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Chapter Eleven
Rose crouched by the side of a charming pond, on the outskirts of the walled gardens, and trailed her fingertips across the still surface. The water felt warm from the day’s heat, like dipping her skin into a soothing bath.
Truthfully, she would have loved nothing more than to shed her clothing, which clung to her from perspiration and the soapy water of the laundry tubs, and sink into the pond entirely, letting that tepid water embrace her bare flesh. An outlandish notion, of course, for anyone might have seen her from the house, but she dreamed of it regardless.
“It’s roasting, isn’t it, Puss?” Rose tipped back until her bottom landed on the grass, and she held out her hand to the sleek gray cat that had been following her like a shadow since she began work at the laundry.
It ambled toward her and rubbed its soft head against her palm before it stepped right into her lap and nestled down contentedly atop her thighs. She knew she would be in trouble with Mrs. Linehan if she was seen stroking the creature, but she could not resist its soft fur and its gentle nature. Most of the cats in London would hiss or bite, but this one did not seem to know how to be brutish.
“You must be so warm with all that fluff,” she said, scratching between the cat’s ears. The creature purred happily, its rumble vibrating across Rose’s legs. “Maybe you don’t mind being warm, huh? I’d rather be too warm than too cold.”
“Miss Parker, is that you?”
Rose froze, her heart leaping up into her throat. She had come out here in the hopes of attaining peace and quiet, for she was not yet used to all of the noise and smells and ablutions of the maids she shared a room with, nor the congregational dinners they ate every night. She had eaten most of her meals alone, back in London, aside from the luncheon she took at the sewing house. So, the constant ebb and flow of people was still something of a shock.
She turned to find Lord Bentley standing nearby. “My Lord, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to stroke the cat. She just came up into my lap, and I didn’t have the heart to turn her away. I know I’ve no right to ask, but please don’t tell His Lordship!”
Lord Bentley smiled and sat down on the edge of the pond, though he kept a polite distance between them. “Your secret is safe with me. Besides, I should say that Bluebelle looks rather comfortable upon your lap, and she is the true mistress of this house.” He flashed her a good-humored wink that encouraged a tentative smile onto her lips.
“Thank you, My Lord.” Rose breathed a slight sigh of relief, though she did not know if she was permitted to sit out here with Lord Bentley, with no-one to act as chaperone or watchman.
He is a flirt, isn’t he? Is that what Lord Langston called him?She supposed she had dealt with enough unwanted attention to be able to evade Lord Bentley’s attention if their conversation began to diverge in that direction. For now, she was glad to have some reasonably quiet company. She adored the three maids whom she shared her room with, but they did love to giggle and gossip, and she was not at all comfortable with the latter.
“I did not realize her name was Bluebell. I’ve been calling her Puss all this time,” Rose admitted.
Lord Bentley laughed. “I think she will answer to anything, as long as there are caresses being offered. Though, it is Blue Belle, as in ‘beautiful blue’ rather than the flower. It sounds the same, but it is important to note.”
“I’ll not forget, My Lord.” She scratched the cat under the chin, Bluebelle’s eyes closing with satisfaction.
“Actually, I was hoping to find you alone, so this is rather fortuitous.” Lord Bentley gazed out upon the pond, where gaudy dragonflies skimmed across the surface, and meandering goldfish swam beneath.
Rose frowned. “You were?”
Should I be concerned?
He appeared to hear the subtext in her voice. “Have no fear, I have no impolite intentions. I am rather fond of my head and would prefer to keep it upon my neck.” He chuckled quietly, almost to himself. “You see, the Captain and I have plans to visit the seaside the day after tomorrow, and Mrs. Whittaker suggested you might be the ideal candidate to help with the food and serving our picnic and that sort of thing. Would you like that, Miss Parker?”
Giddy excitement exploded through Rose in a wave of childish glee. In the summers, when she was younger, her mother and father had always taken her to Brighton for a week or two. They were some of her finest memories: walking along the promenade, dipping her toes in the sea, skimming pebbles with her father to see who could make them bounce along the surface the longest, and feeling the salty breeze upon her face, that would cling to her skin and her hair for hours afterward.
You have no idea what the seaside means to me, Lord Bentley.Those memories had kept her warm through some of the bitterest nights when her father had been particularly foul, or her fingers were aching after a long day at the sewing house, or she had lost all hope for how the rest of her life would proceed.
She nodded shyly. “I would, Lord Bentley.”
“Splendid news.” He plucked a daisy from the grass and twirled it between his fingertips. “I have already made arrangements with Mrs. Whittaker, so all you need to do is arrive at the kitchens at five o’clock in the morning, the day after tomorrow, and she will explain what will be expected. More than likely, you will be left to your own devices for much of the excursion until you are needed.”
Rose beamed. “I will be at your service, My Lord.” She paused. “Though, if I might ask, where will we be going?” She secretly hoped for Brighton, but she would relish the chance to visit any seaside, in truth.
“Skelton Bay. Do you know it?”
She wracked her mind. “I believe I’ve heard of it, though I’ve never been myself.”
“Then this shall be as much of an adventure for you as it shall be for the Captain and me,” he said, offering her an oddly earnest smile.
“I am very grateful, My Lord. I won’t disappoint.” She stroked Bluebelle, who had just given her a slight nip as a warning that she was still in need of affection.
Lord Bentley nodded. “I know you will not, Miss Parker. His Lordship is already very pleased with your work, and you seem to be integrating rather well with the rest of the household.”
“He is?” The beat of her heart quickened suddenly. She had seen him watching her on several occasions and had presumed he did that with all the newcomers to his household. It was only when she had asked Georgie if that was true, and she had looked at Rose as though she were quite insane, that she had begun to wonder why Lord Langston was paying her such attention.
