Page 37 of The Duke's Bartered Mistress

Och, aye, there the beastie was.

For no reason, the feline stood in the center of the carpet in the corridor, staring at the far wall, for fourteen minutes each afternoon. Every afternoon.

Demon halted as well. “What’s over there, laddie?”

Rajah’s left ear twitched.

The lord of the entire manor planted his hands on his hips and argued with a cat. “I ken ye can hear me. Ye just like to ignore me—ignore us all. Even Georgia, and she’s fooking impossible to ignore.” Why was he talking to a cat? “Hey! Rajah. Rajah. Ye want some kippers? A nice lady cat? Anything? What in shitebiscuits is so bloody fascinating about a wall?”

Ahead of him, Mrs. Kettel came bustling down the hall. “Och, ye cannae reason with him, milord.” Her arms were stacked so high with folded linens, he wondered how she could see over them. But when she reached the cat—standing statue-still in the middle of the corridor—she turned sideways and edged around him. “He’s a stubborn one—no’ even the promise of my famous radish-and-oyster pie can tempt him out of his routine.”

“Imagine that,” muttered Demon wryly.

“Och, I can hear sarcasm, milord,” she tsked. “Be a dear and open the linen closet for me, will ye?”

Were there any other barons ordered about by their housekeepers? One corner of his lips curled wryly as he reached for the latch. “Certainly, Mrs. Kettel.”

His tone was so completely devoid of sarcasm that he might as well have been screaming. The little huff she gave behind her stacked linen told him as much.

She bustled into the closet and he found himself holding the door as she slid everything into its place. What was she wearing on her head?

“There!” Wiping her palms against one another, the housekeeper nodded firmly and backed away. “Now ye and Georgia can ruin another set of sheets—but only one more, mind, because the next wash day isnae until next week.”

Demon’s brow rose. She hadn’t sounded judgmental. “Oh. Thank ye?”

“Och, well, the lady offered to change her own bedding, which is adorable because she doesnae have a clue how to tuck a sheet. Why are ye still standing there? Get out of my way, milord, I have a million things to do before dinner.”

Obligingly Demon stepped back, still holding the door, although he eyed her head curiously as he did so. “And may I ask what we are having for dinner?”

After he’d released most of the servants, mealtimes at Endymion had become simpler. He might be the lord, but he ate what the others ate and he liked it fine. During the last week, it had surprised him to learn that Georgia seemed content with the way he dined as well.

He’d never imagined he’d find pleasure from eating and reading in silence…with another person. The idea of someone else intruding on his personal time should have made him itchy, but Georgia…

“Leg of mutton.”

His housekeeper’s comment jerked him from his reverie. “What?”

“That’s what we’re having tonight. Leg o’ mutton. No’ those ridiculous sleeves,” she clarified when he frowned, “but the actual leg of an actual sheep. Why are ye staring at me like that, milord?”

“I’m trying to decide how…well, dangerous said sheep might be.”

She shrugged, sending her ample torso jiggling. “As dangerous as any dead sheep might be.”

“So…?” he prompted.

“No’ verra dangerous? Although, I always said my mother could make a mean lamb curry. If ye didnae drink enough ale with it, ye might find it dangerous—”

“Aye, but I’m wondering, Mrs. Kettel,” he interrupted, “why ye have a helmet on yer head. That’s what led to my question about the dangers of mutton.”

Blinking as if surprised, the woman raised her hand to her head where she was indeed wearing an old Tarleton helmet—sans fur—rather than her usual mop cap. “Bats, milord.”

Demon glanced over his shoulder. Rajah was still standing there, staring at the wall. “Bats, Mrs. Kettel?”

“Aye.” She knocked a fist against the metal. “Confuses their ear whatsis.”

“Echolocation?”

“Ye made up that word.” She shrugged. “Ye can coat yer head in mud, milord, and let it dry. That’ll work as well, but ‘tis messy, and I kenned I’d have to be the one to clean it up. Then I had a brilliant idea: my da’s auld helmet! Works like a charm!”

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