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Tentatively, she trailed down and halted, her nostrils twitching at…rosemary?
She twisted the handle, pushed open the door and gasped.
A medium-sized room presented itself, painted in sky blue and deep burgundy, shadowed but lit by lanterns upon ornate brackets on all four sides. Patterned carvings decorated the walls, giving an opulent feel, and the ceiling was rendered with gods and nymphs reclining upon fluffy clouds.
But that wasn’t the sole reason she’d gasped, for central to it all was a circular blue pool, some eight foot in diameter, sunk into the floor with petite marble steps and surrounded by sea-green tiles decorated with frolicking mermaids.
Not a ripple to the water, it appeared inviting and limpid.
What a delightful secret treasure.
Her eyes flickered up.
In one corner was an open arched structure, like a room within a room, a wall with stucco plasterwork and decorative cornices separating it from another door. Towels lay upon a shelf, a simple burgundy daybed set against the rear, a table next to it with an open book and empty glass.
What chiefly drew her attention, however, was the muscular man who lay slumbering upon that burgundy daybed.
In solely loose cotton sailor’s slops.
He dozed upon an arm, exposing his chest to her gaze, and drawn like a moth to a flame, she drifted along the poolside.
Mother had always said men appeared like innocent little boys when asleep but the same could not be said for Seth Hawkins.
Darkness beneath his eyes and that scar upon his brow gave a menacing air, fists twitching as his chest heaved.
He rolled onto his injured shoulder, grunted, and now disturbed it was an honour to watch him wake – unhurried and languid, arms stretching, torso expanding, eyes opening…
“Matilda?” He startled and jolted upright but made no effort to cover himself with the banyan on the hook.
Truly, what a delectable view.
Although a befogged one as her glasses had steamed up.
“Betty suggested I come to the basement.”
“Did she now,” Seth murmured.
“Hmm.” She wiped her glasses on her skirts. “I mentioned my aches, you see. From the cobbles.”
Instantly he rose to his feet, placed broad palms to her shoulders. “No damage, I hope?”
“No, just sore.” His slops rode low on his waist, damp and almost see-through. She didn’t quite know where to look.
Very well. She did know where to look, but an unbeknown shyness had descended.
“What a beautiful place, Seth. I had no notion.”
“No, I thought to show you all this tonight, but, well, you fell asleep.” He released her shoulders…leisurely. “This area is for my personal use, but…” And he prowled to the other door, opened it for her to peek through.
Speechless.
Another sunken pool, but much larger and oval shaped – some sixteen foot by ten. Hooks lined one wall of the room with benches below, a row of sinks opposite. Pitchers and towels were laid neatly upon shelves, and some type of rain-like bathing contraption that she’d seen advertised in The Times occupied the far end.
It reminded her of the bathhouses of ancient times and solely lacked men in togas chomping grapes.
“This larger room is equipped for the members. Wimpole Estate first gave me the idea as it has a similar basement, and of course, I had books on the Roman baths. I not only wanted an academy of excellence but also somewhere gentlemen could relax.” He rolled his neck this way and that. “I couldn’t resist having my own private pool, however – my one indulgence.”
“It’s a marvel. No wonder you have dukes squabbling in a queue.”
