Scandalous Desires (Maiden Lane #3)(73)

A bachelor establishment? What odd phrasing. Winter pasted a polite smile on his face and bowed to the silly woman. “Of course, Lady Penelope.”

He opened the door and watched her and Miss Greaves step inside. Lady Beckinhall was behind them and he cleared his throat as she drew abreast of him.

“I thought not to see you here again, my lady.”

“Had you not?” Her eyebrows arched over mischievous eyes. “But then I’ve decided that the home needs my help, even if you don’t think so, Mr. Makepeace.”

And she swept inside, leaving him to follow her, his eyes narrowed in contemplation.

ALMOST A WEEK later Silence frowned over her knitting. It was always hard to make the heel of a stocking, but this one seemed particularly misshapen. Michael’s carriage gave a bump and began slowing. She glanced out the window and saw that they were turning into a narrow, tree-lined country lane. Lad the dog raised his head at the change in speed. He lay on the floor of the carriage, taking up far too much room.

“Why are we stopping?” she asked. “This isn’t a London inn.”

The last week had been a blur of tedious travel over bumpy roads, interrupted now and again by stops at little inns where the food could vary quite drastically from good to inedible. Each night she’d fallen into a strange bed, exhausted, with Mary Darling snuggled close to her side. She’d woken in the mornings to find Michael already up from whatever bed he’d spent the night in and usually bringing her a pot of tea. He’d been kind and attentive and rather distant, now that she thought of it.

“We’re in Greenwich,” Michael said. “We’re home.”

She looked at him, sitting across the carriage with the baby on his lap, and as always the sight of him made her heart beat faster. “Home?”

He smiled crookedly, but didn’t answer. He wore the same clothes he’d had on when he’d first come for her at Lord Caire’s residence: worn and simple. She was almost used to this more sedate Michael. This Michael who might have been a traveling merchant or prosperous farmer.

What an odd thought. Silence peered out the window to try and find out what “home” was to Michael. The tree-lined lane opened up to a small circular drive in front of a mansion made of warm red brick. Ivy covered one corner, its branches still bare, and a half dozen chimneys rambled over the gabled roofs. Tender green shoots had begun to poke through the soil around the foundation of the house.

Silence looked at Michael in surprise. The mansion was quite lovely, it did indeed look like someone’s “home”—but certainly not a pirate’s.

He gave her a wry glance as if he knew her thoughts. “Come inside.”

He lifted Mary Darling in his arms, practiced now after a week of keeping her entertained in a cramped carriage. He descended the steps and held out a hand to help Silence step down. Lad bounded down from the carriage last, ran to water a tree, and then began running in wide circles.

Silence shook out her skirts and looked up. A short, stout butler had appeared on the front steps to the house, flanked by two young maids and an older woman.

“Good evening, Bittner,” Michael called as they approached the steps.

“Good evening, Mr. Rivers,” the butler replied. His round red face beamed under a snowy white wig. “I trust you had a pleasant journey, sir?”

Silence blinked and glanced at Michael, but instead of correcting the elderly man, he merely nodded. “Pleasant enough. Have you made the arrangements I asked for?”

“Oh, indeed, sir,” Bittner replied. “Mrs. Bittner made sure to procure the very best nursemaids from the village. This is Rose and her younger sister Annie.”

The girls curtsied shyly. The elder one was probably in her early twenties, while the younger was still a teenager. Both were fresh-faced and pretty with striking blue eyes.

“Rose has worked five years in the Johnson family nursery,” Mrs. Bittner cut in eagerly. She was a couple of inches taller than her husband, but just as rosy.

“Indeed?” Michael said.

Mrs. Bittner nodded vigorously. “The Johnsons have seven children, would you believe?”

“Then she should be quite capable of handling one small child,” Michael said. He glanced down at Mary who hid her face shyly in the lapels of his coat. He looked up again and drew Silence closer. “This is my friend Mrs. Hollingbrook. I trust you all will extend every courtesy to her while she is a guest in my home.”

Silence felt a blush creep up her cheeks. Only one kind of woman resided unaccompanied at a bachelor’s house. But she saw no trace of disapproval on the servants’ faces. Indeed, they were quite respectful as they curtsied and bowed.

“Naturally so, Mr. Rivers,” Mrs. Bittner said. “Shall I show Mrs. Hollingbrook to her rooms?”

“Please,” Michael said.

“Come with me, ma’am.”

Mrs. Bittner led her inside. The entry hall was neatly appointed, with wood floors and paneling gleaming with beeswax. Windows to either side of the front door as well as above it let in the late afternoon light, making the space warm and welcoming. A heavy wood staircase to one side of the hall led to the upper floors.

“This way, ma’am,” Mrs. Bittner said as she mounted the stairs.

Silence followed after her, glancing about curiously. Oil paintings decorated the stairs, but they weren’t in what Silence thought of as Michael’s usual style. There were a few landscapes, but the majority depicted sailing ships of all things.