Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
My chest tightens painfully. “Why hide such a wonderful trait?”
“He believed kindness created weakness in negotiations.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Yes.” A tiny, conspiratorial smile crosses Betty’s face. “I told him so once.”
I turn fully toward her. “You did?”
Her cheeks flush slightly. “I did. I may have said that being feared in business didn’t require being feared at home.”
“And?”
“He told me I was paid to polish silver, not offer philosophy.”
I laugh before I can stop myself. “And did that stop you?”
“No.”
Something shifts then. The air between us warms.
“You weren’t just staff,” I state quietly.
“No.” She meets my eyes. “I wasn’t. I cared deeply about him.”
There’s no impropriety in her eyes. No scandal. Just loyalty.
“He trusted you,” I say.
“Yes.” The word is steady. Certain.
I swallow. “Did he ever talk to you about why he stayed away from me?”
Betty’s expression clouds. “At the beginning, he thought it would make things worse if he bulldozed in where he wasn’t wanted. He didn’t want to take you away from the only life you knew, and he believed your mother would poison you against him if he fought for access.”
“She told me I was conceived from an anonymous one-night stand.”
“I know.”
We both fall silent. Inside, applause breaks out for something, another speech perhaps. The sound feels obscene considering the occasion, but rich people do things differently.
“I didn’t come here for his money,” I blurt out suddenly.
“I know,” Betty replies immediately.
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough.”
Her certainty catches me off guard. “What do you mean?”
“At the service, you looked at the coffin, not the guest list.” She tilts her head slightly. “That you haven’t asked a single question about the estate today. And you’ve done your best to remain in the shadows. When the vicar spoke about legacy, you didn’t look proud. You looked sad.”
My throat tightens. “He was my father,” I whisper. “I didn’t know him, but he was still my father.”
Betty’s eyes shine. “Yes,” she says. “He was. You were always in his heart.”
A long moment passes. Then she clears her throat gently. “If I may say something slightly forward?”
“Please.”
“You don’t have to navigate this thing alone.”
I study her carefully. “Are you offering to help me?”
“I’m offering,” she says with a quiet firmness. “To tell you the truth about things. About him. About what’s real and what isn’t.”
The wind bites at my fingers. I barely notice. “Why?”
She hesitates only for a second. “Because I cared about him,” she says. “And because I think he would have wanted someone on your side.”
Emotion rises fast and unexpectedly. I blink it back. “And are you?”
“On your side?”
“Really?”
Her answer doesn’t waver. “Yes.”
Not deference. Not obligation. Choice. Something inside me settles.
“Then you definitely have to stop calling me Miss Button,” I say softly.
A tiny smile breaks across her face. “Force of habit, but I’ll try.”
“Good.”
Inside, the music swells, some somber classical piece.
“Betty?” I call.
“Yes?”
“Did he suffer at the end?”
Her expression gentles in a way that feels almost protective. “No. He was lucid. Stubborn and irritated about the hospital lighting. He asked for the curtains to be adjusted three times.”
That sounds absurdly accurate from what I have learned about him, and a shaky laugh escapes me.
“He worried if the photographs had been packed,” Betty says. “I brought them to the hospital for him. Master Sheldon and Mr. Rhodes were both there, but we all knew he was waiting for you. He fretted like a child about your arrival time. ‘Has she arrived yet. How much longer? Where is the plane now?’”
The cold doesn’t feel so sharp anymore.
“He just wanted you with him before he died,” she says quietly.
The silence folds around us. I don’t cry, but I reach for Betty’s hand. We are not housekeeper and heir. Nor are we employer and staff. We are just two women sitting in the cold, trying to piece together a man who was never simple. And with Betty on my side, for the first time since arriving here, I don’t feel entirely alone.
Something occurs to me, and I blurt out my question, horrified that I might have been attracted to someone who is related to me.
“Betty, is Axel Rhodes my half-brother?”
“What? No. Why would you think that?” Betty asks, frowning.
“He just seems to resent me. I wondered…”
Betty shakes her head decisively. “No, nothing like that. Mr. Rhodes is now the force behind the Manswell empire, but his beginnings are humble. His mom was one of the cooks here, and since there was never any father in the picture that I know of, he practically grew up here below stairs, but Joseph saw his potential. He nurtured and mentored him, made him brilliant.
“I suppose it was almost a father-son relationship, and as soon as he felt his protegee was ready, he installed him as the head of the whole organization. Your father didn’t trust easily, but he trusted Mr. Rhodes. In his own way, I believe, he was much closer to Mr. Rhodes than to Master Sheldon, though he would never admit it to anyone. Especially since Sheldon was a bit of a disappointment to him because he showed no interest in the business at all.”