AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Megs started, looking up into the serious dark eyes of her new housekeeper, Mrs. Crumb. They were in the dining room, which, apparently, was one of the few rooms in Saint House that Mrs. Crumb considered habitable at the moment. “Er, yes? I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that last bit.”
Mrs. Crumb was too well trained—nearly terrifyingly so—to indicate in any way that she was repeating herself. “If it agrees with you, my lady, I shall take the responsibility of finding and hiring a new cook. I’ve found in the past that great care should be taken with the employment of cooks. Staff run so much better when well fed.”
Mrs. Crumb gazed at Megs with a deferential yet determined air. She was something of a surprise. Not that Megs doubted in any way that Mrs. Crumb was an exceptional housekeeper—within minutes of entering Saint House, she’d set the girls from the orphanage to cleaning, sweeping, and ordering, and she’d so cowed Mr. Moulder that he’d not even questioned the housekeeper when she’d instructed him to throw out any edibles still left in what, apparently, was a quite filthy kitchen. Tall for a woman and with a bearing that would have done a general proud, Mrs. Crumb had black hair neatly tucked beneath a white cap and dark eyes that seemed to compel obedience in both little girls and grown footmen. But—and here was the surprising part—the woman couldn’t be over the age of five and twenty. Megs would love to ask her how, exactly, she’d risen to such prominence in her profession as to bear golden references from the powerful Lady Caire at such a young age, but truthfully, her new housekeeper intimidated her.
Just a little.
“Yes.” Megs nodded. “That will be quite satisfactory.”
“Just so, my lady.” Mrs. Crumb inclined her head. “I’ve taken the liberty of sending ’round to the Bird in Hand inn for a roast goose, bread, a half-dozen pies, and assorted boiled vegetables for supper, as well as provisions for the servants.”
“Oh, wonderful!” Megs smiled at this efficiency. She hadn’t been looking forward to a supper of boiled eggs—assuming there were any eggs left—and roast goose was one of her favorites. But was it one of Godric’s favorites? She simply hadn’t any idea—he’d never mentioned food in his letters, and from the paucity of his kitchen, what he ate obviously wasn’t high on his list of important needs. Well, that was just silly. A pleasant meal made everything so much more enjoyable. She’d have to find out what he liked as soon as she could.
If Mrs. Crumb noticed her distraction, she gave no sign. “With your permission, my lady, supper will be served in here at eight of the clock.”
Megs glanced at the clock over the mantel and saw that it was already half past seven. “Then I suppose I ought to go freshen myself.”
Mrs. Crumb curtsied. “Yes, my lady. I’ll go see that everything is ready.”
And she marched from the room.
Megs blew out her breath and hurried to her bedroom. Normally she didn’t bother dressing for dinner at home, but tonight was special.
“The scarlet silk, please, Daniels,” she instructed her little lady’s maid and then stood impatiently as she was dressed.
The scarlet was over four years old—from before her retirement to the country. What social events she’d attended in Upper Hornsfield had been far less formal than London. It’d seemed a waste to have new dresses made when what she had already outshone the local gentry.
Megs winced now as her bodice was drawn perilously tight over her bosom. Abundant country meals seemed to have led to growth in that portion of her figure. She made a mental note to visit a London modiste as soon as possible.
Still, the scarlet set off her dark hair and creamy pale complexion quite well. Megs leaned toward the cloudy mirror over the ancient dresser in her room and shoved a lock of hair back in place. She ought to have Daniels take the whole thing down and start over, but she hadn’t the time—it was already five past eight.
Rushing from her room, Megs nearly cannoned into the back—the rather broad back, now that she looked at it—of her husband.
“Oh!”
He turned around at her involuntary exclamation, and she had to tilt her head back to see his eyes. He was close, his chest nearly brushing her bodice.
He glanced down swiftly, almost imperceptibly, at her bosom, and then up at her face. His expression didn’t change at all. He might’ve just glanced at a side of beef.
“Your pardon, my lady.”
“Not at all.” She wasn’t a side of beef, damn it! Inhaling, she smiled sweetly up at him and slipped her hand through his arm. “You’re just in time to escort me down to dinner.”
He inclined his head politely enough, but she felt him stiffen just a bit against her.
Well, she’d never been a quitter. She might’ve had to retire to the country for a bit to recover from the loss of Roger and their baby, but that didn’t mean she was going to lie down without a fight now.
She wanted a baby.
So Megs pressed close to Godric, ignoring his rigid posture, and linked her hands, effectively tethering him to her. “We quite missed you today.”
He’d left the ladies to organizing Saint House immediately after they’d all returned from St. Giles. Presumably he’d spent the day in some type of male pursuit.
His swift glance down at her was incredulous.
Megs cleared her throat. “Sarah and I did come to London to visit.”
“I was under the impression that it was shopping you and my sister were after.” His tone was as dry as the dust the maids had battled all day. “That and upending my house. You travel with a veritable village.”
