The Bed and the Bachelor (5 page)

Returning belowstairs, she’d been greeted by Mrs. Tremble, who pointed out that there were deliveries from the butcher’s boy and the greengrocer that required checking to make sure they were of good quality and the right weight and measure.

“Ye never know when one of the tradesmen will turn cheat,” the cook advised with a sage nod. Having dealt with her own share of unscrupulous merchants in her time, Sebastianne could only agree.

At supper, in spite of being given a reprieve on overseeing the arrangement of Lord Drake’s meal at table, she’d still been expected to carve the roast joint of beef for the servants. It had proven a daunting experience that had made her hands shake. Apparently, she did well enough, however, quiet with relief as she ate her first evening meal among the staff.

Afterward, she hoped she could retire for the day, but more work awaited. Since she was responsible for the management of the larder and stillroom, it was her job to grind the spices, sift and measure out the sugar, and stone the fruits and raisins, among other tasks. And to her silent dismay, once she had finished with that, there was a large basketful of clothes and linens in need of mending—the fine sewing also her duty to perform.

Leaning her head back as she sat in the housekeeper’s room, she wondered if she had the strength to walk up the four flights of stairs to her bedchamber. Closing her eyes, she let the long, tiring day wash over her, her mind as exhausted as her body.

She came awake with a start some while later, unsure of the time. Peering at the clock on her desk, she saw that it was a few minutes past two in the morning.

She cupped a hand over an eye-watering yawn and she tried to shake off her drowsiness. Unless she wanted to spend the rest of the night in this chair and risk waking up stiff in the morning, she supposed she had best go to her bedroom. A scant few hours remained before she would have to begin a new day and start her duties all over again.

Still, with everyone else slumbering, maybe this would be the perfect time to do a bit of searching?

Dare I try?

Taking up a candle, she made her way silently from the room.

“G
’night, milord,” Morton called quietly from where he sat perched atop the coachbox.

Lifting a hand, Drake gave a friendly wave, then started up the steps to the front door. He listened to the fading clip-clop of the horses’ hooves on the dark, silent street as he slipped his fingers inside his waistcoat. Digging briefly inside its silk-lined pocket, he located the house key he carried for just such occasions and applied it to the lock.

He knew the servants would all be abed since he’d long ago dispensed with the practice of keeping a footman stationed at the door until his arrival. What was the point in making one of them stay up half the night when even he didn’t know what time he would return?

Even Waxman, who was dedicated to a fault, had stopped waiting up for him years ago. Instead, he’d adopted the habit of laying out fresh towels, Drake’s robe and setting a tin of water on the hearth to stay warm for Drake’s use whenever he came in for the evening.

Smothering a yawn, he went inside, then turned to lock the door behind him. The pleasant quiet wrapped around him like a coverlet, cool and dark, the house peaceful in its stillness.

It was just what he wanted after the hot, bright gleam of Vanessa’s town house, with its red silk walls, crystal chandeliers and profusion of gilded mirrors. Then there were the large, ornate cages she kept throughout the house, filled with a variety of chirping yellow canaries and the jewel-toned songbirds that she adored with unabashed affection.

Not that he didn’t enjoy her lush abode, with its comfortable sofas, perfumed sheets and soft feather mattress. Even so, when it came to sleeping, he preferred to do so in his own bed.

“Are you sure you won’t stay the night?” Vanessa had murmured from where she lay against the rumpled bedclothes, her creamy white arms stretched above her head in a way that emphasized the ripe curve of her full, pink-tipped breasts.

He shook his head and reached for the shirt he’d tossed to the floor in a passionate haze not long after his arrival. “It’s late and time I went home.”

“If you prefer.” She stretched like a cat, allowing one of her rounded thighs to shift so that he could easily see everything he was passing up. “Then again, it’s not as if you’ve a wife waiting for you at home. If you let me, I promise I’ll make you glad you stayed.”

He’d laughed and pressed a languid kiss to her palm. “I’m sure you would, since you’ve already made me
glad
several times tonight. But I have work.”

“Yes, your work,” she said in an understanding tone. “I know how important it is to you.”

“You’re right. It is.” He stepped into his trousers, fastening them before taking up his discarded cravat.

Long moments passed in silence, Vanessa reaching to pull the sheet over herself before she reclined once more against the pillows. “You know, Drake, I wonder if there will ever be a woman who is more important to you than your work?”

“Do you?” He raised a considering brow.

“Hmm, yes,” she continued. “I just wonder if the woman exists who could drag you away from all the notions and numbers that dance around in that brilliant head of yours? Someone so special she would have the power to make you forget everything and everyone but her?”

He paused, studying her, aware the question must be an academic one since Vanessa had told him on more than one occasion that she had no interest in a permanent relationship and none whatsoever in marriage. As a wealthy widow, she enjoyed her freedom, in bed and out. It was why the two of them fit together so well. No ties. No strings. Just pleasure and easy, undemanding friendship.

Now she wanted to amuse herself by speculating about some hypothetical great love who would mean the world to him, mean even more to him than his family or his work.

Absurd.

Suddenly, Anne Greenway leapt into his mind. Her shapely figure, gentle smile and rich autumn-hued tresses that looked as if they’d been dusted with gleaming faerie silver beckoned within his imagination.

How curious that he would think of her. How impossible when there could be nothing between them.

Ever.

Giving himself an inward shake, he banished her from his thoughts.

Setting a last knot into his neckcloth, he came back to the bed and leaned over. “Speaking as a mathematician, I would have to say that the odds of my ever being hopelessly in love are slim to none, particularly since I’m not much given to romantic fancy.” Smiling, he kissed her. “Besides, why would I need a woman like that when I have you?”

Clearly appeased, she’d laughed again and flung off the sheet. A few kisses later, she persuaded him to stay just a little while longer after all.

But he was glad to be home again now, glad to know he would be sleeping well sated in his own comfortable, solitary bed. Smothering another yawn, he started toward the staircase.

Just then, he noticed a narrow pool of light gleaming at the end of the hallway and stopped. Who could be awake at this hour? he wondered.

“Hallo?” he called softly. “Who’s there?”

A soft gasp broke the quiet, the candlelight flickering wildly.

Peering through the shadows, he pondered the subtle exclamation. “Mrs. Greenway? Is that you?”

A long pause descended before the brush-brush of leather soles came whispering against the polished floorboards and over the long Aubusson hall runner. Slowly, her figure grew more distinct as she drew nearer, light from the candle she held revealing the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “M-my lord? I d-didn’t realize you had arrived home. You startled me.”

“Then we share the same dilemma since you surprised me as well. What on earth are you doing wandering around the house at this hour?”

An expression that looked curiously like guilt spread over her features before she smoothed it away. “I . . . I . . .”

“Yes?” he drawled, even more intrigued now to hear her answer.

Her eyes gleamed faintly in the mellow light. “I hope you won’t think badly of me, but I fell asleep in the housekeeper’s room downstairs. I only just awakened and was on my way to bed.”

Whatever suspicions had been forming in his head vanished, fresh surprise moving to replace them. “Has your first day been so tiring then? I trust your duties aren’t of such an onerous nature that you cannot find time to retire for the evening?”

“N-no, not at all. The tasks, they are just a bit unfamiliar, you see and . . .” Her voice trailed off, a tiny frown settling across her russet colored brow. “That is to say I am merely learning the rhythm of the house and had much to do. There is no need for concern. I am managing quite ably.”

“I am sure you are, but there is no point in wearing yourself out. In future, you are to retire at a far more reasonable hour since it won’t do having you exhaust yourself. Whatever work remains at day’s end can wait until the morrow, I am certain.”

He smiled, hoping to put her at ease, but her frown deepened.

“As you wish, my lord,” she murmured.

He tucked a hand into one pocket. “And the staff? How are you finding them?”

“Very friendly and hardworking. Everyone is most agreeable.”

“Even Mrs. Tremble?” he asked, wondering how his sometimes-irascible cook was taking to his choice of housekeeper.

Her lips twitched, a good-humored light dancing in her golden gaze. “Especially Mrs. Tremble. She has been of great assistance, just as you said she would be.”

“I am glad to hear it,” he replied.

Silence descended, the darkness enfolding them in a way that made him suddenly aware of just how alone they were and exactly how advanced the hour.

As if aware too, a pink flush warmed his new housekeeper’s cheeks, turning her skin to burnished cream, her eyes shining like twin coins as her mouth beckoned with the softness of rose petals.

Drake stared, unable to look away as he leaned imperceptibly closer.

When he’d arrived home, he’d been sleepy, but now he was wide-awake again.

When he’d stepped out of the coach, his only thought had been to climb into bed and slip into the world of dreams.

But suddenly what he really wished he could slip into was
her.

To his complete consternation, he grew abruptly aroused, his body ready and randy again in spite of the satisfying hours he’d spent in Vanessa’s bed. Tonight’s visit to his mistress was supposed to have rid him of this inexplicable desire he felt for Anne Greenway. It was supposed to have calmed all his lustful needs and put him once again in control, so they would be master and servant and nothing more.

Instead, here he stood, wanting her again with a longing that made him ache, that left him wishing he could set aside the candle she held and sweep her into his arms. Kissing her all the while, he would carry her upstairs to his bed, then proceed to pleasure them both for what remained of the night.

Force of will alone kept him from reaching for her, his hands flexing in frustration at his sides. Abruptly, he took a step away. “It’s late,” he stated in a hard tone, “and we both need our rest. I shall bid you good night.”

She stared before giving a nod, exhaling a soft breath that nearly made him change his mind. “G-Good night, my lord,” she said. “Rest well.”

Hah!
he thought.
I doubt I’ll rest at all.

But he would try, just as he would strive to conquer this unwanted desire he felt for a woman he barely knew and dare not let himself have.

For some men it would have been easy. She was only a servant, after all. She lived in his house and was under his authority, which for many equated to the right to do with her as he liked. But to him, such behavior was unacceptable. Only a brute took advantage of his employees—particularly sexual advantage. And so he would find the means to end this longing, to snuff out his craving with the finality of extinguishing a candle flame.

With a nod he hoped wasn’t too curt, he resumed his original course to the stairs, forcing himself not to look back as he ascended the steps to his bedchamber.

S
ebastianne laid a hand against her breasts and blew out a pent-up breath, relieved that the encounter was over. For an instant at the very start, she’d thought she was caught, worried he knew precisely what she’d been doing in the darkened hallway. Thank heavens she hadn’t had time to actually go into his workroom and start searching, or there wouldn’t have been any doubt. Only imagine if he’d found her rifling through his belongings on her very first night in residence! She’d been lucky, she realized, and would need to take special care in the future so that she wasn’t seen doing anything of an unusual or suspicious nature.

With a sigh, she decided she ought to follow Lord Drake’s example and continue upstairs to bed. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the least bit tired anymore. The shock of happening upon him had sent an electric jolt through her system that had apparently driven away her weariness. It had also caused her heart to gallop with the speed of a Thoroughbred—a reaction not the least bit improved by the intimate proximity in which they’d stood conversing together in the quiet and the dark.