.

That she had not expected. Courtesy to the lower orders was rarely observed in her experience.

She dipped a curtsy. ‘You said we should discuss the terms of my employment this morning.’

‘I did. You found everything to your satisfaction with your new quarters?’

Startled, she stared at him. Most of the employers she had come across since leaving home hadn’t cared a farthing whether she found her quarters, let alone if she found them satisfactory. ‘They are perfectly adequate.’

They had, in fact, been deliciously cosy and the bed had been so comfortable she had drifted to sleep in an instant.

He indicated a chair in front of the desk. ‘Please, be seated.’

She hesitated. Then took the chair offered.

‘You have the contract for me to sign?’ he asked.

She laid the sheaf of papers on the desk. ‘The agency contract.’

He perused the paper. ‘All seems in order.’

He didn’t even blink at the ten pounds per week the agency had proposed and she had wondered if he might argue about it, as had happened before when an employer discovered her youth.