Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels #1)(37)

“Yes, milady.”

As the footman departed, the housekeeper appeared at the threshold. “Lady Trenear,” she said, looking vexed.

“Mrs. Church,” Kathleen said, “I promise, I haven’t forgotten about the washing book or the aprons.”

“Thank you, my lady, but it’s not that. It’s the workmen. They finished plumbing the master bathroom.”

“That’s good news, isn’t it?”

“So I would think – except that now they’ve begun to convert another upstairs room into an additional bathing room, and they must run a pipe beneath the floor of your room.”

Kathleen jumped to her feet. “Do you mean to say there are men in my bedroom? No one mentioned anything of the sort to me.”

“The master plumber and carpenter both say it’s the only way it can be done.”

“I won’t have it!”

“They have already pulled up some of the flooring without so much as a by-your-leave.”

Kathleen shook her head in disbelief. “I suppose it can be tolerated for an afternoon.”

“My lady, they say it will take several days, most likely a week, to put it all back to rights.”

Her mouth fell open. “Where am I to sleep and dress while my bedroom is torn apart?”

“I’ve already directed the maids to convey your belongings to the master bedroom,” Mrs. Church replied. “Lord Trenear has no need of it, since he is in London.”

That did nothing to improve Kathleen’s mood. She hated the master bedroom, the place she had last seen Theo before his accident. Where they had argued bitterly, and Kathleen had said things she would regret for the rest of her life. Dark memories lurked in the corners of that room like malevolent nocturnal creatures.

“Is there any other room I might use?” she asked.

“Not at the moment, my lady. The workmen have pulled up the floors in three other rooms as well as yours.” The housekeeper hesitated, understanding the reason for Kathleen’s reluctance. “I’ll direct the maids to air out a bedchamber in the east wing and give it a good cleaning – but those rooms have been closed for so long that it will take some work to turn it out properly.”

Sighing, Kathleen dropped back to her chair. “Then it seems I’ll have to sleep in the master bedroom tonight.”

“You’ll be the first to try the new copper bathtub,” the housekeeper said, in a tone she might have used while offering a bonbon to a sullen child.

Kathleen smiled wanly. “That is some consolation.”

As it turned out, her bath in the copper tub was so lovely and luxurious that it almost made up for having to sleep in the master bedroom. Not only was it deeper than any bath she’d ever been in before, it was crowned with a full roll edge upon which she could rest her head comfortably. It was the first bath she’d had ever taken in which she could lean back and submerge herself all the way up to the neck, and it was heavenly.

She stayed in the bath for as long as possible, lazing and half floating until the water began to cool. Clara, her lady’s maid, came to wrap her in soft Turkish towels and settle a clean white nightgown over her head.

Covered with gooseflesh, Kathleen went to sit in an upholstered chair by the fire and discovered that her ombré shawl had been draped over the back of the chair. She pulled it over her lap, snuggling beneath the soft cashmere. Her gaze went to the stately bed, with its carved wooden canopy mounted on four elaborately turned posters.

One glance was enough to destroy all the good the bath had done.

She had refused to sleep in that bed with Theo after the debacle of their wedding night. The sound of his slurred, angry voice emerged from her memories.

Do what you’re told, for God’s sake. Lie back and stop making this difficult… Behave like a wife, damn it…

In the morning, Kathleen was exhausted, her sore eyes undercut with dark shadows. Before she went out to the stables, she went to find the housekeeper at the spice cupboard. “Mrs. Church, forgive me for interrupting you, but I’d like to make certain that you’ll have a new bedroom readied for me by this evening. I can’t stay in that master bedroom ever again – I’d sooner sleep in the outhouse with a herd of feral cats.”

The housekeeper glanced at her in concern. “Yes, my lady. The girls have already begun cleaning a room overlooking the rose garden. They’re beating the carpets and scrubbing the floor.”

“Thank you.”

Kathleen felt her spirits improve as soon as she reached the stables. A morning ride always seemed to restore her soul to rights. Entering the saddle room, she removed the detachable skirt of her riding habit and hung it on a wall bracket.

It was customary for a lady to wear chamois or wool breeches beneath a riding skirt, to prevent chafing. But it was not at all proper to wear only the breeches, as Kathleen was doing.

However, she hadn’t yet broken Asad to sidesaddle. She had chosen to train him while riding astride, which would be far safer if the horse tried to unseat her. A picturesque riding skirt, with its masses of flowing fabric, was apt to catch on tack or low tree branches, or even become entangled with the horse’s legs.

Kathleen had felt more than a little embarrassed the first time she had walked out to the paddock in breeches. The stablemen had stared at her with such astonishment that one might have thought she’d walked out there in the altogether. However, Mr. Bloom, who was more concerned with safety than propriety, had instantly given her his approval. Soon the stablemen had grown accustomed to the sight of Kathleen’s unconventional appearance, and now they seemed to think nothing of it. No doubt it helped that her figure was so slight – with her lack of womanly curves, she could hardly be accused of tempting anyone.