Page 140 of The Lord Meets His Lady
Painting the mural to please Lord Bowles…
Tending the garden and the horses with him…
Her face crumpled.
Head cocked, Lily set the buckets by the cistern. “Ma’am? Are you ill?”
“I’m fine,” she snapped.
The maid’s eyes rounded.
“I’m sorry, Lily.” Righting herself, Genevieve set the basket on the table. “I’m no woman of quality. The sooner I remember where I belong, the better.”
“You’d make a fine lady if given the chance, ma’am.”
“Humph.Better that I remember who I am.” She removed her cloak and draped it across the bench. “Your brother’s here.”
Keeping busy, she gathered blank papers and set them down beside an inkpot. Unfolded letters scattered the surface. Lord Bowles would eat and tend his correspondence in quiet. The sooner she shut herself away in her room, the better. One letter caught her eye. The foolscap lay open for all to see with damning words stabbing her heart.
We found a bride for you.
The sentence burned itself on her brain. Lily chattered on, but Genevieve didn’t hear her. The letter…it came from the Marquis of Northampton, her husband’s brother. Of course his family would want to arrange a suitable bride. A woman with pretty gowns and pretty manners and a family of good social standing. Certainly not someone like her.
Her hand covered her mouth. Was this the reason for his ride to the village? To post a letter to Miss Phoebe Rutherford?
“…and we finished the polishing and dusting.” Lily peered at her. “Are you sure you’re well, ma’am?”
“Fine. I’m fine. You’ll be here tomorrow?”
“Yes, bright and early.” The maid wandered into the scullery, untying her apron. “I’ll get Ruby. She’s upstairs…not sure what she’s doing.”
Genevieve’s vision narrowed on the kitchen doorway. “Oh, I have a good idea. Let me tell her your brother is here.”
She padded quietly up the stairs to the hallway. In the master chamber, Marcus stood by his bed, sifting through papers strewn across the counterpane for lack of a desk. No daylight showed between Ruby’s skirts and her husband’s breeches.
Hot acid churned her stomach.Why didn’t he tell Ruby to leave him alone?
Because she’d wed a charmer, a man ready for a quick tumble. Their marriage was a proposition to save her and satisfy his need for companionship and housekeeping. And last night? Her fingernails dug into her palms. She was the one to initiate sex. Both times. What a fool she was.
This convenient arrangement didn’t stop inconvenient heat crackling inside her.
She knocked thrice on his half-open door. “Pardon me, milord.” Then coolly, “Ruby.”
The maid jumped, dropping the ash bucket, its awful clank jarring. The red tin rolled across the floor.
“Cleaning the ashes is a morning chore,” Genevieve admonished.
“Yes, miss.” Ruby scrambled after the bucket, her eyes large and white.
Genevieve marched inside, frowning at the forgetful use ofmissinstead of the properma’am.
“I was just comin’ to do a quick cleanup before leaving.”
“Yet the pail’s empty. Is it because your hands weren’t where they belonged?”
She was bold as brass…no different than a bawdy woman about to resort to bare-knuckle brawling over a man. The maid grasped the bucket, her awkward swallow visible across the room.
Marcus shot her a reproving glance as he reached for the ash tin. “Let me take that.”
