Tamsin took a breath and looked up. Her dark-blue eyes took in Ruby and Alice at once. “All right.” Her mouth firmed; her freckled face went set and determined. “You win. We’re staying.”
Chapter 5
“This is a fucking disaster,” Archer said.
It had been six hours since the ladies-in-waiting had arrived, and he had not yet regained his usual self-command.
He was panicked. He was panicking. He’dbeenpanicking, with increasing vigor and urgency, all afternoon.
“It’s not that bad,” Lamentation said. “We got the casks out of the house, at least.”
Archer ran his hand through his hair, which reminded him that he needed to cut it. And shave. And find some new bloody clothes, if he was going to keep up appearances around three London ladies for a disturbingly nebulous period of time.
“Itisthat bad,” Wall said. “I’ve never seen Archer pace like this. Not even when he got put off theSwallow.”
Archer froze. Hehadbeen pacing; if there had been a rug on the floor of the kitchen, he would have worn a path in it by now. But—
Hell. Damn it. If Wall could see his disarray—if Wall was bringing up Archer’s disgrace on theSwallow, which they never spoke of, not even in extremity—then Archer needed to marshal some lies and give the situation a brilliant coating of gilt.
That was what he did. He made them believe they were safe.
He had to. Because he was the one, back in the navy, who had foundered them all on the rocks. And now he was the one who had to convince them they were not on the point of drowning.
He spun one of the kitchen chairs around, straddled it, and tried to force his jaw to unlock. “It’s...” The words wouldn’t come. ApparentlyIt’s going to be finewas a bridge too fucking far when he was confronted by The Woman From The Party in his own goddamned house. “It’s not... ideal.”
“I don’t really understand what the problem is,” said Eugénie. Her voice, lightly accented from her native Dominica, was soft but steely. “The girls brought loads of money with them. Gerry showed me the packet with the letter from the Monfalcone ambassador. Apparently he made budgetary allowances so that they might abide in the style to which they are accustomed. We can afford to feed them, Captain.”
Archer had seen the money too: a fantastic sum, which only made him more concerned that the ladies-in-waiting meant to dwell in Pomeroy House for the rest of their natural lives.
“The Monfalcone ambassador is part of the problem,” he said. “That girl—Lady Ruby Ballimore—is his daughter. If she writes to him and tells him something is amiss here at Pomeroy House, he’ll tell the royal family. I’m under no illusions that House di Sangro has any loyalty to me personally. One word from the ambassador and we’ll all be out on our arses.”
“Then let’s make certain nothingisamiss,” Lamentation said. “We can clean. Straighten. Maybe with all those guineas we can acquire a couple of villagers willing to work as chambermaids.”
Archer shook his head. “We can’t do that either. Because the royal family has only authorized the estate to be staffed by me and a groundskeeper. If Lady Ruby tells her father that it’s fully staffed—if she tells the earl about all of you—we’re equally fucked. None of you are supposed to be here.”
When Archer had first been hired on, the Monfalcone royal majordomo had indicated that the princess had no immediate plans to visit Pomeroy House, despite plentiful rumor to the contrary. Archer had always assumed that if that changed—if the princess meant to descend upon the mansion in state—he would be afforded plenty of warning. Surely, he’d thought, the Monfalcone royals knew as well as he did that a mansion of this size could not be kept in perfect repair by a single steward.
Based on the day’s events, perhaps they did not.
Eugénie’s dark brows drew together, an elegant line above her perceptive gaze. “That makes no sense. If House di Sangro wanted the princess’s ladies-in-waiting to live here, why would they not pay to fully staff the house?”
“I’ve no bloody idea. Maybe they’re out of money and hiding it very cleverly.” Archer knew plenty about that.
Wall got up from the table and moved to the stove, where he was boiling a bone he’d acquired from the butcher. Apparently the puppies had been orphaned too young; though they’d been weaned off milk, they were smaller than Wall preferred. According to a scientific text on hunting dogs that Wall had ordered from a Swedish catalog, the puppies now required marrow jelly.
Wall decanted the reddish, slithery substance into a series of jars as he spoke. “There’s also the problem of all the ill-gotten goods in the house.”
“We moved the casks,” Lamentation protested. “Gerry and I have spent the majority of our day moving casks to and from the cove, in point of fact.”
“It’s not just the wine,” Archer said. “We’ve got all the leftover sculptures from Dorset in the stables, and those foul-smelling cigars, and about a thousand pairs of lace stockings in one of the tower bedrooms.”
“And silks,” added Gerry in his deep bass rumble. “Lots of silks coming next week, right, Cap?”
God. Archer had nearly forgotten the silks.
“Could you tell them you’re a silk merchant?” Lamentation asked. “In addition to being a steward?”
Archer scratched at his beard. “I suppose I could try.”
