A Kiss for Hope by Grace Burrowes

Author:Grace Burrowes [Burrowes, Grace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781962291637
Publisher: Grace Burrowes

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This concludes your free sample from A Kiss for Hope. If you received this file as your final version of the novella, please contact your ebook retailer and they should be able to correct the error immediately.

Chapter Seven

“Where is Chumley and who in blazes are you?” Joshua Penrose kept his teeth from chattering, but only just.

He pushed past the unfriendly female who’d opened the door to his dwelling and stomped into the dimly lit foyer. The house was cold—what English house wasn’t cold in December?—and faintly scented with balsam. Somebody had no doubt hung greenery where it ought not to be, a problem to be dealt with after Joshua’s feet, face, and fingers had thawed.

Assuming they ever did.

“I am Mrs. Hope Burdette, and I will thank you to take yourself out of my house this instant.” Mrs. Burdette was tallish for a woman, and youngish for a housekeeper. She was clad in faded blue velvet skirts and at least two shawls, one black, one the same blue as the skirts. Both weree ratty at the edges.

Fingerless black gloves completed this fetching ensemble, along with auburn hair scraped back into a bun. The scowl was imposing, or would have been were Joshua not exhausted past all bearing.

He closed the door and tossed off a bow. “Joshua Penrose.” At your service would have been ridiculous. “I own the place. If you’re the housekeeper, you work for me. I need a fire, if you please. Also a plate of victuals—sandwiches will do—and something hot to drink. Tea is acceptable—strong China black—but a toddy or chocolate would be welcome too. I trust there’s a fire to be had somewhere?”

“What did you say your name is?”

Spare me from tippling servants. “Joshua Penrose. I am your employer, though I’ve been on extended travel in the New World. We haven’t met.” He’d remember that chin, which hinted of determination and an opinionated aristocrat or two somewhere higher up on the family tree. Swooping brows to go with an unapologetic nose and well defined jaw.

Cobwebs, dust, and lackadaisical underlings would stand no chance with this lady.

Mrs. Burdette was far from pretty, but she was attractive. She had substance and presence, and—Joshua would bet his share of the bank on this—an impressive temper.

“Mr. Penrose—if that is your name—I know not what scheme you are trying to hatch, but my husband purchased this house two and a half years ago. He paid dearly for it, and if you think to swindle me out of my home by dark of night and in the dead of winter, you have taken leave of your senses.”

Feeling was flooding back into Joshua’s feet, face, and hands. An infernal itching joined exhaustion, hunger, and the crushing sadness he’d not managed to heave overboard during three weeks at sea.

“The scheme, Madam, must be yours. I have not sold this dwelling, nor have I authorized its sale. If you will produce your husband, I will happily acquaint him with the pertinent facts.”

Joshua could see his breath in the shadowy foyer, and yet, it was his foyer.

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