A Rake's Redemption by Donna Lea Simpson

Author:Donna Lea Simpson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
Publisher: Beyond the Page
Published: 2015-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

• • •

“Well, me lord, seems to me that you’ve got something—or should I say someone—on yer mind,” Mrs. Lovett said, lifting the covers and peering under them. She snickered and winked.

“I can take care of my own personal needs now, Mrs. Lovett,” Hardcastle said, snatching the covers away from her. She had come upon him unexpectedly, awakening him from a tender dream of Phaedra, a dream of sweet surrender, soft skin, murmured words of love.

“I’ll bet you just can, me lord,” the woman said with a salacious grin. “But if I can help you in any way . . .” She let the words trail off, leaving it to the imagination what kind of help she meant.

“I shall be all right, Mrs. Lovett. Is Miss Gillian about?”

“Aye, she is. She and her da are at morning prayers in the library.”

“Morning pra—oh, yes. Tell me, Mrs. Lovett, why has Miss Gillian never married?”

The woman paused in the act of emptying his chamber pot into the slops basin and frowned. “I’ve always wondered that meself. Don’t think she’s ever been asked. Mayhap it’s just that there’s no one suitable in these parts. There’s been those who have fallen for her—there is not a soul in Ainstoun who has an unkind word to say about Miss Gillian, and she’s a pretty gel, no mistake about that—but not a one would have dared court her.”

“Why? She’s not—she doesn’t seem cold-natured to me.” Hardcastle grimaced at the depths to which he had plunged, interrogating the serving staff to learn more about Phaedra. How he would have derided such actions a mere week before!

Mr. Lovett did not seem to find it strange though. She rinsed the chamber pot and tucked it away, then sat down on the end of the bed. “No, she’s not cold, just—ah, what’s the word I’m lookin’ for? She knows how to keep the fellas from makin’ a cake of themselves before they even start.”

“She is aloof?”

The woman looked doubtful. “Mayhap that be the word. If you say so, me lord. Not much material in the way of beaux around these parts for a young lady like Miss Gillian.”

“Mrs. Lovett, are you done here?” Phaedra came in at that moment, carrying a pile of clothing in her hands.

“Just now,” Mrs. Lovett said, jumping up from her relaxed seat on the end of the bed.

“Good.” Phaedra turned toward Hardcastle but did not meet his eyes. “I have mended and laundered your clothing, my lord. And the Simondsons have sent over the bag they found with Pegasus. It was somewhat mangled—they think the horse spent some time in the woods—but there is still your own nightshirt and a few other things that I will launder, as they seem a bit the worse for wear. After your venture yesterday, I thought you might like to go outside today, into the garden. It promises to be the warmest day we have had yet.”

“I would like that immensely,” he replied. Her voice, her presence was enough to send his mind tumbling back to his dream, and further, to their kiss the night before.

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