Regency Rumors (The Sinclair Society Series, Book One)

Chapter One

The grim-faced butler who opened the door gave me a stern look and declared, "Applicants for the position ought to go around to the servants' entrance."

Startled, I blinked as I struggled to comprehend what he had just said to me. Position? Servant's entrance?

"I beg your pardon?" I managed to ask as I held out my card. I had written Faircroft's address on the back. "I believe there has been some kind of—"

He interrupted me with a huff, snatching the card from my hand. "Always the same," he muttered, just loud enough for me to hear. He stepped back. "Well, come in already, Miss Nelson. I shall have Mrs. Burnham informed of your arrival."

Maybe it was because I didn't have an escort when I knocked on the door, or perhaps because my appearance wasn't quite up to the standards of current fashion. The walking dress I had selected for the visit was several years old, but I hadn't thought it terribly out of style. I could have made the argument it showed the kind of taste that was respected by the ton.

The timing of my visit could not have been at fault. I had arranged to arrive at the beginning of the visiting hours, but in no way could I have thought it too early.

In any event, whatever was the reason for the series of misunderstandings that followed, my confusion was considerable. A cold wind encouraged me to enter without arguing. Surely I would be able to clear up the misunderstanding better once I was inside rather than on the doorstep. I had barely squeezed through the doorway when the butler closed the door, missing my shoulder by less than an inch. I flinched away on reflex, and so lost my chance to say anything for he walked away, leaving me standing in the hall.

I breathed out, pulling at the gloves on my hands. This was not how I had expected my visit to go. The worst scenario I had imagined was I would be thrown from the house, and only after I had a chance to explain the reason behind my visit. Being mistaken for a servant? That certainly had not come into my head at any point and put quite a damper on my enthusiasm.

Never before had I been left alone in such a manner, and I found it to be an uncomfortable experience. Was such a situation typical for a person seeking a position? I pondered on that as I turned to take in what I could see of the house.

At the very least, I would have a fascinating tale to relate to Aunt Beth when I returned.

I couldn't be sure how long I was left standing there when I was startled by someone speaking. "This way, Miss," a sulky-faced young woman called out from the staircase. "I'm to take you up to Mrs. Burnham."

Taking a deep breath, I walked over to join her. To my surprise, she sniffed derisively and turned her back on me, her nose in the air. As she climbed the stairs ahead of me, I had serious doubts as to the sanity of the servants in the Burnham household. Such behavior would have resulted in dismissal in any other house, so why was it allowed here?

Holding my tongue on the matter, though, I trailed along behind the rude maid until she reached a closed door on the second level of the house. She flung it open and loudly announced, "Miss Nelson, Mrs. Burnham."

I opened my mouth to correct her on my name, but she just continued on her way down the hallway. Left standing at the open door, I glanced from her retreating back to the room before me. "Well, come in," a woman called. "You're late enough as it is. I don't have all day to spend on this."

It was at this point I felt sorry for any poor woman in search of a position in the house. I stepped into the room, determined to set the matter straight. The mistress of the house sat at the desk in the middle of the library. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Burnham," I said, curtsying.