Page 37 of The Redemption of the Shrew

At the door, she groped in her reticule for the key, but before she found it, the door flew open. “Thank the Lord you’re home, my lady,” Elspeth said, holding up a lantern, her features tight with worry.

“You needn’t have waited up for me. I was perfectly safe with Mr. Alexander and then Monsieur le Marquis.” Gloriana turned to say farewell to Philippe and realized he was shivering. “Oh, drat, your clothing is wet. You must be so cold! Come indoors.” Before he had a chance to refuse, she tugged him inside and shut the door.

~ ~ ~

Philippe was bloody cold, but more than that, he was taken by surprise. He was suspicious of women by long experience. He hoped to God this wasn’t another attempt to entrap him. He recognized the maid—the same one who’d opened the door to him at the Dower House in Lancashire.

“Elspeth, I lost my temper and spilled a pot of porter on Monsieur le Marquis, and he is like to catch his death of cold,” Gloriana said. “Please find a spare shirt and breeches. Gregory is about his size.” She turned to Philippe. “Gregory is my footman. Come, let’s go to the kitchen, as there are sure to be some warm coals in the stove.”

The kitchen sounded safe enough, and the maid would be there, too—not that servants were much use as chaperones. According to gossip, Gloriana had dispensed with her elderly female companion. He shouldn’t have come inside.

“Don’t take this as an apology, by the way,” she said. “As I told you earlier, I don’t want your death on my hands.”

“Nor do I, but it is improper for me to enter your house when you have no female relative living with you. It was foolish of you to get rid of her.”

“That is none of your business!” she cried.

“It endangers your reputation and renders you vulnerable to unwanted advances,” he said as stuffily as possible.

“You’re as bad as my brother. Stop fussing. No one will know you were here.”

Perhaps, but he didn’t trust her. He wouldn’t remain here any longer than absolutely necessary.

The maid led them down a dark corridor and a flight of stairs to the kitchen. She lit a branch of candles and set it on the deal table. The kitchen was blessedly warm. A boy slept on a pallet in a corner, wrapped in a rug.

“No, don’t wake him, Elspeth,” Gloriana said. “I’ll poke the fire into life. Just get the clothing, please.” She opened the stove and peered inside. “I’ll need to add more coals.”

More surprised by the second, Phillipe found the coal scuttle and brought it over. He tried to take the poker from her. “Let me do that.”

“I’m perfectly capable,” she began testily, and then added with a huff, “but likely you need the warmth.” She relinquished the poker. “I’ll heat some water. A good cup of tea will warm your insides.” She lifted a kettle from the stove, testing its weight. “This won’t be enough.”

The boy turned over and muttered something, pushing himself up on an elbow.

“It’s all right, Tom. Go back to sleep,” Gloriana said. The boy subsided with a grunt and began dutifully to snore, and she disappeared into what Philippe supposed was the scullery. He added coals and got the fire going. After a minute, he heard voices—hers and Elspeth’s—and Gloriana returned with a kettleful of water and set it on the stove.

“I don’t need tea,” he said belatedly. “A change of clothes, and I’ll be on my way.”

“Elspeth says you’ll want to sponge down to get rid of the odor of porter. She’ll put you in the butler’s pantry for privacy.”

“How very kind of her,” he managed. And where would Gloriana be whilst he was half naked?

“Elspeth is the kindest, best person in the world,” Gloriana said.

The maid appeared with an armful of clothing and a frown. “Nonsense, Miss Gloriana, I’m only doing my job. Off to bed with you. I’ll get Monsooer taken care of and on his way.”

“Thank you, Elspeth.” Gloriana turned to Philippe. “My pistol, please.”

He handed it to her. “Promise you’ll let me find the book for you.”

“You’re the one who should be promising—to stay out of my business. Thank you for bringing me home.” She lit herself a candle from the branch on the table and left.

He blew out a frustrated breath, watching her fade into the dim corridor. He shouldn’t have reprimanded her. Nothing was more certain to put her back up.

Elspeth poured hot water into a jug and preceded him to the butler’s pantry. She set a basin, a washcloth, and a towel on a shelf. “There you go, sir. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Elspeth.”

“And by the bye, sir—”