To Seduce a Sinner (Legend of the Four Soldiers #2)(16)

“Mrs. Cook says that Lord Vale is a very pleasant gentleman to work for. Pays a regular wage and doesn’t shout at the maids as some gentlemen do.” Suchlike shook out the stays and laid them carefully in the big carved wardrobe in the corner.

The viscountess’s rooms in Renshaw House had been closed since Lord Vale’s father had died and his mother had moved to the London dowager residence. But Mrs. Moore, the housekeeper, was obviously a very competent woman. The rooms had been thoroughly cleaned. The bedroom’s honey-colored woodwork was freshly waxed and shining dully, the dark blue and gold drapes had been aired and brushed, and even the carpets looked to have been taken out and beaten.

The bedroom was not overly large but was quite lovely. The walls were a soothing creamy white, the carpets dark blue with spots of gold and ruby patterning. The fireplace was a pretty little thing, tiled in cobalt blue and surrounded by a white woodwork mantel. There were two gilt-legged chairs in front of it with a low marble-topped table between them. On one wall was a door that led to the viscount’s rooms—she looked quickly away from it—on the opposite wall, a door that led to her dressing room, and beyond, a private little sitting room. Now and again, a faint scratching came from the dressing room, but she ignored it. Overall, the rooms were very comfortable and pleasant.

“So, you’ve met the other servants?” Melisande asked to distract herself from staring at Lord Vale’s connecting door like a lovesick ninny.

“Yes, my lady.” Suchlike came over and began taking down her hair. “The butler, Mr. Oaks, is very stern, but he seems fair. Mrs. Moore says she respects his judgment wholeheartedly. There are six downstairs maids and five upper, and I don’t know how many footmen.”

“I counted seven,” Melisande murmured. She’d been introduced to the household this afternoon, but it would take time to learn individual names and duties. “They were all kind to you, then?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am.” Suchlike was silent a moment, taking out the myriad of pins that had held her hair up. “Although . . .”

Melisande watched the little maid in the vanity’s mirror. Suchlike’s delicate brows were drawn together. “Yes?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, ma’am,” she said, then immediately added, “Only that man, Mr. Pynch. There I was being quite polite as Mr. Oaks introduced everyone, and that man Mr. Pynch looked down his nose at me—and a very big nose it is, too, ma’am. I don’t think he should be so awfully proud of it. And he says, ‘Rather young for a lady’s maid, aren’t you?’ in this terribly stuffy voice. And what I want to know is, what business is it of his anyway?’”

Melisande blinked. She’d never seen Suchlike take offense at anyone or anything before. “Who is this Mr. Pynch?”

“He’s his lordship’s man,” Suchlike said. She picked up the brush and ran it through Melisande’s hair with vigorous strokes. “A big oaf of a man, no hair at all on top. Cook said he served with Lord Vale in the Colonies.”

“Then he’s been with Lord Vale for many years.”

Suchlike braided her hair with quick, sure movements. “Well, I think he’s gotten full of himself. A less likable, stuck-up, nasty man I’ve rarely met.”

Melisande smiled, but then the smile faded and she looked up at a sound, her breath quickening.

The door connecting her rooms to the viscount’s opened. Lord Vale stood in the doorway dressed in a scarlet banyan over breeches and a shirt. “Ah. I’ve arrived too early. Come back, shall I?”

“There’s no need, my lord.” Melisande struggled to keep her voice from quavering. She was having trouble not staring at him. His shirt was unbuttoned at the throat, and that small bit of intimate skin was having a devastating effect on her. “That will be all, Suchlike.”

The maid bobbed a curtsy, suddenly tongue-tied in the presence of her new master. She trotted to the door and left.

Lord Vale looked after Suchlike. “I hope I haven’t frightened your little maid.”

“She’s just nervous in a new house.” Melisande watched him in the mirror as he roamed her room, an exotic male beast. She was his wife. She was hard-pressed not to laugh aloud at the thought.

He strolled to the little fireplace and peered at a china clock on the mantel. “I really didn’t mean to disturb your evening toilet. I’m terrible about time. I can return in another half hour or so, if you’d prefer.”

“No. I’m perfectly ready.” She took a breath, stood, and turned.

He looked at her, his gaze trailing down over her lace-trimmed chemise. It was voluminous but nearly sheer, and she felt her belly tighten at the touch of his eyes.

Then he blinked and looked away. “Perhaps you would like some wine?”

A small twinge of disappointment went through her, but she didn’t let it show. She inclined her head. “That would be nice.”

“Excellent.” He moved to a side table by the fireplace where a decanter stood and poured two glasses.

She came to the fireplace and was standing near him when he turned back around.

He held out a glass. “There you are.”

“Thank you.” She took the glass and sipped. Was he nervous? He was staring into the fire, so she sank into one of the gilt chairs and waved at the other. “Please. Won’t you sit, my lord?”