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

Chapter 31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

W ells was doing his damnedest to avoid Miss Mowry, yet his mother thrust the lady upon him at every conceivable turn. She was the type of ubiquitous brunette the Ton wholeheartedly approved, and whom his mother had clearly dressed to impress, accentuating the girl’s petite figure. Mowry couldn’t hold a candle to Charles, though he was presently mad at his mistress for having ruined the shell room by virtue of serving his guests tea here in his favorite space.

“Why, Lord Wells, it is the most extraordinary room I have ever seen,” Miss Mowry gushed.

“Yes, I daresay it is unique.” He was barely polite.

She touched his arm with her gloved hand. “Would you be so kind as to tell me its story, sir?” Her eyes fluttered up at him.

Wells despised coyness.

“I am sure my mother will do it greater justice, miss.” He threw Maman a look.

“Oh no, you tell its history as well as I, Roland.” The Duchess wickedly smiled back. “Though I must say your housekeeper outdid herself; the room positively sparkles once more. I am glad she thought to serve us tea in here today, as your parlor’s four walls grow old.” Her rebuke was as always, pointed.

“Well, when one leaves a residence in utter disrepair for nigh on two decades, Mother, one learns to live with a few minor inconveniences.”

The Duchess leveled her gaze at her son but directed her words elsewhere. “The Duke and I used to spend our summers here, Miss Mowry, when Roland was a boy. The shell room was his favorite place to play in the Abbey, wasn’t it, dear?”

“It was ,” he emphasized.

“And is it true you captained a ship yourself, Lord Wellesley?” The lady feigned interest; ladies always did. “I can only imagine what exotic treasures you must have brought back from your far-flung travels. How exciting to sail the seas!”

“I brought my men home alive, miss.” He watched her face fall. “That was treasure enough.”

“Roland is being modest, my dear,” his mother interjected, repairing the conversation. “He certainly did have his share of adventure though. Why don’t you regale Miss Mowry with your tales of daring, darling?” Her smile by now looked brittle.

“Hmm, let’s see . . .” Wells pretended to make nice. “Shall I tell her about the week we spent in the doldrums, eating rats and drinking our own piss till the winds finally lifted? Or would she rather hear tell of the storm that nearly sank us and sent two men overboard clinging to life for three days in shark-infested waters? Till they were burnt black from the sun?” He ruthlessly met his mother’s gaze.

Miss Mowry looked faint.

“Roland,” the Duchess snapped, “those are hardly appropriate tales for a lady of Miss Mowry’s delicate?—”

“ Do forgive me, miss.” He rose to take her hand. “My memories tend towards the morose, I’m afraid, for to be so long at sea does things to a man’s mind.”

The lady looked fainter still, making Wells secretly, inside, grin.

“Excuse me.” His lips barely brushed her fingertips in exit. “I’m afraid I must see my steward on an urgent matter yet this morning.”

And out he fled, nearly colliding in the hallway with his housekeeper, en route to deliver the ladies their tea.

***

“What were you thinking putting them in there?”

Charles was insulted by his lordship’s tone, not to mention the fact he’d nearly knocked over her precariously balanced tray. “There aren’t enough ready rooms, my lord,” she hissed back at him, adding, “I am doing the best I can.”

“Well do better ,” he snarled, stomping off with a scowl.

Charles was more than a little peeved at Lord Wells but delivered the tea with aplomb, carefully pouring each lady a cup.

Her grace received Charles warmly. “This, Miss Mowry, is Mrs. Merrinan, my son’s housekeeper.”

Charles was momentarily confused by the use of Mrs. before she remembered it was de rigueur for all housekeepers, married or not. She made to leave, but the Duchess stopped her.

“No, stay a moment if you would, Mrs. Merrinan. I fear my son just abandoned us and there are so few amusements at the Abbey.” She sighed rather obviously. “Pray sit with us a while and tell Miss Mowry something of local life here in Cumberland.”

Charles found her grace’s request more than a little off-putting. She had a multitude of tasks to accomplish, not least of which was filling in as parlor maid while her actual maid currently scrubbed bedclothes. “Of course, Your Grace,” she answered like the dutiful servant she’d become.

“Sit, please,” the Duchess insisted, “else it shall look as though you are reporting rather than conversing.” She took another sip of tea.

Charles grudgingly sat, smoothed her skirts, and turned politely towards Miss Mowry, whose eyes looked awfully wide. She attempted to put the lady at ease.

“If this is indeed your first visit to Cumberland, Miss Mowry, I’m afraid you timed it poorly, for the countryside is least appealing precisely now while the snow slowly melts. In summer and fall our land is at its finest, though even springtime’s May Day is lovely, the village children especially have a grand time of it.” Charles watched color begin to revive the lady’s cheeks and knew her words were working.

“And the fells and lakes in summer, why, they are simply breathtaking. It is worth the long, harsh winters here to picnic at the foot of a mountain and swim in crystalline blue waters. But I am sure I needn’t tell you any of this, miss, as her grace, no doubt, has regaled you herself of all our region has to offer.”

Only the Duchess, it seemed, did not share Charles’s enthusiasm. “I’ll admit most any season is preferable to winter, Mrs. Merrinan, yet I still find the landscape here harsh and oppressive.”

Charles found it odd her grace would disparage Cumberland at all, knowing her son intended to reside here with whatever wife he’d take. She frowned a little at the Duchess.

“I must disagree, Your Grace. The land is not so much harsh as it is wild, free. You can sense it in the air, the fresh breeze on skin, the slap of wind in a storm. And when one lives here year round, one appreciates this power and pulse—how brilliantly nature paints form and color into the sky, how sunrise and sunset are mirrored in the lake water, radiant against the mountainsides. It is, I believe, the most beautiful place on earth.”

Both ladies gaped almost at Charles. She blushed. “Forgive me, Your Grace, Miss Mowry. It seems I am out of practice for conversation. If you’ll excuse me there is much I must attend to this morning.” She curtsied fast and scurried from the room.

From the hall Charles overheard Miss Mowry tell the Duchess, “She speaks not at all like a housekeeper, does she, Your Grace?”

“No, she does not,” her grace replied. “Decidedly not.”

“Roland, dear, I must say your Cumberland cook is outstanding.”

They were dining, and for the hundredth time Wells wanted to throttle his mother’s elegant, aristocratic neck.

“Yes, Jenkins is a gem.” He was tired of making small talk. He’d done little else for days.

“Wherever did you find her?”

He promptly let loose a string of curse words in his head intended for his mother. “Miss Merrinan,” Wells replied tersely, “urged me to sample the cook’s rum nicky.”

Miss Mowry’s face furrowed at the term.

“Ah, Mrs. Merrinan.” Maman smiled; she knew rum nicky’s charms. “A gem in her own right.”

“I daresay yes,” he expelled under his breath.

Miss Mowry blinked, still confused by rum nicky.

“And how did you find her ?” His mother needled.

“My housekeeper?” Wells took another bite. “Showed up here looking for work.”

“Just like that?” Maman arched her brow.

He remained stubbornly silent, not wishing to reveal the truth of Charles’s arrival.

“Mrs. Merrinan strikes me as rather well spoken for a servant.” Miss Mowry seized upon the lull in conversation. “Why, just today she painted such a vivid, almost poetic picture of the countryside I?—”

“Miss Merrinan,” Wells interrupted her, “is well educated. As is my steward, Mr. Cuthbert. I find employing competent servants leads to better run households.”

“Not to mention loyal,” the Duchess muttered.

“Yes, loyal, Mother.” His eyes met hers. “More than might be said of others.”

The Duchess was not rattled. “Miss Mowry, would you like a proper tour of the Abbey tomorrow? I’m sure Roland would be happy to show you about, for you really ought to see the ducal portrait gallery, and the oriental rotunda of course. You don’t mind, do you, son?” she baited.

Wells sighed loud enough it was apparent he did. “I should be delighted, Miss Mowry, though you must prepare yourself for cobwebs, excrement, and perhaps a ghost or two. The Abbey is haunted by quite a few nefarious spirits.”

The lady grew pale.

“But fear not, miss, I shall not leave your side.” He pasted a smile to his face.

The smile Maman beamed back was just as false. “Wonderful, Roland. I’m sure Miss Mowry will be enchanted. After breakfast then, and perhaps a game of cards tonight?”

“Oh yes, I do enjoy a game of whist!” The young lady seemed animated by the idea.

“Then we shall need a fourth player,” Wells noted. “Suggestions?”

“Perhaps your housekeeper or steward, my lord? Since you say both are educated?” Miss Mowry chimed in.

“Why not?” Wellesley’s lips twitched. Why not indeed.

Yet later, when Wells had located and informed his housekeeper of the evening’s plan, she was less than pleased by the idea.

“No,” Charles told him, adamant. “I have neither the time nor energy to sit about playing cards while there is so much on my plate.”

“Cuthbert doesn’t play, Charles, and Miss Mowry specifically requested whist, which requires four. I am sorry but you must.”

“I must?” She glared at him. “Since when is whist within my job description, sir?”

“Which job, Charles?” He loved to rile her. “For there are many varied descriptions to your two positions here. Would you prefer I inform Miss Mowry you will be partnering as my mistress tonight, rather than as my housekeeper?”

Wells caught her arm right before she could slap him. “Do not cross me, Fox, not with my mother here. I am in a foul enough temper and do not wish to battle you, too.” He softened towards her but did not let go her arm.

He could see her stewing, and with his other hand reached to trace her cheek. “Please, Charles, I barely see you anymore with the two of them constantly underfoot.”

“Fine.” She relented as he drew her to him, kissing her hard and fast upon the lips, making him ache for her that much more. It had been days since she’d shared his bed, for how could she when his mother now slept in his chamber and he bunked with his men in a hayloft? He sensed the hunger in her kiss, too.

“Thank you, Fox.” His lips brushed her ear. “I hope you trounce them both.”

“Not before I trounce you, Wells.” She smirked.

And trounce him Charles did, for the Duchess had of course paired Mowry with her son, and Charles with herself. The Duchess did not seem at all surprised to discover Almsdale’s housekeeper adept.

“And that would be another five.” Her grace smiled at their opponents. “One more round then?” She grinned at Miss Mowry.

Only this time the lady begged off. “Why yes, one more round, yet new partners please. I do not think Lord Wellesley is focused much upon his game, whereas your team, Your Grace, is formidable.”

“Indeed.” The Duchess winked at Charles, who tried hard not to smile back.

“A man is easily outwitted when two smart women team up.” Wells caught Charles’s eye. “I shall take Miss Merrinan, then, as partner, Miss Mowry, so that you may experience my mother’s brilliance firsthand.”

“Excellent, Lord Wellesley.” The lady rose to trade seats with Charles. “I am impressed by your skill, Mrs. Merrinan. How do you come to play so well?”

Charles hesitated. “My family played, Miss Mowry.”

“She plays a sharp game of chess too,” Wells chimed in. “Beat me more than once; a better opponent than my steward by far.”

“Chess, too?” The lady began to look alarmed as Charles hastened to intervene.

“Miss Mowry, Lord Wellesley fails to explain my father was the village school teacher here and so taught his daughters everything he knew, including chess.”

“School teacher?” The Duchess frowned. “But I thought your father was?—”

Charles quickly interrupted. “Shall we?” She reached for the deck to begin dealing another round of cards.

And without warning she felt a hand slide to her lap, startling her not a little. For the rest of the game it rested there, teasing and squeezing, till her concentration failed her and their team lost the match, though his lordship did not seem the least bit displeased.

Neither, in truth, was Charles.