The Traitor's Wife by Allison Pataki

Author:Allison Pataki [Pataki, Allison]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Historical, Romance
ISBN: 9781476738604
Amazon: 1476738602
Barnesnoble: 1476738602
Goodreads: 18143995
Publisher: Howard Books
Published: 2014-02-11T06:00:00+00:00

“IF WE’RE to succeed,” Peggy whispered, leaning her forehead against the cold windowpane, her breath clouding the glass as she exhaled, “we can’t have him thinking that he’s betraying his country. No, his character would never abide such a thing. But rather, we must convince him that it is his country that has already betrayed him. If the break has already been made, he commits no wrong.”

Clara hesitated in the doorway, watching as her mistress spoke to herself, alone in the empty bedroom.

“Begging your pardon, Miss Peggy?” Clara knocked on the wooden door.

“Oh, Clara.” Peggy turned to face her maid, her large belly protruding out from under the shape of her dressing gown. “I didn’t see you there.”

“The hot water is ready. Would you still like your bath?” Clara shifted her weight, struggling against the oppressive load of the pails of water.

“Yes, come in.” Peggy opened the front of her gown and dropped it to the floor, standing before Clara in her brazen nakedness. Clara blushed at the immodesty, even after years with Peggy. “I’m so large I’ll probably float in the water,” Peggy grumbled as she stepped laboriously into the tub. “Hurry up and pour it in. I’m freezing.”

Clara tipped the first bucket, splashing her mistress with the warm water she’d hauled from the kitchen fire. Then she poured the second bucket, and the third, and the fourth, hurrying up and down the stairs with the heavy loads that gave her an ache in her back.

“Now bring me my soaps,” Peggy ordered once the tub was full, lapping the water onto her face.

“Which flavor would you like, miss? Bayberry? Lemon?”

“Wildflower.” Peggy demanded the one bar that Clara didn’t already have in her hands. Clara found the soap in Peggy’s dresser and slid it into her mistress’s wet hands.

“Ahhhh, this is nice.” Peggy slipped down into the water, submerging her head under the surface. The room around them filled with the floral fragrance of the steamy tub—the bedroom windows fogged with condensation, and the air filled with the balminess of a Turkish bath. Clara had to admit it was a nice contrast to the rest of the drafty cottage.

She heard a stirring below, and the voice of Major Franks ordering the horses to halt. When the front door opened downstairs, Barley erupted in excited yelps.

“Hello? My Peg?” A familiar, thunderous voice rang out from below the floorboards.

“Benny’s home,” Peggy gasped, sitting upright in the bathtub. “Benny, I’ll be right down,” Peggy yelled. Then, turning to Clara, “No, I’ve got a better idea. Clara, go tell my husband that I’m in the bath and I’m waiting for him.”

“Will you dress first, my lady?” Clara assumed, fetching the muslin dressing gown off the hook.

“No. Tell my husband that I would like him to join me in the bath.”

“In the bath?” Clara did not attempt to mask her embarrassment.

“That’s what I said, Clara.”

Clara descended the stairs and entered the drawing room, where she found a red-faced, frozen Arnold poking the fire in a desperate attempt to coax some additional heat from its embers.

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