His Housekeeper's Christmas Wish

‘Have I dropped gravy on my neckcloth?’ he enquired, making her jump. ‘Only you have been staring at it for quite a while.’

‘I was thinking that your linen is immaculately kept,’ Tess admitted. ‘Your neckcloths and your shirts.’

Alex choked on a mouthful of wine. ‘Do you always say what you think?’

‘Certainly not. Should I not have mentioned it?’ But it had been a compliment...

‘Perhaps not comments about gentleman’s clothing?’ Alex suggested.

‘Goodness, yes, of course. The outside world is such a maze, full of pitfalls.’

‘Are you nervous of what you will find in London?’ He put the question in such a straightforward way, without any show of sympathy, yet she sensed he understood just how frightening this was. Mother Superior had certainly shown no such insight, only the expectation that Tess would obediently accept her lot in life despite the blow she had delivered.

‘Terrified,’ she admitted baldly. ‘But there is no point in giving way to it—that will only make it worse. I will soon find my way around my new world. I did with convent life after all.’

Alex watched her over the rim of his goblet, his hazel eyes intelligent, and not, for a change, mocking. ‘It must have been a shock to find yourself there. Wine? This is very good.’ He refilled his own glass from the decanter.

‘Thank you, but, no. I’ve hardly ever had it before and I do not think I should start now.’ Tess scrutinised her conscience and admitted, ‘You are offering me too much temptation as it is.’

The air went still, as though someone had taken a deep breath and not let it out. ‘Temptation?’ Alex said with care, as he set down his knife and fork.

‘Food, servants, luxury,’ she explained.

‘Ah. The temptations of comfort, you mean.’ He picked up his glass again and turned it slowly between long fingers. The heavy signet ring on his left hand caught red highlights from the claret. ‘This is not luxury, although it is very civilised. You are tempted by luxury?’

‘I do not know. I obviously have no concept of it if this is merely comfort.’

‘What are your expectations of your new employment then?’

‘Simplicity, I have no doubt. After all, I will be somewhere between a poor relation and an upper servant in the scheme of things. Mother Superior explained that very clearly.’ Along with everything else. ‘But I will be in a home and that is the important thing.’

‘It is? I would have thought that salary and security would be the highest priority for someone in, forgive me, your position.’

‘No, not for me. Being able to earn my own living and to have some security is essential, obviously. But being within a family is what is most important. If I am caring for children that is assured, but an elderly lady or an invalid will have family, too, people who care for them.’

There was movement around her skirts and Noel climbed up, claws pricking her thigh, before he settled down into a small, warm ball on her lap. Tess cupped one hand over him, felt his little belly tight as a drum with chicken and milk. The vibration of his purrs was soothing. ‘Warmth. I want warmth.’

The maid came in with an apple tart and cleared the used dishes. Alex watched in silence while Tess served them both, then took the cream with a murmur of thanks. ‘You will miss that from the convent, I suppose. The close community.’

She stared at him, almost confused that he could understand so little. How to explain? Impossible. ‘No. I will not miss it.’ Ever. That cool, detached, ruthless honesty that seems not to care how it hurt. ‘You are a bastard, Teresa. That is the fact of the matter and you must adjust your expectations accordingly.’ Horrid old woman...

Tess felt stupid with weariness and carefully suppressed worry. The tart was delicious, but it was an effort to eat now. She pushed back her chair and stood, the kitten nestled in one hand. ‘I must take Noel out into the yard or we will be dealing with an accident.’

‘Give him to me.’ Alex stood as she did. ‘You can hardly hop out there with your bad ankle and your hands full of kitten.’

‘What are you going to do with him?’ Tess asked, suspicious. Perhaps he was regretting his impulse to saddle them with a demanding baby animal. She steadied herself with her free hand on the table.

‘I will take him out to investigate a nice patch of earth, then I will put down yesterday’s news-sheets near the hearth, add a saucer of milk and upend the basket over the top. Will that do?’