AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Should a smile be his only reward he may count the game worth the candle.
***
He and his bear wandered the land well past tea time, noting several disturbances in the landscape that could only have been made by a great predator roaming the boundaries. Perhaps it was only he, the great predator who had been roaming them, but he knew his markings and these were not his. One more thing to protect Madam from, for the love of Freya.
Arthur bathed in the brook, with a cake of soap he had secreted there, the robust scents of orris and oak moss clinging to his skin. He wrapped himself in a cloth and jogged back to the house, pausing when he caught sight of Madam moving about before her window, brushing her hair, an unexpectedly great fall of gold, while she chatted to a squirrel.
He slipped into the laundry and dressed with a view of not being dressed for much longer. Ought he at least put on a waistcoat? He did not wish to be slovenly, but a cravat was out of the question. He put on a waistcoat and a coat, buttoning neither. Or would she like to unbutton him? Must he put on stockings and boots? He must; he would look the veriest tramp, or worse, a louche rake, coming upon her both unbuttoned and unshod.
Half the buttons of the waistcoat, then. Doing them up, he entered the kitchens.
The servants turned to him and quite ostentatiously looked away, Morag going so far as to leave the kitchen and take the mice with her. Mrs. Porter hung her apron upon its hook with exaggerated care, and Conlon, loyal, devoted Conlon, tilted his head in such a minute obeisance it was the precise opposite of one of Madam’s curtsies.
“Taking your cues from Her Grace, I see,” he called after them. He joined Ben by the stove, where his brother was calmly stirring the contents of a madly boiling pot. “What are you at?”
“Your wife very kindly asked me for potpourri to freshen the footmen’s rooms.”
“It smells familiar.” It smelled of cedarwood and clover and home.
“It is Mum’s old recipe.” Ben stirred thrice clockwise. “I am making up laundry soap as well.”
“How do your in-laws fare on the Continent?” Thundering Thor, that they should bide so far from home…the shame of it walloped him out of nowhere. So many abroad and away, families enough to thrive on Arcadia’s grounds and leave room for more. How Madam would champ at the bit to see them settled.
Ben sprinkled in a pinch of lavender. “They are well, in the farthest north of Germany, near to Scandinavia with many of our kind. They correspond with Charlotte, naturally, and miss the children. We thought to visit twice, but in each instance Ursella objected, going so far as to hide until we missed the ship.”
“Why in the world should she do so? And that you allowed it?”
“It was not permissible to leave England, she said. An Omega, even as yet undesignated, is to be heeded.” Ben tossed in a pinch of lemon zest. “I encourage you to return and ask me the second question when you are a father.”
He might allow a child, but he would never be a father. Would he? “Is there any supper left for me? Has nothing been kept warm?” He poked around the larder and found he was not in the least peckish.
Suffering from your nerves?his bear quipped and was ignored.
Ben stirred the brew counterclockwise thrice. “As the stillroom is occupied, I was given leave to use the hob.”
“You need not explain yourself to me, I who have nothing to do with the quotidian workings of this place.”
“As is correct, Alpha.” Ben stirred clockwise once more and took the pot off the heat. “We missed you at the meal.”
“Did you?” Ben did not dignify the admittedly sulky riposte. “What transpired?”
“Bernadette has taken it upon herself to educate Beezy in the improvement of her storytelling, going so far as to transcribe a directive for which events ought to unfold.”
“The next Anchoretta Asquith.”
“Tarben insisted he too knew how a story should unspool and proved himself to be as lacking in skills as his beloved aunt.”
Arthur laughed. “I am sorry I missed it.” He truly was. He was sincerely sorry he’d missed that moment. He smoothed down the lapels of his coat, one of his favorites, a deep violet that brought out the bear in his eyes. “I must convey my apologies to Madam for the lack of my company and bid her sleep well.”
He left the kitchens to the accompaniment of his brother’s muttering, “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
***
The squirrel on the branch tilted its head inquisitively. “Well, you should wonder, Master Squirrel. Had we not inspected each dwelling it would have been rather a different tale indeed. The farther from the first cottage we proceeded, the less attention to detail was to be observed. I bear the builders no ill will. It is the habit of this class of workmen to ensure their patrons remain on their toes.” Beatrice left off plaiting her hair—as difficult as ever given its thickness—and idly brushed the ends. The squirrel sat up on its haunches and fled up the tree to hop into another and away. “Until we meet again, sir.”
The door opened without even a cursory scratching upon it. Without turning she said, “Good evening, Your Grace. Once again, you prove your expertise at opening doors whether or not it is wanted.”
He shut it behind him. “Once again, Madam, may I suggest you proffer honey as opposed to vinegar.”
