Never Kiss a Rake (Scandal at the House of Russell 1)

The woman brightened slightly. “Would you be wishing to try this, Mrs. Greaves? If I’d known the quality weren’t going to be eating I could have fed it to the staff, but everyone’s eaten a full meal.”

“Thanks to your most excellent cooking I’m sure that the staffis as full as I am. No, I’m bringing it to his lordship.”

“If he’s in a mood he might throw something at you,” Emma said, worry in her voice. “He doesn’t like to be disturbed.”

“I can duck.”

“Allow me carry it for you, Mrs. Greaves,” Collins said. “I expect it’ll be right heavy.” The Irish was coming out now, and Mrs. Harkins was eying him with fascination.

Bryony hesitated, then nodded. “You may carry it to the door for me, but I’ll be the one to bring it in. He’s less likely to chuck something at me than you.”

“I wouldn’t want you to think his lordship is not a good master,” Emma continued earnestly. “You’ll never see him raging like the countess. Sometimes, though, he’s… er… not well when he’s home.”

“Three sheets to the wind, you mean,” Mrs. Harkins snapped, her annoyance with her lord and master overcoming her natural discretion.

“I’d still rather face him in a towering black mood than her ladyship,” Emma said stoutly.

Mrs. Harkins peered at her. “Why, lass, do you have a weakness for his lordship? That’s a very bad idea, that is, and I’d be more worried except that I know Ruby never got anywhere with him, and she just about threw herself naked at his feet to try to get his attention. He doesn’t trifle with those beneath him. So you just get any such foolish notions out of your head. There’s nothing that will lead to disaster surer than thinking you’re in love with the quality.”

Emma had flushed a beet red. “I know my place, Mrs. Harkins.”

“See that you remember it,” the cook said gravely.

Bryony decided it was time to intervene, ignoring the odd pang that had struck her. In truth, it was her place to warn Emma, not the cook’s, but she hadn’t wanted to get involved in any kind of discussion about the Earl of Kilmartyn.

“I think Emma understands your concern, Mrs. Harkins,” she said gently. “And I believe she’s wise enough to know what’s proper in a good servant. She has you for an example.”

They both looked gratified rather than offended, and Bryony breathed a silent sigh of relief. While she’d dealt with staff issues, their own housekeeper had handled tricky situations like this one, so Bryony simply had to rely on her instincts. Then again, she’d had plenty of practice with her argumentative sisters.

The heavy silver covers were set on the tray, and Collins picked it up. “If the sight of such a magnificent meal makes his lordship violent then I vote we put him on a diet of bread and water.”

Mrs. Harkins blushed prettily at the compliment. “Happen he might prefer it.”

“Never, my dear Mrs. Harkins,” he said, and the lady practically beamed.

They moved through the hallways at a calm, decorous pace. At one point Collins spoke. “Should I have brought a bottle of wine, Mrs. Greaves?”

“He drinks too much already,” she said tartly.

A moment’s silence. “Is there anything else you should acquaint me with concerning his lordship?”

Bryony sighed. Discretion was one thing; necessary knowledge was another. “I imagine you’ll have to help him to bed, though as yet I don’t know how often. There have been a number of comments that have led me to believe this is a fairly common occurrence. As you’ve doubtless noticed, the earl and the countess do not share a room, or even a floor. You have yet to meet her ladyship, but I suggest you be wary.”

“Is she truly the tartar they suggest she is?”

Bryony instinctively shrugged, then froze as she remembered that a proper housekeeper is not likely to shrug, or to have such conversations with her underlings. Fortunately Collins was concentrating on his passage through the halls without knocking over any of the delicately balanced silver cutlery and he hadn’t noticed.

Bryony considered her words. “I’ve dealt with her ladyship twice, and I would call her high-strung, perhaps. She doesn’t like me much, but I don’t think she’d have anything against you.”

He nodded. “So I am to assume his lordship and his wife do not get along?”

Bryony thought about it. ?

??He was nothing but charming toward her, even as he overruled her when she was not entirely enthusiastic about taking me on. He did threaten to move out if she didn’t capitulate, but that was simply a joke. I can’t imagine a man turning his back on her.” For some reason she found that thought intensely depressing. She should be used to it by now.

Her mother had made it clear—the only value a woman had was her beauty. Once Bryony had lost hers at age twelve she became worthless in her mother’s eyes, a useless appendage to a wealthy family. Her mother had forced any number of cosmetic treatments on her, from cold buttermilk compresses to steam baths, but nothing helped. The cosmetics her mother had insisted upon cracked the first time Bryony had laughed, and her mother had slapped her, the brittle stuff crumbling beneath her hand.

She could still remember her mother’s words. “You may find this amusing but I don’t. You’re a leper, and you’re doing nothing to improve things. You’ll have no choice but to stay hidden away like some mad relative, out of sight and out of mind. People won’t be able to bear the sight of you.”