The Lady in Disguise

Chapter Twenty-Five

Byrne considered going into breakfast, but the minute he approached the door and heard Tony laughing loudly about something, he thought better of it. The noise was not appealing. And it wasn't as if any food appealed to him at the moment, either. Even the smells in the kitchen had made him feel as if he might cast up his accounts... until he saw Miss Crewe, that is, and immediately forgot it all.

It was best leave Tony to make his proposal, be summarily rejected, of course, then he could set his sights on another, possibly within the day. Tony was never one to wallow for long.

As much as he believed Tony deserved to have his chance, Miss Crewe seemed no more inclined toward him today than yesterday. He just hoped she wouldn't find herself another closet to hide in. She'd do better to get her refusal out of the way sooner rather than later.

In the meantime, something Miss Crewe said was weighing on his mind. Not that he didn't tend to mull over her every word, but her lamenting over Evie's workload had caused him some concern. She was a good girl. Even from her first interview, when he balked at hiring one so young, she insisted she would work twice as hard as one older and three times as long. And it was true, from what the other servants said. Every bit of work Evie was given, she insisted she wanted more. He knew how that went. People often took advantage. He would not be that sort of employer. If she wanted to learn the skills of a lady's maid, he'd rather pave her way than stand in it.

And the fact that Miss Crewe might be charmed by him taking her words seriously didn't hurt. Perhaps by the time he came back, his own negotiations could begin in earnest. He was certainly looking forward to them.

He signaled Higgins as he entered the hall, feeling rather buoyed. "I'll need the carriage or the cart, whichever can be readied first." He stilled. "No. My horse." Emir was probably as eager for the exercise after all this rain as Byrne was.

Higgins straightened. "Of course. Shall I call Fletcher to get your—"

"No. It's warm enough to forego a coat, I think."

Higgins chuckled. "I'm not sure Mr. Fletcher would agree."

"Whether he agrees or not, I'd rather no pomp and circumstance for a simple trip to the village."

"To Coton?"

Byrne glanced up. That wasn't Higgins. It was Oliver Browning. 

Byrne stiffened, his good mood evaporating immediately. "I don't see any need for you to be apprised of my comings and goings."

Browning drew nearer as Higgins went off, damn him. "I was only wondering. I hear your time there was... not successful so far."

Byrne squinted at him. "And where did you hear that?"

Browning glanced down. "One hears things."

"Well, in case you want to send word to your father, I'm going into Linton to hire a laundress." He moved to the door, deciding he'd rather wait in the drive.

"My father?" Browning followed, of course. "Why would I—"

Byrne turned sharply. "Let's leave the pretense behind. Do you think I don't know the reason you're here?"

Browning shook his head. "My reasons are not—"

"Or am I to believe you did not come here by design?"

Browning's face hardened a little. "Are you not here by design as well? Sir Anthony seems to think you his friend, but you are using this party to—"

"I am his friend." Byrne bristled, moving a bit closer to him. "As for this party, practically every servant here and every morsel of food has been provided by me. Believe me, if anyone is being made use of, it's myself."