To Serve Read online

  He sat back down and so did the others. The chef started to go over yet another inventory list and Alistair’s chest tightened. There would be no enduring this task without at least knowing if she was all right.

  “If you will excuse me for a moment please,” he said to the chef and the housemaid.

  Both servants looked at him in surprise, but gave polite nods without objecting. Since he was senior to them in the servant hierarchy, they likely wouldn’t say anything to his face. Which was just as well, because he was already moving out of the kitchen.

  “Miss Smythe, there is a matter that needs your attention,” he said loudly as he spotted her down the hall.

  Evie turned to him and he approached her.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked, lowering his voice. “Are you all right?”

  Her lower lip trembled, and she suddenly looked so fragile that he was ready to sweep her into his arms and never let her go. “It’s nothing.”

  “Pardon me, Miss Smythe, but it doesn’t look like nothing,” he said.

  “I meant that it’s nothing for you to worry about,” she said, a sharp note in her tone.

  Under any other circumstance he might have taken her tone as a sign to let her be. But Alistair was certain he wouldn’t be able to shake his concern until he got to the truth. “Perhaps if I gave you my new mobile number. You could call me at any time.”

  She shook her head. “I really don’t want you to worry.”

  Alistair frowned. “I’ve never seen you this way. Not in all the years I’ve known you.”

  “It’s just jitters and cold feet about the upcoming proposal. And then the wedding.”

  “Miss Smythe—”

  “Forget I said anything.”

  Rage tore through him at the thought of someone hurting her. “Was it the duke? Is he responsible for your unhappiness?”

  “No,” she said, so firmly he almost believed her.

  The rage coursing through Alistair’s veins turned to a hatred he hadn’t thought a man could possess. He balled up his hands and he knew right there and then that if she confirmed that she had been hurt in some way, he was likely to beat the duke senseless. “I know I said we had to keep our distance, and we do. But if you need my help, we can break protocol. Speak in secret. The way we agreed to so long ago.”

  She gazed up at him, her eyes full of longing. Though what she longed for Alistair couldn’t say. Did she want to confess the truth to him? Or was there something more that she wanted? Something as dangerous as what he wanted?

  He shoved that errant thought aside. Whatever his feelings were for her, it was clearly one-sided. Evie was going to be married. To a man who seemed to already be making her miserable.

  “Those days are over, Mr. Godstone,” she said flatly. “I know my place now.”

  Her place. The contempt in her words was impossible to ignore. A hint that there was a dividing line between them that neither could cross. A reminder that his place was below her. Only a fool would have expected her to unburden herself to a mere servant. It was now obvious that not only had Evie taken his earlier warnings about protocol to heart, but she had now gone one step further and was determined to keep him in his place.

  Indignation seized him, and his old resentment of the entire Smythe family came roaring back. Alistair had nothing in common with Evie except a friendship that had ended a long time ago. They were from opposite worlds. She above. He below.

  “As well as I know mine,” he forced out through clenched teeth.

  “Then we understand each other.”

  Yes, he supposed they did. On this subject at least. On all other subjects, they might as well have been speaking two completely different languages to each other. Evie’s concerns were dinner parties and planning her wedding. Meanwhile Alistair had to hold on to this job no matter his own feelings, because his father needed his pension. Not that Evie cared about his job. His position in the manor was probably the last thing on her mind.

  “Indeed,” he said.

  Evie gave a nod of her head and then turned away from him. She took a step and then paused.

  His heart hammered. Perhaps she was rethinking what she had said to him. Maybe she was going to confess the truth to him after all.

  She turned around to face him once more, the expression on her face no longer pained. In fact, she looked the opposite of pained. Her face was perfectly serene. Almost haughty. “Mr. Godstone, I trust that you remember we have a dinner to plan.”

  Another reminder of his place. Evie had ordered him with the practiced ease of the aristocratic woman she had been groomed to be.

  “Of course, Miss Smythe,” he said stiffly.

  “Good. You can await further instructions,” she said. “Once you have them, I expect you and the rest of the staff to devote all of your time into making the dinner a success.”

  He was about to respond, when she turned on her heel and walked down the hall without so much as a second glance. She had managed to cut him off without having to say a single word. But her retreating figure said everything he needed to know. Evie no longer thought of him as a friend on equal footing with her, if she ever had at all. No matter how much he secretly yearned for her, Evie’s hints had done the job. From now on Alistair would remember that, to a man like him, Evelyn was unattainable.

  EVIE RUSHED INTO HER bedroom right as the tears started to fall. With the hurt threatening to overwhelm her, she shut the door and lay down on her bed. More tears fell and she reached for one of the goose-down feather pillows. Holding on tight to the pillow, she forced herself to bite back a sob.

  She had always been good at controlling her tears. Whenever her father’s insensitivity became too much to bear, or she discovered she was the subject of some malicious society gossip, Evie knew to cry silently away from everyone. Her father couldn’t abide tears, or any display of too much emotion. It was vulgar to cry in front of an audience, especially servants. That was just the way of things, and she had to accept it. She had to be a lady at all times.

  Except she hadn’t been much of a lady in front of Alistair.

  She hadn’t expected to find him in the kitchen when she had gone to ask for tea. Ordinarily she could have just rung for it, but after her row with the duke and that horrid end to her conversation with her father she hadn’t been able to sit still.

  Her father’s threats to sack Alistair had been ringing in her ears when she entered the kitchen. That was why she fled the kitchen the way she did. Then Alistair had followed after her, and his concern for her had touched Evie so much that she had nearly burst into tears in front of him.

  Though her father had noticed that she was upset, he hadn’t pressed for the truth the way Alistair had. Not only had Alistair asked what was wrong, but had ignored the very protocol he had insisted on and offered to help her. Offered a secret friendship, the way they had tried as children.

  That reminder of their childhood friendship had stirred up old feelings. Feelings she hadn’t been able to put into words until that moment. Because, as a child, she had thought of Alistair as more than a friend. If she was being honest with herself, she had fancied him. How could she not, when he had been so much more mature than her? So much worldlier than her sheltered friends at her posh school?

  But even thinking about her childhood crush on Alistair was against the rules. Evie was all grown up now, and that childhood crush had been a long time ago. She knew her place. Evie was no longer a spoiled little girl who could do as she pleased. Her entire family was counting on her to do her duty. It wasn’t fair to drag Alistair into that.

  A light knock on her bedroom door banished her thoughts. She exhaled a shaky breath and sat up. “Who is it?”

  “Your tea, Miss,” came the muffled voice from the other side of the door.

  Quickly she brushed her tears aside. “Come in please.”

  A maid entered the room, balancing a tea tray in her hands. “Pleasant morning, Miss Smythe.”

  “
Good morning,” Evie said. “Thank you for the tea.”

  “You are most welcome, Miss.” The maid set the tray on the bed, dipped a curtsey, and vanished from the room.

  In addition to the scones and tea things on the tray were strawberry jam and clotted cream. Evie hadn’t requested the scones. That had been Alistair’s doing. He must have recalled how much she had loved scones as a child. Tears pricked the back of her eyes in amazement that he remembered such a small detail. Annoyed with herself, she blinked the tears away and began spooning sugar into her cup of tea.

  Now that Alistair was back, he was all she could think about. Which was why she was already going over their conversation in her mind. Despite his concern for her, he had seemed to grow distant as their conversation wore on. As if he had started to remember his commitment to protocol above all else. The cold Alistair had returned very quickly, the butler replacing the man she yearned to know.

  That aloof response had reminded her that they both had assigned roles. The only reason they could ever speak was in their shared efforts to maintain the manor. As the baron’s daughter, it was her place to instruct the household staff. Never had she hated that role more than when she had turned from him that final time.

  What she wouldn’t give to be able to speak freely with him the way they used to. But she couldn’t afford to give her father any excuse to dismiss Alistair from his new post. Alistair needed to keep his job to get his father’s pension. That was more important than her feelings. More important than her increasing trepidation about marrying the duke.

  Because she had to marry the Duke of Rothford. The longer he courted her, the worse it would be if she were to end things. The scandal of breaking things off with him after such a serious courtship would be inescapable. Her family might never recover. Nicholas wasn’t some rich banker’s son she could walk away from unscathed. As the Duke of Rothford, he was a few unfortunate deaths away from the throne. Not only would the scandal follow her wherever she went, but it was now obvious that Nicholas was vindictive. If she ended it, there was a very good chance he would make her and her loved ones pay dearly for it. So she didn’t dare walk away from Nicholas now, even if she was sick at the thought of marrying him.

  Evie brought the teacup to her lips and took a sip, hoping that the warmth would soothe her. Perhaps she could learn to make peace with the marriage in time. She wanted children, and she was certain motherhood would bring her happiness. If she was devoted to her future children, surely she would be able to endure a lifetime with Nicholas.

  Yes. That was the answer. Marrying Nicholas might not bring her the true love that she secretly longed for, but when they had children she was certain that happiness would follow. Not only would she be doing her duty by having heirs and keeping her father’s baron title in the family, but she could find joy in raising her children with all the love she had to give. With her heart set on that future, Evie decided to focus her attention on finishing breakfast. She would need fuel for the next few days. After all, she had a dinner to plan.

  Chapter 8

  ALISTAIR SPENT THE next few days overseeing preparations for the dinner. He had to make sure that everything was in stock, from the truffles to the wines in the manor cellar. The correct silverware had to be chosen and polished, along with the rest of the antique tableware. Not to mention the heavy lifting of helping the gamekeeper haul in pounds of the game that had been hunted on surrounding manor lands.

  He was in the kitchen finishing up his lunch when Hannah, Evie’s lady’s maid, appeared.

  “Miss Smythe would like a word in the dining room,” she said.

  Over the past few days, Alistair had received instructions from Evie through her lady’s maid. This would be the first time he would be speaking to Evie herself since their tense conversation the other day.

  “Of course,” he said, getting to his feet and putting on his suit jacket. “Lead the way.”

  He followed Hannah to the dining room and found Evie standing near the long table, a pensive expression on her beautiful face.

  The windows in the dining room were enormous, allowing beams of sunlight to stream in and light up her golden hair. Bathed in gilded light, she was so radiant that his heart stopped for a moment when he caught sight of her. He hadn’t seen her in days so, looking at her right now, he felt like a dying man finding an oasis in a desert.

  At the sound of approaching footsteps Evie turned to look their way, and his eyes met hers.

  They were captivating, her eyes. A hypnotizing blue he hadn’t forgotten in all their years apart.

  “Mr. Godstone, thank you for coming,” Evie said, her voice emotionless. “I was finalizing table settings for tomorrow’s dinner, and since you’re new I’ll have to bring you up to speed on a few things.”

  He nodded, and gestured for her to continue.

  “My great-aunt, Dame Hyacinth Leigh, cannot be seated anywhere near her ex-husband, Mr. John Leigh,” she explained to him.

  “Oh no, they absolutely cannot. Best to put them on opposite sides of the table,” Hannah said. “They’re liable to start a row and cause a scene.”

  Alistair hadn’t realized that the eccentric pair he vaguely remembered from his childhood had divorced, but it wasn’t his place to make such an observation. “I’ll keep that in mind. However, if they’re placed directly opposite from each other, they’ll be in one another’s line of sight. That might cause a problem as well.”

  “You’re right,” Evie said, nodding her approval. “Putting them across from each other won’t solve the problem, either. We’re going to have to move the place cards again.”

  Hannah began shuffling the place cards on the table.

  “I’ll send you names and photos of the guests who can’t be seated near each other,” Evie said, taking out her mobile phone. “I suppose that means we could exchange numbers now.”

  Alistair couldn’t quite place the emotion he heard in her tone. Maybe it was regret over how she had rejected his suggestion to trade phone numbers days earlier. Or maybe she was embarrassed at showing him her private distress. Either way, it was clear she was subtly hinting at their earlier conversation. As the butler, it was his job to be discreet. For both their sakes, he wouldn’t acknowledge that they had exchanged such tense words. Hannah didn’t need to know about Evie’s pain, and no matter how disappointed he was in her he would always shield and protect Evie.

  “Yes. Let’s.” He retrieved his phone from his jacket pocket to exchange numbers.

  “I’ll send the names to you by the end of the day,” Evie told him. “Since the dinner is in three days, I think we’ve covered just about everything.”

  “There’s still your outfit,” Hannah said. “You haven’t settled on a dress yet, and time is running out.”

  Evie frowned. “Oh, that’s right. I had forgotten about that.”

  “Why don’t we try them on and leave Mr. Godstone to his tasks?” Hannah suggested.

  “You’ve always been very stylish, Hannah, but we could do with a man’s opinion.” Evie paused and looked over at Alistair. “Why, you could help me choose my dress.”

  It took every ounce of strength for Alistair to hide his shocked reaction to that suggestion. “I’m not very knowledgeable about such things.” Besides, he was damn sure that, no matter what she wore, Evie would always look beautiful to him.

  “Miss Smythe, I very much agree with Mr. Godstone,” Hannah said, a rebuke in her tone. No doubt she knew how utterly improper this was. “Why not ask the duke for his opinion?”

  “Lord Rothford has gone to fetch his parents, and probably won’t be back until tomorrow morning,” Evie said. “My father isn’t here, either. That’s why I need a man’s thoughts. What do you say, Mr. Godstone? It’s only three outfits.”

  His mouth went dry at the mere idea of Evie changing out of her clothes. Ever since he arrived, Alistair had worked awfully hard to keep his thoughts as appropriate as possible. A secret attraction to her was one thing.
But full-on lust for her was now an extremely dangerous possibility. If he had a shred of sense, he would back out now and pretend she had never made such a suggestion.

  “Very well, I shall help you choose,” he heard himself say. Damn it all to hell. Desire had managed to override good sense. Alistair knew he shouldn’t want this, yet his baser instincts drove him to agree to her request.

  Trying to ignore the desire surging through him like a wildfire, Alistair walked upstairs with Evie and Hannah, then followed them into Evie’s bedroom.

  The expansive bedroom room reminded him of her. Elegant with an understated luxury that was evident in the white furniture with gold trim and floral details. This was not the gaudy space of new money. Everything about Evie signaled the sort of breeding that only generations of wealth and class could bring.

  Being in her bedroom to perform certain tasks wasn’t necessarily against the rules since she had invited him in, but entering her private quarters while she undressed certainly was. The only way he might be able to rationalize this was to rely on Hannah’s presence to smooth over any impropriety.

  “I’ll start with the black dress I bought at that boutique in London.” Evie opened her wardrobe, pulled out a trio of dresses, and handed all but one to her lady’s maid. Then she disappeared into the adjoining bathroom and shut the door.

  Alistair swallowed hard, avoiding Hannah’s eyes. The lady’s maid was likely scandalized by the whole thing, and he didn’t blame her. Back in London, with the working and middle class set he ran with, it wouldn’t have mattered if he showed up to a woman’s room at her invitation. But here, among the upper class, there were rules. He was a servant and she was a noblewoman. An incredibly beautiful, desirable noblewoman.

  Several silent minutes went by before Evie stepped out of the bathroom.