Page 5

He hadn’t set out to charm Georgie Manning.

For one thing, she was too young. For another, he couldn’t see any benefit in it, and he was always alert to what would benefit him.

He also hadn’t charmed Norah Manning, but he knew if he had the faintest desire to do so, he could change her mind about him.

He’d sooner push her into a rubbish heap.

He’d met other women like her, bedded them, and they were a tedious lot.

It was a good thing he didn’t need much sleep.

By the time he’d bathed and shaved and secured the proper clothes, it was close to six in the morning, and the Manning household would be awake and at work.

He let himself in the servants’ entrance to the old house, landing him in the kitchen, and he looked around him with interest. Bread was rising on the cookstove, and he could smell Earl Grey tea with its thick bergamot scent overriding kippers and bacon.

“Who the hell are you?” the woman by the table demanded, fixing him with a steely stare. She was in her fifties, plump and immaculate, and she was glaring at him as if he was a rat who dared invade her territory. The fearsome Bertha, no doubt.

“I’m Rafferty, the new butler.”

“You are not,” she shot back. “This household hasn’t paid a servant in over a month. If you take my advice, you’ll turn around and walk straight back out of here.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. Miss Georgiana hired me, and I promised I’d be here.”

“Miss Georgie,” Bertha said with a dismissive sniff. “She’s as crazy as the rest of them, and what’s she got to do with hiring a butler? That’s her father’s business, and he knows far too well that no one but a fool would agree to work for him.”

“Then I’m a fool,” he said easily. “You’re Bertha.”

Her gimlet eyes narrowed. “What did they tell you about me?”

“That you’d put the fear of God into me,” he replied.

That surprised a bark of laughter from her. “Well, they told you true, at least.” She looked him up and down. “You don’t look like a butler.”

He glanced down at his immaculate black suit. “Why not?”

“Too big for one. Too handsome. What kind of experience have you?”

“None.”

“Well, that sounds about right,” Bertha said with a sigh. “Sir Elston’s awake by now—you may as well start by bringing his tea up to him. He lost his valet two weeks ago—are you any good at shaving?”

He touched his bare chin. “I’ve done it a few times.”

“Good. You take care of Sir Elston and I’ll take care of the ladies. Wouldn’t want you to go traipsing around in their bedrooms anyway, though Miss Norah would likely bite your head off. Go on with you now.”

“Who the hell are you?” Sir Elston Manning demanded as Rafferty let himself into the suite of bedrooms at the top of the stairs, and he stifled a grin.

“I’m Rafferty, sir,” he said, setting the tea tray down on the small table by the bed. “Your new butler.”

Sir Elston glared at him from under bushy eyebrows. He was a short man of impressive bulk, and he appeared less than thrilled with the new member of his household. “Who hired you?”

“Your daughter, sir.”

“Norah?” he said, aghast.

“No, Miss Georgiana.”

“What the hell was she thinking, hiring a butler we can’t afford?”

“She knew I was in need of gainful occupation and she thought I might do.”

“There’ll be no gains from this household,” Sir Elston said frankly. “We’re on the rocks.”

“A roof over my head and three meals a day is recompense enough for the time being. Once your fortunes rebound, you can pay me my back wages.”

Manning’s laugh was a harsh, grating sound. “You have more faith in my future than I do. What are your qualifications?”

“I believe I can carry out my duties to your satisfaction,” Rafferty said smoothly. “Would you like me to shave you?”

There was no lessening of suspicion in Sir Elston’s beady eyes, but he sighed. “Just don’t cut my throat. If you’re going to steal the silver, then do it. It’s no good to me.”

“So Miss Georgiana informed me. I have no interest in your silver, sir.” That wouldn’t have been true on any other occasion. He was a criminal, after all, a thief. A thoroughly bad man. But he had far bigger fish to fry.

“Hmmph. I trust you have no interest in my daughter,” he said in his gravelly voice, “either of them.”

“None apart from my employment, sir.”

Sir Elston still didn’t look convinced. “Touch a hair on their precious heads and you’ll have me to answer to. I’ll horsewhip you.”

His new employer was almost a foot shorter than he was, and well-padded. He’d have a hard time reaching him, but Rafferty simply nodded gravely. “Yes, sir.”

“All right, then, Rafferty. You may shave me.”

He managed a creditable job, given that he’d never shaved another man in his life, and saw Sir Elston neatly dressed and on his way downstairs before he heard the screech from one of the bedrooms. Since butlers were ostensibly in charge of an entire household, he went straight to the room, tapped on the door and pushed it open.

Norah Manning stood in the middle of the room, in the midst of throwing a brush, when she saw him. “Who are you?” she demanded in tones of deep loathing.

“I’m your new butler, remember?”

“Get out, get out, get out!” she screamed, throwing the brush at him.

He closed the door before it could hit him.

The door across the hall opened, and Miss Georgiana Manning stood there, her tawny hair in a braid halfway to her waist. “Who are you?” she said sleepily.

Introductions in this household were certainly consistent. “Rafferty, your new butler,” he said politely.

Her bright blue eyes narrowed. “No, you’re not! I hired a new butler last night, and he...”

“Shaved and bathed and bought a new suit,” he said. “Good morning, Miss Georgiana.”

A bright smile lit her face, and she came rushing out of her room, paying absolutely no attention to her deshabille. “It is you!” she said, taking his hands. “You look wonderful.”

He gently detached himself. All he needed was the old man or the wicked sister to see him and his service would be at an end.

“Thank you, Miss Georgiana. Is there anything I might do for you? If not, I should go back downstairs...”

“Oh, no,” she said. “I hired you, I should be the one who oversees what you do. Come into my room and talk to me.”

“I can’t do that, Miss Georgiana,” he said solemnly. The nightgown she was wearing was worn thin from use, whereas Norah’s had been rich silk from the glance he’d had.

“Oh, call me Georgie,” she said. “All my friends do.”

“I’m not your friend, Miss Georgiana, I’m your servant. And it would be improper of me to come into your bedroom.”

“Why not? Our old butler did when he brought me my tea. So did Harkner, Papa’s valet. It’s perfectly all right.”

No, it wasn’t, but he wasn’t sure how he could explain that to her, when she herself came up with the answer. “You are remarkably handsome, Rafferty!” she said with a heartfelt sigh. “I never realized beneath the rags and dirt and beard that you were so pretty!”

He just looked at her. “Do you always say exactly what you’re thinking?”

“I’m afraid so. My mother tells me it’s a very bad habit, but since I don’t go into society much, I don’t see that it matters.”

“You were out last night,” he pointed out.

“That’s because the Rutherfords aren’t good ton,” she confided. “And I don’t really like society much. I wish we were back in the country.”

“Why?” He shouldn’t be having this conversation with her—he should be back down in the kitchen and away from temptation. Though why he should find her so tempting was a mystery. She was pretty enough, but no great beauty, and she definitely talked too much.

“I’m not supposed to talk about it,” she said, and he hid his amusement. She talked about everything else.

Rafferty kept his face stoic. “Bertha said she’d bring your tea up to you. Would you like me to see what’s keeping her?”

“Oh, she brought my tea ages ago. I was going to get dressed when I heard Norah having one of her temper tantrums. Was that over you?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Good,” she said with a grin. “And you must have gone into her room. Why can’t you come into mine?”

Because she doesn’t look at me with shining eyes and call me pretty, he thought grimly. “Rules are rules, Miss Georgiana. You want me to be good at my job, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” she said earnestly.

“And you don’t want to give your father any cause to fire me, do you?”

“Oh, he wouldn’t. No one else would work for free.”

He hid his own grin. “He’s already warned me not to touch a hair on your head or he’ll horsewhip me.”

“But I didn’t expect you to do my hair,” she said, far too literal. “I just want to talk to you. You must have lived such an interesting life—I want to hear all about it.”

He could just imagine her reaction to some of the harrowing tales of his thirty-one years. “Miss Georgiana, there’s a great divide between those downstairs and those upstairs. Servants never converse with their employers.”

Instead of looking chastened, she smiled at him. “See, you’ll be perfect at this. How do you know so much about...about butling? Were you ever one before?”

He wondered how she’d react if he told her the truth.

That the first fifteen years of his life he had lived in a great house, albeit on the edges of the family, and he’d had more than enough time to observe the duties of a butler.

“No, miss. But I’ve read a lot.” He threw that in for his own amusement, then regretted it when she latched on.

“You can read! Oh, that’s wonderful. Except I’m disappointed—I had plans to teach you to read and write...oh, you can write, too, can’t you?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Oh, don’t call me miss. It’s too formal.”

“If there’s one thing a butler is, it’s formal.”

She grimaced. “That’s all right. I’ll find something else to teach you. You’re going to be the very best butler in all of London and everyone will want you but you’ll tell them no and stay here because you’re loyal and we’re the ones who took you in.”

“Very noble of you,” he said, just a trace of ice in his voice.

“I said the wrong thing, didn’t I? I always do.

” She screwed up her face in consternation.

And then the distress vanished. “I know what we can do! I’ll tell you all the little secrets of this household to ensure that you do an excellent job, and you can tell me when I’ve said the wrong thing.

Not in front of my parents, mind you. They’ve given up on me and I don’t want them knowing I’m trying to improve.

But you can help me while I help you, and that way we can be friends, can’t we? ”

He looked down at her. No, we can’t be friends , he thought with some frustration.

You need to stay in your world and I’ll stay in mine .

But she was smiling up at him so sweetly that he couldn’t bring himself to crush her spirit.

Assuming it could be crushed—he was having his doubts about the irrepressible Miss Georgiana.

Georgie. It was an absurdly good name for her.

“We can be friends,” he said solemnly. “But for now, I’ve got my duties to perform, and you wouldn’t want to keep me from them, now would you?”

“Of course not.” Her brow wrinkled. “Will you come back later?”

“When I can,” he lied. He knew what he was—Miss Georgiana Manning’s new toy. She’d lose interest soon enough.

“Splendid!” she said, believing him, and he could have wished she weren’t quite so gullible. Quite so talkative.

Quite so tempting.