Mr. Cavendish, I Presume by Julia Quinn

Author:Julia Quinn [Quinn, Julia]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2011-09-05T08:05:56+00:00

Chapter 12

Aside from Harry Gladdish, the man who knew Thomas best was his valet, Grimsby, who had been with the duke since the day he left for university. Unlike most valets, Grimsby was of an exceedingly strong constitution. (Not that one would know this to look at him; he was quite slender, with pale skin that always worried the housekeeper, who kept trying to get him to eat more beef.)

When Thomas returned from a hell-for-leather gallop in the rain, his clothes soaked and muddied, Grimsby merely inquired after the horse.

When Thomas spent a day in the field, doing manual labor alongside his tenants, returning with any number of layers of grime on his skin, in his hair, and under his nails, Grimsby asked him if he preferred his bathwater warm, hot, or steaming.

But when Thomas staggered into his bedchamber, presumably still reeking of alcohol (he’d long since stopped noticing the odor), his cravat completely missing, and his eye a most remarkable shade of purple, Grimsby dropped his shoe brush.

It was possibly the only outward show of alarm he had ever displayed.

“Your eye,” Grimsby said.

Oh, right. He hadn’t seen Grimsby since his tussle with his lovely new cousin. Thomas gave him a flip sort of smile. “Perhaps we can choose a waistcoat to match.”

“I don’t believe we have one, your grace.”

“Is that so?” Thomas crossed to the basin. As usual, Grimsby had made sure it was filled with water. Lukewarm by this point, but he was in no position to complain. He splashed a bit on his face, rubbed himself with a hand towel, then repeated the entire process after a quick glance in the mirror revealed that he’d barely scratched the surface of his disrepair.

“We shall have to remedy that, Grimsby,” Thomas said, giving his forehead a good scrub. He looked back at his valet with a sarcastic grin. “Do you think you can memorize the hue for the next time we are in London?”

“Might I suggest, your grace, that you consider not subjecting your face to such abuse again?” Grimsby handed him another towel, even though Thomas had not requested one. “This would eliminate our need to consider the color when choosing your wardrobe for the upcoming year.” He held out a bar of soap. “You could still purchase a new waistcoat of the color, if you wish. I imagine the shade would be most handsome when displayed upon fabric, as opposed to one’s skin.”

“Elegantly said,” Thomas murmured. “It almost didn’t sound like a scolding.”

Grimsby smiled modestly. “I do try, your grace.” He held forth another towel. Good gad, Thomas thought, he must be more of a mess than he’d thought.

“Shall I ring for a bath, your grace?”

The question was purely rhetorical, as Grimsby had already done so before the your in your grace. Thomas stripped off his clothing, which Grimsby then picked up with tongs, and donned his dressing robe. He flopped onto his bed, and was seriously considering postponing the bath in favor of a good nap when a knock sounded at the door.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.