A Season of Seduction by Jennifer Haymore

A Season of Seduction by Jennifer Haymore

Author:Jennifer Haymore [Haymore, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Widows, Regency Fiction, Historical, Christmas Stories, General, Romance, Marriage, Historical Fiction, Bachelors, Fiction, Love Stories
ISBN: 9780446540285
Google: CaBAy2oYiNwC
Amazon: B003YFIUUK
Publisher: Forever
Published: 2010-10-01T04:00:00+00:00


Chapter Fourteen

She came downstairs in the late morning, just after Jack had returned from fetching their breakfast from their landlady in the village. Since he’d let the house, he’d communicated with the woman—a stolid, even-tempered widow with a puff of brownish-red hair and a deeply lined face—and he’d prepared her for his and Becky’s possible arrival at the house without notice. He’d already warned her about their need for board, and she obligingly provided him with a simple repast for breakfast and a promise of hot stewed beef for their luncheon.

Becky hesitated in the doorway to the kitchen, and Jack turned from the stove. His chest tightened at the sight of her. So beautiful, in her rumpled chemise. She’d brushed her hair and it hung in a sleek black fall down her back. His eyes lingered on the suggestion of creamy mounds rising from the neckline of her shift.

“Good morning,” he murmured, dragging his gaze to her face. “Coffee?”

“Oh. Well, yes. Thank you.”

“Have a seat. I’ll bring you some. There’s also fresh hot cross buns and some boiled eggs.”

She nodded and sat at the table. He lowered a plate and a cup of steaming coffee in front of her and then took the chair beside her with his own food. She took a tentative sip of coffee. From the way she grimaced, it seemed she didn’t drink coffee often.

They ate their breakfast in comfortable silence, and though the table lacked Stratford’s ever-present stack of newspapers. Jack found himself more content to be drinking his coffee beside Becky.

When they finished eating, he took the dishes into the scullery, rolled up his sleeves, and washed them. She trailed after him and watched him with a bemused expression on her face.

“How odd.”

Up to his elbows in water, he raised his brows at her. “What’s odd?”

“You’re washing.”

“Yes…?”

“I never knew a gentleman who cleaned dishes before.”

“You haven’t known very many gentlemen.”

“True.”

“And we haven’t any servants to perform the task for us.” He reached a soapy hand out to her, and asked, “Would you like to help?”

Her lips twitched. “I haven’t the first idea what to do.”

“Tell me you’ve never in your life washed a dish.”

“I’ve never in my life washed a dish.”

“Not even when you were a child scampering after the servants and their children?”

“No. I never scampered.”

“Ah,” he said. “Did you frolic? Cavort? Romp? Play?”

“No.” She leaned against the doorframe, perfectly relaxed. “My father died when I was four years old, you see, and my mother when I was six. Garrett purchased his commission in the army when I was very young and was absent for most of my childhood. My aunt Bertrice made certain I was safe and well, but she wasn’t the most maternal of guardians, and she discouraged childish behavior.”

The wistful expression on her face pulled at his chest. She’d been lonely even as a child. He held out a cloth. “Well, then, I’ll help you. Use this rag and rub it round the plate. When it’s clean, rinse it in the tub here.



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