“Miss Haviland’s sent over extra uniforms from her house. I’m to stay here and manage some of the cooking, and there’ll be a couple of footmen, including that cheeky Baxter. You’ll have to keep an eye on him—he’ll have your skirts over your head in five minutes flat if he’s a mind to it.”
Maddy blinked. “What am I to do? Not about Baxter—I can handle him. I mean, what am I supposed to do in the house?”
Polly surveyed her critically. “I guess that depends on Miss Haviland and why you’re in this bed?”
“I fainted. Presumably someone carried me up here, but no one wanted to go all the way up to the attics. There are bats,” she said darkly.
“Of course there are. There are always bats in the attics. The footmen will get rid of them.”
Maddy brightened. “Will they be staying here too? There’s not much room up there—it’s full of broken furniture.”
“They’ll get rid of that as well. Miss Haviland says she’s coming to inspect things and she’ll decide who sleeps where. So if you’re wanting to get the bath they said you could have then I’d get a move on.”
“Who said I could use the bathing room?”
“That Mr. Quarrells did. I like him, even if he’s a deviate. Never did me no harm, and he always has a kind word for t
he servants.” Polly gave her an impatient glance. “And I have to put this bedroom back in order or my mistress will have the kind of questions I don’t want to be answering.”
Maddy scrambled out of bed, swaying for a moment when her bare feet hit the floor and then memory flooded through her. He’d carried her up here, the captain had, with his gentle, calloused hands and his hard, warm body. He’d kissed her—oh, God, he’d kissed her, again and again, and then he…
Her breasts grew tight, hot with the almost physical memory of his hands on them, his mouth on them. His hand between her legs. He knew she was lying, and yet he’d let her go last night, when she wasn’t even sure she’d wanted him to.
Luca. His name was Luca, a Romany name to go with his gypsy looks. No wonder thinking of him as Thomas Morgan had felt so wrong. He was Luca.
“I’ve already drawn you a bath, and your new uniform is in there as well. Best hurry.”
There were some things worth any kind of risk, and a bath was one of them. She wasn’t going to waste another minute. At Nanny Gruen’s cottage bathing had been a laborious experience, and during the time the three sisters let rooms in London they’d had to make do with sponge baths.
It took her a moment to yank off her shift and slip into the warm, rose-scented water. She slid down, feeling her long hair flow around her, and closed her eyes, giving herself just long enough to embrace the warmth and calm. And then she went to work, scrubbing and rinsing her hair, washing every part of her body twice. She leaned her back against the cooling copper of the tub, ready to steal another short moment of peace, when she heard the unmistakable sounds of Gwendolyn Haviland approaching the end of the hallway.
“I ’aven’t gotten to the back bedrooms and the bathing room, miss,” Polly was saying.
“That’s all right—if I’m going to be mistress of this house I need to observe the amenities.”
Maddy was already out of the tub, as silent as she could be, wrapping herself in one of the heavy pieces of Turkish toweling that had been provided. She couldn’t decide which was worse, standing there naked with her hair braided or dressed with a curtain of wet hair dampening the ugly new uniform that had been provided.
It wouldn’t matter. If Gwendolyn Haviland opened that door she was ruined, and there’d be no chance of finding out the truth. To be sure, despite his wickedness, the longer she was around the captain the less sure she was. He didn’t seem like the kind of man for betrayal and murder. But she needed proof.
“There’s been a bit of damage back here, Miss Haviland.” Polly was doing her best to distract her mistress, but Gwendolyn was single-minded. “The bathing room’s a mess.”
“Then I need to see that as well, so that I can make arrangements for its repair.”
“Certainly, miss,” Polly said stoutly. “As long as the rats don’t trouble you.”
She could practically hear Miss Haviland come to a sharp halt. “Rats?” she said in horror. “This house is infested with rats?”
“Oh, no, miss. Just the bathing room. The little buggers crawled up the pipes and they’ve been trapped in there, chewing away at everything.” Polly was clearly getting into her tale of rodent invasion. “There are bats as well,” she added helpfully.
“Good God,” Miss Haviland said. There was a long pause. “Still, I think I should see it…”
Unfortunately Maddy had instinctively pulled the plug when she’d climbed out of the tub, and as the last of the water began to swirl down the drain it made a loud, rasping, sucking noise.
“What’s that noise?” Miss Haviland demanded.
“The rats,” Polly replied. “They’re bigger’n cats, Mr. Quarrells told me.”
Maddy had fallen back against the wall, the towel clutched to her naked body in a useless effort to hide herself. If Miss Haviland took one step farther, opened the door, then there’d be no saving the situation, and Polly might very well pay the price as well.