The Fox: in his Henhouse (The Dubious Mates #1)

Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

C harles awoke groggy, her head aching and eyes swimming before she shut them tight against the world. A voice murmured at her ear, rest, lass, as she sank back into darkness.

“Mr. Cuthbert,” Jenkins’ voice snared him where he sat, “where’s Miss Merrinan, sir? I’ve not seen her since you returned. ’Tisn’t like our housekeeper t’ have not checked with me, ’specially in weather like this.”

John tensed. “Restin’, ma’am.” He took care what he said. “Fell and hit her head while we were headed back. Nothin’ too bad, no more’n a lump t’morrow, I’m sure.”

“Well I ought to check on her, bring her some scran.” She rose from her seat before John stopped her fast.

“No need, ma’am. Checked on her meself. She’s sleepin’ now, said she’d let me know if she needed aught.”

Jenkins frowned. “I should like t’ see her anyways, Cuthbert, ’specially in that cold laal room of hers. She’s like as chilled t’ death and should be sleepin’ with me or Ginny and Ruby, where there’s a mite more warmth.”

John knew it was a losing battle. “Lord Wells offered his room, ma’am, on account o’ that very reason—it bein’ closest t’ Miss Merrinan’s. He’ll sleep in her room tonight instead,” he added, pleased to have come up with such a reasonable explanation.

“Are you tapped ?” Jenkins’s face was pure indignation. “Why in t’ world would his lordship offer his own bed to . . . ’T’ain’t generous, sir, ’tis . . . Why, ’tis ledgeful, Cuthbert. Outrageous! Miss Merrinan should’ve been brought at once t’ my chamber, sir. Have you no decency at all?”

A sea of faces turned to John, the maids looking scandalized and the men all looking sheepish; they knew why Wells had brought his housekeeper to his bed. Yet everyone expected the Abbey’s steward to answer the cook, and damned if John had an explanation for Mrs. Jenkins. At least, no honorable one.

“Ma’am.” He opted for charm, flashing her a half-smile. “We’re an unruly lot, I fear, havin’ lived here too long now without finer company such as yerself. I’m afraid I didn’t think, see, when I brought Miss Merrinan in. I simply brought her to the nearest, warmest bed, which happened t’ be his lordship’s room. There ain’t enough rooms t’ go round yet in the Abbey, as I’m sure you know, or I’d’ve brought her elsewhere.” He tried to look contrite while lying. “’Course his lordship frowned too, at first, at me behavior, he did. Only he were kind enough not t’ insist she be moved. Offered to take her room himself tonight. And there ain’t many like him would do as much, no indeed. Lord Wellesley’s proved himself a more decent and honorable master’n most, ma’am. So I’d kindly ask you let things be. Not embarrass his lordship more by callin’ into fact his house ain’t ordered well enough t’ offer so much as a spare bed with heat. He’s doin’ his best, ma’am, t’ bring the Abbey back, same as he does his best by his staff, too.”

Mrs. Jenkins looked only slightly mollified. “Well,” she puffed, “I certainly shouldn’t wish t’ embarrass his lordship more, Cuthbert. But if Miss Merrinan’s no better by t’morrow she’ll be brought t’ my room t’ recover, eh?” Her eyes met his in warning.

“O’ course, ma’am. I’m sure Miss Merrinan’ll speak with you herself come mornin’.” This seemed to finally settle the cook and John breathed a sigh, as did the men about him. Not a one of them wished the housekeeper ill anymore, not since she’d traded them the village doxie for their silence. After all, she’d done more to improve their lives here than their Captain had . . . thus far.

“Yer Grace!” Cuthbert’s voice softly called through the door. “Supper, sir!”

Wells ushered his man in.

“How is she?” John plunked down the tray.

“Still asleep.” Wells nodded towards Charles. “But she did wake, briefly. I don’t think the blow was as bad as it looks, lost a fair bit of blood though. She’ll have a rousing headache come morning, I suspect.”

“Oi,” Cuthbert agreed. “Could’ve been worse. Came on out o’ nowheres, that storm. Thought we’d time enough t’ make it back.”

“Thank you for getting her here safely, John.” Wells met his steward’s eyes.

“O’ course, Yer Grace, only I’m afraid we’ve another matter on our hands, sir.”

“Oh?”

“Mrs. Jenkins, sir, insisted on seein’ Miss Merrinan herself, and one thing led t’ another ’til I were forced to tell the cook I’d brought the gel here, t’ yer room. And then she . . .” He sighed. “Let’s just say I quick talked me way t’ keep yon housekeeper’s honor intact.”

“Damn these women and their incessant need for respectability,” Wells ground out, rolling his eyes.

“Aye,” Cuthbert muttered. “And I’ve worse news yet, Yer Grace. You’re sleepin’ in Miss Merrinan’s room tonight,” he told him.

“I’ll do no such thing.”

“’Course not, sir.” Cuthbert smirked. “Only y’ might at least rumple the bed in there. Y’ know, make it look slept in.”

Wells harrumphed. “Have Fergus bed there tonight. He’s about my height. I wouldn’t put it past our new cook to go sneaking about. I’ll lock this room too.”

“Aye, sir.” Cuthbert was fairly grinning.

“And the visit, John?” Wells changed the subject. “Was Charles happy to see her family?”

“Yes, sir. Her sister were too, Yer Grace.”

“Good.”

“I’m right glad t’ see the two o’ you gettin’ along better, sir,” Cuthbert offered.

Wells shot him a look. “I take it you are no longer scouring the countryside for a different mistress for me then?”

“No, Yer Grace.” Cuthbert sobered. “I happen t’ like Miss Merrinan fine, sir, though I’d warn you not t’ lose more’n yer bed to her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wells frowned at his man.

“Seen the way you looked when I brought her in.”

Their eyes met.

“Am I not allowed concern for another person, John?” Wells was careful of his tone.

“Y’ are, sir,” said Cuthbert. “Only there’s concern, see, and there’s concern , Yer Grace.” And with that, he exited the room.

Wells was grateful his man had not said more.

She was coming to again, and Wells spoke gently. “Charles, how’s the head? You knocked yourself silly. Can you sit up now, eat something?”

She groaned and opened her eyes, looking dizzy.

He placed an arm about her shoulders, easing her up, before he plumped a pillow behind her.

She inhaled sharply as he lowered her head back onto it.

“You’ve a nasty lump forming.”

“Is Cuthbert . . . ?”

“Fine, Fox. Carried you back, good man.”

“I must thank him.”

“Later, Charles, right now you must eat.” He went to fetch the tray.

She looked at him as though she did not know him. “Am I dreaming, sir?”

“No, miss.” Wells smiled. “At your service.”

“You are never at anyone’s service.” She frowned.

“Not true.” He feigned offense. “I’ve done Adams’s bidding for weeks now. If that’s not service to stone I don’t know what is.”

She managed a faint smile. “You are the oddest heir to a dukedom I have ever met.”

“You meet many dukes then, Charles?” He grinned at her.

“No.” She smiled, beginning to spoon the now lukewarm soup. “I meant only you are unlike a typical peer.”

“Hmm,” he mused. “And pray what is the peerage typically like?”

“Insufferable,” she stated glibly, making him burst out laughing.

“Why, you have known a duke or two, Miss Merrinan.” Only he grew serious fast. “I must warn you, Charles, Cuthbert had to spin a fine tale to Jenkins in order to prevent her storming in here to check on you herself.”

Her eyes widened as she opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her short. “Because she was quite upset he’d put you in my room instead of hers.” He stifled his mirth, to see the look on her face. “I’ll have you know she thinks I am in your cold little closet tonight, as that is the kind of future ‘Peer of the Realm’ I am.” He couldn’t help but grin. “I’ve put Fergus in your bed instead, never fear.”

“Fergus!” she sputtered. “Could you not have sent another man, my lord? I shall have to boil the sheets to get out his stink.”

“Hush, Fox.” He pushed back a stray lock of hair from her face. “Fergus resembles me most; no one else would do.”

Of a sudden she looked miserable. “I shall be found out one of these days, my lord, I know it.”

He pursed his lips. “Nonsense, Fox, we have been inordinately discreet of late, and I’ll not apologize for wishing to nurse you back to health myself.”

“And I thank you for your care, Roland, I do.”

Her use of his name made his insides briefly flip.

“Only my sister asked me one too many questions when I saw her, and I found it difficult to lie.”

“Then why must you lie, Charles? Surely she can keep a secret. Surely with time people will not think it uncommon their lord and master’s taken a?—”

Her face pinched. “It is perfectly common for a lord to take a mistress, I know this, sir.” She struggled. “It is simply not acceptable for me to be your mistress. Should I have no sibling I’d not care a fig if Jenkins found me out, but I cannot compromise Eleanor’s chance at a suitable match. She must be settled before Papa is gone so that she . . .” She sank back against the pillow in exhaustion, her face suddenly drained.

“Hush, Fox.” He stroked her cheek as she closed her eyes. “Your secret is safe. I shall do all I can to safeguard your sister’s reputation.”

“Roland,” her lips whispered.

“Yes, Fox?”

“Thank you,” she said, as he pressed a kiss, softly, to her forehead.

Charles slept soundly the rest of that night, and at dawn, when she awoke, the fog in her head had cleared, and with it the storm outside. Beside her lay his lordship, still fully clothed, and she noticed she wore one of his shirts. Had his lordship undressed and bathed her last night? It seemed too menial a task for Wells to perform, but she couldn’t imagine Cuthbert had, and if Jenkins hadn’t known her whereabouts either then . . .

“Morning, Fox. How’s my patient?” His hand rested gently, possessively almost, at her hip.

“Better, sir, thank you.”

“Good.” He kissed her cheek. “You had me worried last night.”

“Worried?” She smiled. “Surely Lord Roland Rutherford Wellesley does not worry himself over his servants.”

“Only his favorite servants, miss. Only those who serve him exceptionally well,” he teased back.

“Exceptional?” She arched her brow. “I see your estimation of my skills has increased, my lord. Pray tell what else I must yet master to properly serve a future duke’s bed?”

***

Wells felt his gut clench. “Do not tempt me with words, Fox, while you still heal. Otherwise I shall be forced to take advantage of your weakened state in ways that might only be deemed shameless.”

“Shameless, Lord Wells, is your middle name.”

He could tell she was feeling better.

“I should be remiss as mistress, my lord, were I not to learn every shameless act, position, and manner of pleasure to ensure your appetite is duly sated.”

“Woman, you are wicked,” he whispered in her ear, running his tongue down her neck till she shivered.

“I enjoy being wicked with you, Roland,” she whispered back. “You are my weakness, sir.”

“As are you mine.” His tongue took greater liberty, until he had to stop himself from abusing her more. “Yet I am not so wicked as to ravish you while infirm.” He slipped from the bed. “I must rouse Fergus, after all, and see to the boiling of your sheets.” He grinned at her. “And I’m afraid it’s back to trousers for you today while the mud is scrubbed from your uniform. Who’s the girl in laundry now?”

“Ginny, sir. Only I think it time, my lord, that I have more than one dress to wear. You did promise me that bolt of cloth, sir.”

“I did, didn’t I?” He remembered. “’Tis I who’ve been remiss, Charles. As mistress you deserve gifts and gowns, and were we in London . . .” He abruptly broke off. “Yet I do have a gift.” He quickly fetched the package that had recently arrived.

“What is this, my lord?” Charles opened the box and with a look of shock pulled back the thin wrapping paper to remove silk stockings, silk ribbons, and a chemise of gossamer thin fabric. She stared up at him, confused—as if she’d never seen such undergarments in her life.

“For you to wear, Fox, in bed.” His eyes met hers. “It’s what a proper mistress would wear when visited by her lover.”

Charles blushed but then immediately put the things away. “I see it is a gift for you , then, my lord, not for me.” She hastily placed the lid on the box and set it aside.

It was his turn to be surprised. “I hadn’t considered . . .” He felt suddenly contrite. “Of course it is a gift for us both, I thought, to enjoy.” He was no longer sure what to say.

“It is most generous of you, sir,” she said politely, but he could tell she was not pleased.

“I’ve upset you, haven’t I?”

“No, my lord.” Her smile was forced. “Not in the least. Only it is time, I think, I returned to my room and assured Mrs. Jenkins of my health. And saw to the cleaning of my uniform. I would appreciate that fabric you promised me, and as Ruby is the best seamstress on staff, I will set her this task.”

She moved to leave the bed and stand, but when she wobbled a step, he caught her. “Charles,” he told her sternly, “clearly you are not well enough to?—”

“Dizzy, sir. I need a moment is all.”

“You need to lie down again.”

“No,” she insisted, then corrected herself. “My lord, I must return to my room now. Please.”

He could tell she’d brook no argument, so with a sigh he simply hoisted her into his arms. “Very well, Miss Merrinan, but you shall let me carry you to your bed, and we shall strip the sheets before I lay you down on it.”