Corey McFadden (17 page)

If she did nothing else for the rest of her life, this alone would doom her to perdition. Her hands had a life of their own, and she could not will her eyes shut. She held his soapy, warm shoulder with one hand to steady herself, while with her other hand she rubbed his back with the cloth, up and down, back and forth. She rubbed it against his neck and shoulders gently, aware how sore he must be from the fever and headaches, then trailed it down into the water, forcing herself to stop at the small of his back. He felt hard and strong beneath her hands. And all the while she soaked up the sight of him, fascinated that the male body could be so beautiful.

Almost without thinking, she put the cloth aside and began to knead the soreness from his shoulders and back. She had strong, agile hands from her years on horseback and working with horses, and she could feel him relax against the pressure. It seemed remarkable to her that such a strong, well-shaped man could have skin which felt so soft to the touch, bronzed and unblemished.

“Ah, that feels wonderful, Mike. It feels as if you are kneading the poisons out of my system.”

Radford sighed as he sat back and reached around for the washing cloth. Maude handed it to him and sank to her stool in a daze. She was aware that her hands were shaking and hoped he would not notice. She watched from behind as he lifted each leg and washed it. He soaped his chest and under his arms, then his hands, and the cloth slipped from sight beneath the soapy water. Her breathing was ragged and she feared she might faint. The room was so warm now, so very, very warm, and wet....

“How about another bucket, one last rinse?”

The earl’s voice startled her out of her reverie and she reached automatically for the second pail sitting on the hearth, pouring into it some of the hot water from the kettle hanging over the fire, mixing and testing it to be sure it would not scald him. Then, gently, slowly, she poured it over his head and shoulders while he rinsed away the last traces of soap.

“That’s good, lad, now hand me a towel for my head.”

Maude picked up one of the towels and handed it to him. He unfolded it and towel-dried his head, draping it across his shoulders when he had finished.

“I guess I’m ready to get out, although I feel like I could soak in here forever.”

And I could watch you forever, thought Maude, surprising herself with the heat of her sentiment.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to help me to stand. I suppose I’m still wobbly,” he said.

And then she was next to him, supporting his warm, wet, slippery arm while he stood slowly in the tub. Still, she kept slightly to his rear, reaching around behind her for the other towel. She shook it from its folds and began to towel him off, standing on tiptoe to reach his broad back. Her hands felt hot, as if they had been burned.

“All right, I’ll finish drying off. Get my dressing gown for me. Mrs. Formby is probably right about catching a chill.”

The earl took the towel from her casually, unaware that for her the earth was spinning off its axis. She turned and picked the robe up from its rack by the fire, shaking it out and turning it so that it was spread open and ready for him to step into. She turned back.

He had stepped from the bath and was facing her, the second towel discarded at his feet. With the first, he rubbed his head, oblivious to Maude who stood stock-still and stared open-mouthed at what she saw. His arms were raised, showing off a broad, muscled chest. His belly was flat, A dark line trailed from his navel to a point where dark, curling hair covered him below. Then her eyes found what she dared not look at. She bit back a gasp and raised the dressing gown so that her face was hidden behind it.

Strangling on her own breath, her mind worked to calm her down, while heat spread down through her belly and into her loins. She did not understand the feeling; she had never felt this heat before. She was mortified and confused, and she could not remember how to breathe. He was so beautiful, like a Greek god, and she felt like a mortal in an ancient myth who had spied on him in his bath. She almost expected lightning to strike....

Instead, she felt him slip one arm and then another into the dressing gown that she unwittingly held ready, and pull it closed around him.

“I think I’ll sit up for a bit and work on my correspondence for a while.” He walked to his desk, tying the sash around the dark silk gown. “You may tell Mrs. Formby the bath may be cleared now and the bed linens changed. Tell her I shall not dress and come down today, so there need be no bother about meals.” He sorted through the letters she had stacked on his desk, pausing to lift one, blue and scented, to his nose. A smile curled his lips.

“That will be all, Mike.”

She was dismissed.

Chapter Ten

“Ha! I’ve got you!” the boy slammed the card down on top of Radford’s and took the last trick. He sat back against the bedpost with a self-satisfied grin. “I think you will have to agree, will you not, my lord, that I am, indeed, a most superior card player?”

He considered Mike very carefully, through half-lidded eyes, like a cat, waiting at a mouse hole.

“I am wondering just where you learned to play, boy. You handle cards like a gypsy.”

In answer, the boy swept the cards into a pile and began a very sophisticated shuffle, rapid and precise. He smiled. “You mean like this, my lord?”

“Yes, exactly. Very sharp. No gentleman of my acquaintance would dare show such facility, although one, now that I think of it, has something of the same style, if not quite the level of skill.”

Lord Radford sat back against his pillows. Odd, how the boy’s handling of cards put him in mind of the Duke of Sommesby. An unpleasant, nagging thought. Certainly the two could not be less alike, the one open-faced, cheerful, clever, and kind, the other sour, superficial, and mean. He stared at the boy, not seeing him, a hard look on his own face, wrapped in his thoughts.

“Are you displeased, my lord?” At once the boy seemed to fold in upon himself, his cockiness withering before Radford’s eyes. “I would never cheat at cards, my lord,” the lad said softly. “Please do not think amiss of me for my skill. It is only for amusement. I learned to play from my—my master. He was a gentleman, but I admit he learned these tricks from less reputable types. Or so he said. We used to play in the afternoons, just for fun.”

Mike looked up at him, obviously fearful that he had offended his better by winning so handily, when, in fact, he had just had a lucky run. Perhaps it had never occurred to the boy until now that the earl might be one of those types who could not bear to lose, even with no real wager at stake, particularly to a social inferior.

Radford stared at Mike for a moment, thinking through what he had just said, then a slow grin spread over his face. “I am not in the least displeased. In fact, I am quite intrigued. And as for cheating, of course you would not cheat. Because if you did, I would catch you at it, and then I should horsewhip you from here to Staffordshire. You needn’t be a gentleman to play an honorable game.”

“That’s just what my un—my master said. But,” he could not resist adding, “you would not catch me at it. He taught me sleight-of- hand, and a few other tricks for fun. You could never spot it, unless you knew what to look for. He told me he learned the tricks himself so that he could spot when he was being cheated.  He played...deep.  At one time....” The boy trailed off.

“I see.” Radford regarded Mike seriously. “I should like to see how these tricks are done. Would you show me?”

“Well...” the boy seemed embarrassed. “I can... but, you see, I did promise my master, on the Bible, that if I ever did show anyone, I would make that person promise, in turn, that he would never actually use these tricks to cheat. Of course,” he added hurriedly, before his employer could take offense, “you would never do such a thing, I am sure. But, you see, while it’s great fun and entertaining, in the wrong hands, these tricks could be used quite dishonorably. Not that you would ever do that...that’s not at all what I mean! But I promised...Oh bother!” Mike looked up at him, defiant and miserable, clearly expecting to be clouted on the ear.

Instead, Radford laughed at the boy. “I should be insulted to my noble soul, monkey, but you are quite right. A promise is a promise, regardless of the circumstances. And your, ah, master is a man after my own heart.” He grew serious as he regarded the boy. “These tricks can, indeed, be dangerous, in fact, deadly, in the wrong hands. All right...” He held up his right hand. “I, Edward, ninth Earl of Radford, do solemnly promise I will never use these tricks I am about to be shown, for any but honorable purposes.” He put his hand down. ‘There, boy, does that satisfy your sense of duty? I haven’t a Bible to hand, but my word is good, as a peer of the realm, I assure you. Goes back to King Arthur, or some such thing, I can never remember....”

The boy giggled.  He was really so young and yet so wise. The cards began their whirlwind dance in his gifted hands. “All right now, my lord, watch closely....”

* * * *

Maude sat quietly on the edge of the chair in front of Mrs. Formby’s desk, and listened to the good woman drone on and on about the rigorous duties and standards of conduct that were required of the valet to the ninth Earl of Radford. The housekeeper allowed as how she and the earl were extremely pleased with Mike’s performance during the household epidemic. But she hoped Mike was cognizant of the honor and great condescension on the part of the earl in taking on an untried boy in this most intimate and exalted of household positions, if only as a temporary measure until Brooks could return. The discretion alone was more than would ever normally be asked of a fourteen-year-old. Oh, was Mike fourteen? Mrs. Formby could not quite remember his age. Yes, fourteen, quite. Brooks’ absence was most unfortunate under these trying circumstances, but Mike could use this sterling opportunity to better himself.

Mrs. Formby went on and on, something now about neckcloths and how impeccable they must be. Maude could barely hear her. Valet to Lord Radford! It was too preposterous, too impossible! She should never have allowed herself to become so friendly with him. How on earth would she manage to be at his beck and call, in his bedchamber at all hours, sleep in the small dressing chamber adjoining. She would be privy to his most intimate moments, perhaps even share his thoughts, bathe him....An image of him naked flared up in her mind, blotting out even the distant drone of Mrs. Formby’s instructions. Maude was aware of the tightening in her loins and the catch in her breath as the warm, wet memory washed over her.

His most intimate moments... A small smile curved her lips as she contemplated the joy of the simple bath. And there would be other joys as well. They could play cards, they could talk, he could tell her about his clubs and his engagements. She could be with him, enjoy his company, unrestricted by the usual restraints which bound men and women in this society, and made each such a colossal bore to the other. She could have him to herself in quiet moments. Almost like a wife. And yet... not a wife, never a wife. Never anything but a servant, to be forgotten as soon as the door shut behind him, a male servant at that.

She felt herself fall back to earth, aware now that she had been fantasizing like a naive schoolgirl. What on earth was the matter with her? The mere sight of the man undressed had undone years of proper upbringing, and now she was sitting here tingling at the thought of being allowed to bathe him!

And her drifting comfortably by, day to day, pretending that everything was just fine and would work itself out eventually was ridiculous. She was getting deeper and deeper into her lie, and it would be all the harder to pull herself out of it.

Obviously, she could not simply announce to Mrs. Formby that she suddenly recollected she was really a female, and could she be a parlormaid, please.

Nor could she go to Radford with the truth, for he would be bound legally to send her home to her proper guardian, no doubt horrified and angry to have been dragged into the seamy, private nastiness of his country neighbors. That he might conceivably protect her, allow her to stay with him was impossible. She was underage. Her uncle was her legal guardian. No court of equity would recognize her desire not to marry her stepcousin as grounds to dissolve a guardianship. Radford might be accused of kidnapping, or worse, debauchery of a minor. He would have no right to keep her from her proper home, regardless of her wishes. English common law would protect the rights and comfort of the male heir with every ounce of ink on the statute books. The female heir was chattel to be disposed of neatly and according to the rules. And chattel had no feelings worth considering.

There was only one alternative and it had been before her nose all along. She would go to Eddie with the truth. If he could have gotten her a job as a serving boy without references, perhaps he could get her a job as a serving maid. If she could get into a decent household on a legitimate footing as a female, she might be able to work her way up to a position of responsibility. It would not be much of a life for Miss Maude Romney of Romney Manor, but she could think of no other way out. Well, for now she would listen carefully and act the part of the solicitous valet and then at the first opportunity she’d be off to Eddie. She turned attentively to Mrs. Formby.

“Now, his lordship is extremely particular about his boots....”

Chapter Eleven

This was a nasty situation. It was dangerous and Maude was frightened. That he was cheating was very obvious. But what could she do about it? If she called him on it, he would deny it, no doubt. He was likely to fight her for the insult, and she could not risk fisticuffs. It was bad enough being a girl, but this Tom, head footman to the Duke of Sommesby, was full grown, a head taller and probably slightly more than twice Maude’s weight. She could cheat and no doubt do it more skillfully than he, but she recoiled at the thought of actually cheating in a real game, even if it were to get even with another cheater. They had played only a few hands and already he had gathered in a decent pile of ill-gotten winnings. Eddie looked grim. These games were serious for boys who earned next to nothing for a month’s work. Maude herself had little enough to lose, although it was clear that the Earl of Radford was a far more generous employer than the Duke of Sommesby.