The Nightingale Legacy (Legacy 2)

“Good morning, ladies,” he said, nodding to each of them. “Are you enjoying your breakfast?”

“Everything is delicious, North,” Caroline said, and grinned shamelessly at him. “Polgrain has even presented himself three times to ensure that everything meets with our collective approval. Shall I pour you some coffee?”

He nodded and took his plate to the sideboard. He could but gawk at the lavish array of dishes presented. Polgrain had outdone himself and North wondered why. The kippers looked delicious, as did the bacon. The scrambled eggs looked fluffier than high summer clouds, the toast and muffins were golden brown, and the pots of butter and jam looked rich and creamy. Goodness, there were even nutty buns.

He turned to see Caroline giggling beside him. “You’re wondering why everything looks so good, aren’t you? You expected dog meat and pigeon droppings.”

“How did you do it?”

“I told Coombe to tell Polgrain that if the breakfast wasn’t worthy of a viscount’s establishment, I would have the three pregnant ladies come help him in his kitchen because, obviously, he didn’t know how to cook properly. I thought Coombe would smash me over the head with that hideous Chinese vase in the drawing room, but he contained himself.”

“He is a man with self-control, thank God.”

Suddenly, she lowered her eyes to the scrambled eggs. She scuffed the toe of her slipper against the edge of the Aubusson carpet.

He snaffled the biggest nutty bun on the well-polished silver tray, looking all the while at her from the corner of his eye, and said in a voice he hoped was seductive enough to melt the butter on his nutty bun, “I missed you this morning. I had definite very interesting plans for the use of your fair person when I woke up. There is so much of you that hasn’t yet received a fair amount of my attention.” He sighed deeply. “You shouldn’t have left me. According to the book I was studying last night, Caroline, it simply isn’t the done thing to leave your new spouse before he wakes up. It makes him feel inadequate, you see, as if he must have failed to please you on the wedding night, and thus you’ve left him alone to question his technique endlessly and wonder just how badly he performed.”

Her head had snapped up and her mouth was open by the time he came to a polished halt.

“You’re making that up, North Nightingale!”

“Not a bit of it. Have you eaten, Caroline?”

“Yes,” she said. “Now, I must help my ladies move into their bedchambers. Oh dear, I sat in your chair. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.” She was hauling away her plate and silverware, and he was just laughing at her, standing there, his plate in his hand, laughing.

“Hush,” she said over her shoulder. “You’re giving our guests a very poor opinion of me.”

“Oh no, Miss Caroline,” Alice said. “I couldn’t have imagined a lady enjoying herself with a gentleman.”

That was a stopper, but just for a moment. Miss Mary Patricia patted Alice’s hand, and Caroline said briskly, “Now, let me show you to your rooms. They’re really quite nice.”

North called out to her, “It also said in my book that to leave the new spouse immediately after breakfast also puts him in danger of serious self-doubt.”

She refused to let him dangle her about any longer, even though he did it splendidly. How could he ever have believed he was dour and dark and brooding? She moved closer to him, out of hearing of Miss Mary Patricia, Alice, and Evelyn. “Oh, I asked Tregeagle about the monster’s face in my window last night. I looked him straight in the eye and put it to him.”

“Ah.”

“He didn’t twitch a muscle, but still, he’s had many years to perfect a show of innocence.”

“Tell you what, let me check around and then I’ll put it to Polgrain and Coombe.”

“Good luck,” she said in a gloomy voice. “They’re very good, North, very good indeed.”

“But you’ve thrown them, Caroline.”

She cocked her head to one side.

“Aren’t there now four ladies living at Mount Hawke?”

She gave him a wicked grin. “What will they say when the female maids arrive?”

“I don’t know and I don’t look forward to hearing it.”

Two hours later, North was sitting in a huge wing chair in the library, Caroline on his lap, more or less, and he was playing with her toes. One silk stocking was lying discarded on her chest. “If you were in a more amenable position I could nibble on your toes. I’ll bet they taste like lavender.”

“I told Timmy the maid to pour lavender in my bathwater. He stood there and stared at me and then grinned this big toothy grin and poured out enough to bathe an elephant. You saw the bottle, didn’t you?”

“It was nearly empty.” He lowered her foot to his lap and examined it. “It looks as if your foot has healed all right. I was scared of that damned blister. You must be careful. I knew a boy in the army whose boots were too tight and he got a blister. He didn’t pay any attention to it and not five days later he was dead.”