“Excellent.Why don’t we enjoy the evening?We shall check in with you before we depart tomorrow.”
Munroe chimed in, “You’re leaving tomorrow?”
Catching his alarmed glance at his steward, the Duke of Cranbrook chuckled and explained.“When people travel for multiple days to reach a destination, they prefer to enjoy their visit for a few days.However, we suspected you’d be overwhelmed, and as I said in the letter, we came because we live close—only a few hours ride.”
Xander nodded and caught a movement at the door.The pretty maid—his curiosity about the color of her hair under her mobcap had only increased—was gesturing at him.He frowned.
She mimed pouring a drink in a glass then bringing it to her mouth.
Ohh.This whole drinking during the day thing was a nobs’ benefit he could get behind.If he could only remember it.She seemed to know things the other servants did not.Or perhaps they all knew protocols but only she dared point his failings out.Regardless, he didn’t care as long as her wisdom could benefit him.
He inclined his head and turned to his guests.“Shall we adjourn to the parlor and have a drink before supper, then?”
Their smiles told him she’d saved him from embarrassment.Well, that was a pleasant change from her discovering it.Perhaps he ought to ask her for lessons.
* * * *
After a surprisingly relaxed supper, there were more drinks and cigars—for the two older men, anyway—in the parlor.
Xander had been relieved to see a veritable feast laid out, with several options of grilled fish and meats, and four courses.He hoped the servants hadn’t ended up with bread and cheese as a result and made a mental note to talk to Cook on the morrow.
Another impressive buffet was set out for breakfast, and his visitors rose earlier than he’d expected, based on his limited knowledge of aristocrats and London hours.Country hours must be different even for entitled—er, titled—lords.He was still on tavern hours, but he’d instructed his valet to wake him at the first sign of his visitors stirring.
The poor man almost skipped in eagerness.To date, Xander had barred him from his room other than to coordinate baths and collect his laundry.Given the valet’s reaction, he surmised Frazer must be nervous for his job and decided to review staffing soon and reassure servants wherever possible.
This morning, he needed Frazer’s help knotting a cravat without strangling himself.North had helped him for the journey here, and he hadn’t bothered with one in the house.But needs must for guests.
After breakfast, he made all the appropriate noises as Cranbrook and Hollibrook donned their outerwear.
“Your Grace, Lord Hollibrook, I very much appreciate your assistance and guidance.I have more work to do to learn everything I need, but I look forward to seeing you again.”He actually meant that, too, much to his surprise.Even so, the back of their carriage was still visible through the front window as he stood in the main hall and tugged at the neckcloth.
“There’s a pin, Your Grace,” the pretty maid murmured to him, trailing her duster along a side table.
He looked around for a mirror, his hands still clenched in the folds of white linen.
“Shall I help?”
His brows rose.Any other servant would ask timidly.She suggested it, as bold as could be.Frankly, it was a refreshing change.And what could it hurt?He’d already surmised she could help him with a good many aspects of this new life, filling in the gaps that Munroe could not.
“Please.”His tone was gruff as he dropped his hands and raised his chin to get out of her way.
She sidled closer, tilting her head to peer at the mess he’d made.
“Hold this.”She held out the feather duster.
He took it without thinking, then caught the footman’s owlish look.His eyes were so wide that Xander pictured them possibly rolling out of his face.A quiet snort escaped him.
“My lo—Your Grace?”The maid turned her doe eyes, dark brown and huge in her face, up to meet his.
He whispered, barely moving his lips, although why he was concerned about embarrassing her, he didn’t know, “The footman yon seems very concerned that I am holding your duster.”
Her gaze slid to the side.Glancing back at him, she snorted, too.“My apologies, Your Grace.It seemed the most expedient way to stop you from strangling yourself.”
Impudent wench.He fell a degree more in lust with her at that moment, gazing down at her ivory skin, full lips in the palest of pinks, and delicately arched brows.In his old life, he’d kiss the impudence right out of her, then find a quiet corner in which to tup her—a desk, bar, keg of ale, whatever was at hand.
His cock woke and stretched.Taking a deep breath, he willed his body back to sleep.
“There,” she said with a firm nod.His cravat slid around the back of his neck and he tore his gaze away from her face.Ah, she held his cravat pin—who knew?—in one hand and was tugging the cloth off him with the other.Presenting them to him with a flourish, hands held high, she grinned and said, “Shall we trade?”
