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The other servants nod, smiling as brightly as a burning candle. “Happy for me?” I grimace. “Why ever for?”
“I think it’s taken everyone by surprise that you’ve requested roses for your romantic dinner with Miss Primrose.” Lucian strolls in with a teasing smile. “Something you want to tell us, mate?”
Oh, great. Carlson is a gossip too. I’ve learned more about this man in one night than I have in all the years we’ve known each other.
“It’s not a romantic dinner,” I grunt.
“Sure, it’s not.” Lucian grins, patting my shoulder.
Swatting his hand away, I turn to the rest of the staff. “It’s just that I believe that it would only be fair to Miss Primrose if she were to spend her next few days in a much more welcoming environment.” Why do I even feel the need to explain myself?
“Ooh. Miss Primrose,” Lucian whispers. Not feeding into his obvious attention seeking, I keep my neck straight. Everyone looks at me as if they’re witnessing a baby walk for the first time. A strange prickly sensation runs through me as my cheeks burn.
“Well, it’s only fair, isn’t it? Haven’t I always been fair?” I press.
Their heads fall in unison. One hesitant voice rises from the rest. “Aye, sir.”
“And that’s a no,” Lucian whispers and grins. He’s going to meet the back of my hand soon if he keeps going.
“Whatever. Just get it done,” I mutter.
“Aye, sir.” The female servants giggle, and the male servants smirk.
Deep down, my stomach does a flip, but that’s only because their foolish, juvenile behaviour is catching. Clearing my throat however, I clench my cheeks and flash them my firm jawline.
“Gloria. Make sure that Miss…” Choosing to avoid more of Lucian’s teasing, I adjust. “...Olivia gets to wear whatever she chooses, preferably not restricting, unless she wants to be restrained…” Oh, no. Wrong word. I cough. “...restricted. Unless she wants to be restricted.”
Lucian stifles a grin next to me as I turn to scowl at him, hoping my body didn’t react too obviously to the flashing image of restraining her by her wrists while doing…
“Ahem.” I clear my throat.
“You all right there, mate?” Lucian slaps my back, and I suppress a growl.
“The rest of you can take lanterns out to the garden so that we won’t have to eat in complete darkness. See to it that you find a spot that is flat enough to not cause the food trays to tip over on your way over to us. A small table for two people should do as well,” I inform them.
“Aye, sir.” The staff echoes in an excitable, broken-up chorus before hurrying away like happy Australian quokkas.
A few hours later, as I step in the separate bedroom to prepare for the night, I’m met with a vast choice of outfits.
“Are those inexpressibles?” I ask, lifting the thin garment that mock trousers and holding them close to my body. “I do think these would be quite revealing, don’t you?” I say to my manservant who’s biting his lip and lowering his head.
I’ve never worn inexpressibles, only because they’re terribly impractical. Olivia has already seen all my bits and well, I don’t need to walk around tempting the staff. The thought causes an unexpected flow of laughter to pour out of me, and my manservant gasps. Hearing myself laugh over something so silly strengthens an almost unstoppable eruption of laughter that has tears seeping from my eyes. My manservant turns away, but I can see his shoulders shaking as he struggles with holding back his own.
“Ahem.” I force myself to sober, wiping the tears from my face and turning to look in the mirror. Bad idea, my flushed face is even more hilarious, and I’m tempted to come undone once again. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” I say.
“Oh, sir. Please. Don’t apologize. You seem different, but it’s… nice,” he says, dipping his head.
Ugh. Nice. Shivers run through me. I’m not sure if I want to be perceived as nice. That won’t help business, but tonight isn’t about business. In fact, I’d prefer if business is the last thing I must deal with. It’s why I tried handling the accounts earlier, so that I won’t have my thoughts focused elsewhere. Tonight, I want it to be all about her and me, enjoying the mere pleasure of her company.
“I think this will do.” I hold up a deep-blue tailcoat. “With a deep-grey waistcoat. No cravat, please. I can’t stand how those things strangle me.”
“Aye, sir.” My manservant nods.
Looking through the mirror on the bed, I eye the choices of bottoms. “Hm. Maybe those white buckskin breeches and knee-high boots,” I say.
“Aye, sir.” The servant smiles. “Excellent choice,” he says under his breath.
Once dressed and out in the hallway, Gloria approaches me, who hands a single rose to me. “What is this? Put it with the rest of the arrangement,” I say, walking past it.
