Page 25 of A Cinderella to Redeem the Earl
She had not dined with His Lordship again, though she had served him and Monsieur Phillippe dinner in the drawing room twice since that first evening.
She glanced at the kitchen clock as it struck four. At any moment, she would hear carriages on the drive and the house would be full again. Today she had made a suet pudding with beef and kidneys and all kinds of vegetables as well as fresh bread and a treacle tart for dessert.
Albert loved her sweet desserts, as did most of the others, and Dart spared no expense to keep his household happy. Lord Dart was unusually solicitous about the welfare of his servants, she had noticed. And they were all devoted to him. Never a complaint or a cross word had she heard from any of them. Was that his way of ensuring they kept his secrets?
The sound of horses and wheels on gravel wafted through the window. She checked her cap and apron. All neat and tidy. Not that His Lordship ever noticed her appearance, since he entered the house by the front door. She made her way outside into the stable courtyard to greet the arrivals.
‘My dear Mrs Lamb,’ Albert said. He was always the first to step down. ‘You are looking well.’ He, on the other hand, was looking anxious.
‘Is something wrong?’
‘Betsy took off this morning. She said her ma was sick and she had to go tend to her. Then Giles twisted his ankle and had to be left behind. So I’m short-handed. We can manage without one, but two will be difficult. I’ll have to leave one of the tables empty. It would have to be Betsy. She’s always very popular with the punters.’
The other servants were climbing out of the carriages and heading into the house.
‘Now what?’ Albert said, glancing behind him. ‘Lord have mercy. Meg, what the devil is wrong with you?’
Meg was bent double, her hand pressed to her stomach with one of the other girls hanging over her.
‘It’s her monthlies,’ the other girl said. ‘Always takes her bad.’
‘Shut your mouth, Sukey,’ Meg said. ‘I’ll be fine. I just got rattled about in that there box on wheels.’
Albert looked grim. ‘Hurry along then. Lots to do before dinner. Sukey, you will have to take on Betsy’s work.’
The girl, Sukey, looked back over her shoulder from where she was bent over Meg. ‘And this ’un’s, too, I should ’spect.’ She didn’t sound happy. ‘I’ll do me best, Albert, but you should’ve brought another girl.’
‘’Ow could I get another girl, when I didn’t know I was going to be missing one? I ain’t a bloody mind-reader.’
‘Can’t I help?’ Pamela said, feeling sorry for him and for Sukey. Over the past few weeks she had learned that His Lordship was a stickler for everything being just so for his guests and the staff never wanted to let him down. They really cared about his good opinion.
Albert blinked. ‘You’ve got your own work to take care of, Mrs Lamb.’
‘My work is all done. Everything is prepared. I can do nothing more until after you have eaten and, even then, the cleaning up can easily be left until tomorrow.’
Sukey left Meg, who, arms wrapped around her waist, plodded her way up the steps into the house, and came back to Albert. ‘I can manage the extra rooms, Albert, truly I can, but why not let her help at the tables tonight. The punters will like a new face to flirt wiv, you know they will. You know how His Lordship hates an empty table.’
This last apparently clinched the matter for Albert. ‘All right, but you will have to help Mrs Lamb dress. Hopefully you can find a good costume.’
The parties at Rake Hall were always masquerades.
‘Ooh, perfect,’ Sukey said. ‘You and me will have a quick bite, Mrs Lamb, then I’ll take you up to the dressing room.’ Sukey put her arm through Pamela’s and they walked inside. ‘I am sure we have something to fit.’
‘Teach her how to deal the cards, too, Sukey.’ Albert called after them.
Pamela felt a smidgeon of doubt, a slight sinking feeling in her stomach. She had never attended a masquerade. Father hadn’t thought them at all proper for a young lady. But then, she wasn’t a young lady any more. Nor was she ‘attending’. She would be safely behind a card table.
Damian glanced around the ballroom. Everything was as it should be. Guests floating around in masks and outlandish costumes, this week’s theme was set in Versailles under Louis XIV, the Sun King. The tables buzzed with the rattle of dice boxes, the chink of tokens and coins, and the cries of winners and losers. Masquerades were always popular among theton. For some reason they liked dressing up. As usual, he wore a mask as a nod to the event, but kept to his usual black evening coat. It made it easier for his guests to find him, should they have need.
One of the tables seemed particularly crowded. A cheer went up and he strolled over to see what was holding his guests’ interest.
The woman dealing cards wore an elaborate grey powdered wig, a gold mask that covered her face from her forehead to her lower cheeks and a gown of gold tissue that skimmed the rise of her breasts. She shimmered under the light of the chandelier above her head.
Her hands handled the cards with a graceful elegance and skill he had never seen among any of his ladies. Her smile, a mysterious curve of full lips, emphasised by the small black spot at their corner, seemed to hold the gentlemen at the table completely enthralled as she encouraged them to risk their chips.
Vingt-et-un was always one of the most profitable games and, judging by the chips at her elbow and the growing pile of vowels, tonight would be even better than usual.
As she glanced up and the lovely grey eyes regarded him briefly, the breath left his chest in a rush. What the devil was Mrs Lamb doing dealing cards?
