A Marchioness Below Stairs by Alissa Baxter

Author:Alissa Baxter [Baxter, Alissa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 2017-11-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Isabel and Simmonds left the restaurant a couple of hours later, using the servants’ entrance this time. Isabel walked up the stairs to street level, and glanced cautiously around. Mr Bateman was not in view. She breathed a sigh of relief, but it was premature. As they stepped into the street she spotted him, leaning casually against a street lamp on the opposite side. “Let us walk on, Simmonds. Make haste.”

Isabel hurried along, with her maid struggling to keep up with her. She looked over her shoulder when she was halfway down Baker Street. Mr Bateman ambled behind them. She wasn’t fooled by the leisurely way in which he strolled. He was most definitely following her. She had just reached the front gate of their house, when Mr Bateman strode towards her.

“Go and change your dress, and then come downstairs to the drawing room. I wish to speak to you.”

Isabel eyed him warily. It would be better to get this confrontation over sooner rather than later, so she gave a brief nod. Her maid opened the wrought-iron gate and Isabel followed her down the servants’ stairs, and then up to her bedchamber. Simmonds changed her gown, tut-tutting all the while, but Isabel ignored the soft clucking sounds she made as she pulled a clean morning dress over her head. Her stomach was in a tight knot and her fingers trembled. She had no desire to face Mr Bateman in his current mood.

Mr Bateman awaited her in the drawing room and when she entered, he closed the door behind her with a decided click. He turned to face her. “Now, Lady Axbridge, I would like an explanation.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “I do not see why I need give you any explanation, sir. I am a grown woman and I make my own decisions.”

“Does your mother know you are masquerading as a servant and visiting an Indian restaurant of all places?” he snapped.

Isabel looked away. Something in his voice compelled her to answer his question, even though she heartily wished him at Jericho. “No. I saw no reason to worry her, as it is only for a few days. I am learning to cook Indian cuisine.”

He raised his brows. “Indeed?”

“Yes. I developed a taste for the curries you made when we were at Chernock Hall, and when George told me that the delicious curry we dined on a couple of nights ago had been ordered from The Hindoostane Coffee House, I wrote to Mr Spencer and asked him if his cook would teach my cook and my cook’s assistant to prepare Indian food.” She raised one shoulder. “He agreed.”

When Mr Bateman merely raised his brows, she rushed on: “My cook at Axbridge Park has no idea how to work with spices, so I wanted to learn about them so that I can teach her when I return home.”

“I see.” He crossed to where she stood, and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I do not like the fact that you are putting yourself at risk by donning a maid’s garb and walking in the streets alone.

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