Page 19 of Tall, Dark & Wicked
“May I at least inquire as to the direction you’ll be taking today, my lord, in case Lady Cupps-Foster wonders? She does worry.” He held up the shirt, his lips curled in distaste. “This will be cut into rags for the maids to use as soon as you return. I won’t waste soap to have this shirt laundered, let alone mended.”
“You won’t be here; I’m sacking you.” Brendan allowed the valet to place the shirt over his shoulders. “The path from the gate and down to the moors. I’ll be back at tea-time. Can you ask Cook to make sure the sandwiches are a bit more substantial today? I don’t care for watercress and cucumber. I keep mentioning I would like something a bit heartier. Meat of some kind. No one seems to listen. And some berry tarts.”
“Of course, though your mother adores watercress.” Woods made a small sniffling noise as he eyed the wild mane of Brendan’s hair. “Forgive me, my lord. Perhaps you’d allow me to trim your hair before I vacate the premises? Lady Cupps-Foster has expressed to me she’d prefer you not resemble a wild Celt as you roam around. You could frighten someone. And we have guests.”
“I doubt Lady Marsh will have a fit of vapors should she spot an errant curl.”
The ghost of a smile hovered over the valet’s lips. He looked incredibly smug. “I was thinking of Lady Petra.”
Brendan had thought of nothingbutPetra all night, and he didn’t need to be reminded of her presence by Woods. Naked Petra, crawling over him on all fours with her glorious hair draping over them both. He’d awoken in the middle of the night with a groan, his hand gripping his shaft.
“My lord, if I may offer an opinion?” Woods took a look at Brendan’s attire and shook his head in disgust.
“Do I have a choice?” Woods had an opinion on every aspect of Brendan’s life. He was worse than an elderly aunt. Brendan was convinced Woods and his mother were conspiring against him.
“Lady Petra is quite lovely.”
“I’ve not noticed her appearance.”I’m too busy imagining her naked.“Besides, the lady is on her way to Brushbriar at the invitation of Lord Pendleton. I expect an engagement announcement to follow Lady Petra back to London.”
“Poor girl.” Woods snorted. “You tore her clothing like some barbarian.”
“Is that the theme for today, Woods? I’m a barbarian? Or is it a savage Celt? Make up your mind.” At the valet’s pointed look, Brendan said, “She was stuck. What else was I to do?” He ran a hand through his hair, not meeting the valet’s eyes. “Who told you I tore her skirt?”
The valet gave a mysterious shrug.
“Timmons, I suppose?” Brendan asked.
Somerton’s butler and Woods had a close relationship. Brendan suspected there was more to their friendship. Once, Brendan had awoken in the middle of the night, starving. Rather than rouse a servant, he’d gone down to see if there was any chicken in the larder left from dinner, and possibly some tarts. He’d seen Timmons and Woods sitting together before the fire in the kitchen, a single candle lit between them. Just as he was about to announce himself, Timmons had leaned over and kissed Woods rather passionately. Shocked though he was, Brendan had silently backed out of the kitchen, returning to his bedchamber, hunger forgotten. Even servants deserved their privacy and he didn’t particularly care who Woods tupped as long as the valet was discreet, which he was.
“Possibly Timmons relayed the news to me.” Woods began putting away the unused shaving kit. “I’m not sure. The footmen like to gossip.”
Brendan snorted, not believing it was one of the Somerton footmen for one moment. “All the footmen are afraid of me, as you well know. I suppose I’ll have to dismiss Timmons for his insolence as well. Gossiping about me like two old women. Besides, she’s utterly boring,” he lied.
“Who?” Woods pretended ignorance.
“Lady Petra. Talks of nothing but fripperies.”
“Pendleton must not find her so,” Woods said smoothly. “I should point out, my lord, a tic appears in your cheek when you lie.” He carried the shaving kit into the dressing room and a flurry of noises commenced.
“You are quite insolent, Woods.” Brendan headed to the door and lay his hand on the knob.
“Yes, my lord. You’ve mentioned this to me many times.” Woods strode back out and bowed. “I’ll warn Timmons of your displeasure and we’ll collect our things.”
Brendan sighed in frustration and left the room.
8
“The half-boots, Tessie,” Petra instructed her maid. She’d had enough of being inside and this may be her last chance to be free without being hovered over by her mother. Dr. Stubbins had pronounced Mother well enough for the ride to Brushbriar. They would leave Somerton in the morning.
An unusual ache filled her heart at the thought of leaving Somerton. In the short time she’d been here, Petra had grown to love the sprawling, unwieldy mass of stone. Somerton was beautiful in a wild, unkept way, reminiscent of the estate’s owner. Petra liked the silence to be found here, so different from the constant rattling of coaches and people on the streets outside her window in London. The only sound here was that of the wind crossing the moors.
“My lady?” Tessie gave Petra a look. “Your mother said you were to rest today in preparation for your journey tomorrow to Brushbriar.”
Petra shrugged. “I need fresh air and the sun is shining. I’m positive Dr. Stubbins mentioned something to that affect. I’m only going to take a turn about the gardens and then I promise to come rest. Goodness, I didn’t even go down to dinner last night.”
She’dwantedto go down to dinner, but Mother, sitting up in bed and looking pale and tired, had begged Petra to dine with her. After a light supper, Petra had read out loud from a book of poetry at her mother’s request, her reading interrupted every few minutes as Mother reminded Petra of how she must comport herself with Lady Pendleton. Finally, Mother’s eyes had drooped, and Petra had been able to seek her own bed.
She had dreamt of Morwick.
