Page 61 of An Earl for the Archeress

“Alice,” Robert said.

“My lord.” His head servant curtsied. “The hearth in the great hall is being set to roaring for your comfort, and Bridget is seeing to refreshments for your…” She noticed Mariel dismounting from behind Robert. “Pleasure,” she finished.

The way Alice’s lips pursed in distaste was not lost on Mariel. The woman no doubt thought Robert’s interest in her was misguided.

“See to it a hot bath is prepared for the lady in the old kitchen.” Robert gestured to Mariel.

“Not for you, my lord?” Alice questioned.

“I intend to use it after her. The dirt of the road is clinging to me and feels like paste, but there’s no sense in wasting two tubs of hot water.”

Alice nodded but bowed her head. “One was already being prepared for you, my lord, in your chamber, since you generally like to cleanse yourself after a long journey. The tub would need to be emptied before it can be moved.”

Robert paused, looked at Mariel, and seemed to come to a decision.

“Well, there’s certainly no reason to go to all that labor,” he said, never severing his eyes from Mariel’s “The lady may bathe in my bedchamber where the tub rests. I shall busy myself elsewhere until she finishes.”

Alice did her best to swallow her shock and reached out to guide Mariel forward. “I shall see the lady tended first, as you wish.”

Robert nodded and replied. “Please also request Lady Charlotte’s presence—” Mariel’s head whipped around. Robert allowed the corner of his mouth to turn up in the cocky smirk he used when teasing her. “In the great hall, if you please. I have a favor to ask of her, which should work to the advantage of our lady guest,” he added, nodding to Mariel.

She watched him dismount and hand off his reins. He climbed the steps, arriving beside her to pass.

“Trust in me,” he whispered, dipping his head low to hers so she might hear, before continuing onward.

Alice led Mariel up a set of stairs from the great hall, around the gallery, and down the corridor leading to Robert’s solar. Instead, Alice ushered her into the lord’s chamber. A hefty wooden tub sat before a massive hearth while children filled it with pots of steaming water. The chamber was expansive, high ceilings, a giant bed of ornately carved wood, draped in fine green and silver velvet canopies. The furniture was old, fine, and upon one wall was an entire shelf of precious books. The floors were covered in rugs imported from the Continent and every candlestick she saw had been cast in gold, glittering in light from the dancing fire.

“You may lay down your things here.” Alice gestured to a polished chair that had been moved to make room for the tub. “I’ll go fetch Lady Charlotte to the great hall as His Lordship has requested.”

Mariel gaped at the books, gaped at the metal coats of arms upon the walls, the sheer wealth that had been required to outfit such a room. Then her eyes settled on the bed. It was the most intimate item of them all. Robert slept there. How did he look when he slept? Did he sleep without clothing? Did he sprawl or toss his arms up? How many women had known this bed?

At long last, Alice returned.

“All right, into the bath,” she said with a harrumph.

“I suppose Robert thinks I smell,” Mariel said.

Alice scoffed. “I’ve seen your ways. Whilst you smell no worse than any other man, therein lies the problem. You’re not a man. The earl says you’re a noblewoman. You ought to act the part. I can only imagine how you’ve disappointed your unfortunate father, wherever the man might be. And your garments need laundering. Remove them and I’ll see to their washing.”

“I’ve nothing else to wear.” Mariel swallowed, refusing to allow the servant’s words to sting.

Her father was not unfortunate. He was a tyrant. And indeed he had been disappointed in her, though it mattered not if she’d worn gowns or trousers. It had mattered not if she’d mastered the manners befitting of a woman. It most assuredly had mattered not if she wore the beautiful silk ribbon he had given her so many years ago, so he might see she appreciated his kindness. She was strong-willed and a woman, two accursed traits, and therefore in need of constant discipline. Except the lesson of his fist had seemed to come out of nowhere most of the time, and there was nothing she could have done to make him happy. She had not been born a lad, and there was nothing she would ever be able to do to change that.

“Lady Charlotte brings a gown for you at His Lordship’s request.”

“A gown?” Mariel balked. Robert had mentioned asking Charlotte to find her some things to make her stay more comfortable, but he hadn’t said a gown.

“Indeed. It’s an article of clothing worn by gentlewomen, in case you’ve never seen one—”

Mariel rolled her eyes.

“—though you’ve hardly adequate flesh to hold a gown on. And the one you kept in your traveling packs is in poor repair. Hardly worthy of the Earl of Huntington’s company.”

“Why should I require his company?” she argued, for the sake of argument.

“You’re here as his guest. You’ll indeed spend time with him, whether it be in the hall or, em, more personal encounters,” Alice said. “Which he seems to be fond of, judging by your return to us once more.”

The older woman blushed at her implication.