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Derek Cathcart,” he
said with an English accent.
    “I’m Nancy Carrington-Chambers.”
    As they shook hands, she saw that his
nails were clean and buffed. He smelled subtly of something woodsy and
masculine. He wore his straight, espresso-dark hair and sideburns long, but
beautifully cut -– too beautifully for a straight man.
    Her heart leapt with hope. “Please have
a seat, Derek,” she said, indicating the chair opposite hers.
    He sat down and crossed one long leg
over the other at the knee. He glanced around the room and then he caught sight
of the arrangement of blue carnations and Mylar balloons that she’d set on a
side table.
    Nancy said, “Your suit…how it suits you.”
    “Thank you,” he said simply.
    “Please tell me a little about yourself
and your experience as an assistant.”
    “I’ve been in service for over ten years.
I was the assistant to a gentleman, managing staff, arranging travel, and
attending to his scheduling, including those matters which required the utmost
discretion.”
    Nancy thought his pronunciation of
scheduling, schejooling, made it sound more sophisticated. His voice was as
mellifluous as a character on a British historical drama, the kind where
everyone is always running to the haberdashery for new ribbons to trim a
bonnet.
    “While I cannot disclose my former
employer’s identity…”
    “Is he a royal?” Nancy asked.
    Derek smiled slightly and then said, “Mr.
Chambers has spoken with the gentleman and received a letter of recommendation.”
    “It’s a pity that Mr. Chambers is
staying in our home in the hinterlands, because he could certainly do with a
man of your skills,” Nancy said. “This is a three-month assignment and your primary responsibility will be
helping me plan parties, receptions, and weddings. I need someone who is detail
oriented and able to get along with a variety of people.”
    “I strive to treat all with respect,
from the humblest chambermaid or stable boy to the most honored and titled
members of society.”
    Her heart, already aloft, danced like a
kite in a spring breeze. “I may also need someone to assist me with a writing
project.”
    “This would be no hardship, Madame, as I
am an experienced scrivener.”
    She knew she should ask more questions
and check his other references, but she was suddenly terrified that he’d be
snatched away by some vulgar arriviste who’d parade him around like a prize. Still,
she had to be sure that he was the real deal.
    She asked, “How do you like the
carnations and balloons?”
    He squared his shoulders and gazed into
her eyes. “Mrs. Carrington-Chambers, I do not wish to offend you, but they look
like a dog’s dinner.”
    “You don’t offend me in the least, Derek.
In fact, I’d like to offer you the position. If you’d like the job, when can
you start? Do we have to submit a request?”
    “Mr. Chambers authorized the employment agency
to handle the paperwork, and I can start immediately,” he said, thereby
fulfilling her girlhood dream of having a gay, English assistant.
    Nancy spent the rest of the afternoon in an
ecstasy of efficiency. She showed Derek how to operate the espresso maker and he
caught on immediately. He seemed impressed by the contents of her refrigerator.
    “Such an impressive array of beverages,”
he’d said while observing the neat rows of bottled waters, the glass bottle of organic
low-fat milk, and the lemons and limes in her fridge.
    “Thank you. You can have as much water
as you like, and I’ve got it in still and sparkling from several different
countries. I only buy the ones in attractive bottles because that improves the
whole water drinking experience, don’t you think?”
    “Unquestionably.”
    “I’m doing clear bottles this month, but
sometimes I like green bottles, and the frosted glass ones are fab. You’ll have
to stock them for me.”
    “Your palate must be extremely refined
to distinguish between so many varieties.”
    “Yes, but it’s not