“Of course, Niebleht.” She lifted the pot of face cream from the vanity and spread a thick layer on Niebleht’s forehead, cheeks, and chin, and lastly over her ghoulish black-rimmed eyes. “There, let that sit while I do Poutina’s.”
“Hmmmph,” she replied, as if she had the right to pout while someone else got attention.
What a three-year-old. Heck, you give three-year-olds a bad name.
Poutina tugged at Caresse’s skirt, her lips curled down in a dramatic pout, made more frightful by her smeared cosmetics. She pointed at her chin. “I have a big pimple. Can you pop it? Only be careful because I have to be beautiful for tomorrow night.”
Gag me.
From beneath her layer of cream, Niebleht said, “While you’re at it, you should also pluck Poutina’s nipple hairs since she’s likely to be flashing her tits tomorrow night, as well.”
“I don’t have any nipple hairs!” Poutina screeched in outrage.
“You do. You’re just too farsighted to see them.”
Doing as she was asked with as much detachment as she could manage under duress, Caresse reminded herself of Leandre and Sebastien’s words. She couldn’t risk angering Desdemona, who popped her head in every so often, impatiently waiting for them to be finished so that Caresse could attend to her, as well.
Hell, no wonder their lady’s maid quit!
Leandre seemed to think that everything would be fine after the third night of the ball. But until then…
Maybe Leandre should come and pop her zits and pluck her nipple hairs.
She imagined the sound of him retching so clearly it was like she almost heard it.
It was nearly dawn, and her feet were aching from standing bare while taking care of first the two daughters and then their mother. Her lady parts were a little sore from her play with Leandre earlier in the night. She hadn’t counted on the fact she’d be needed in the middle of the night when she’d insisted on such boisterous lovemaking. In and of itself that was quite a change for her. But in the middle of it, she’d had no doubts about what she wanted and who she wanted it with.
And then there was Sebastien…
“Girl! I swear you’re useless! If you don’t snap out of it, I’m throwing that invitation in the fireplace!”
Caresse blinked and applied herself once more to brushing out Desdemona’s wildly curly hair after removing all the pins. Powder fell in clouds from it, leaving her feet vaguely dusty. She’d need a bath by the time she was done caring for these hose beasts.
“Invitation? What invitation…madame?”
Desdemona waved it violently under her nose. Caresse’s name, in bold calligraphy, was on the front of the envelope, and it had been torn open already.
“This, you stupid twat!” She slapped the invitation in Caresse’s hand.
Pretty sure murder was frowned upon here just as much at home, Caresse ignored the insult and took the envelope.
“You’ve managed to catch someone’s eye at the palace. I know everyone there, and I want to know who sent that!”
She’d known only about the verbal invitation that Sebastien had extended the night before, but she had no idea who would’ve taken the time to send a formal invitation, especially at that hour.
“I don’t know who sent it.”
“I’ll find out if you’re lying to me, girl! There are no secrets from me in this household. First, you make free with my husband’s good graces and blind eye to your conniving, and then you make yourself at home in a manner well above your station. And to top it off, you can barely be bothered to do any work in the household to which you applied for work.”
Okay, that’s enough.
“With all due respect, madame, I make the breakfast croissants you’ve demanded of Marigold every morning since my arrival, as well as the fresh bread and the yeast rolls you, Poutina, and Niebleht wolf down like starving field hands every night. That is the work I applied for and was trained to do. I’ve assisted with toilettes because your lady’s maid left you and I could tell you all needed help. I didn’t realize you would expect me to be waiting for your return, and I’ve been kept up all night.”
She bit her lip to keep from unleashing any more unhelpful thoughts.
Desdemona turned to her, back stiff, all scary stillness in her demeanor and false sincerity in her eyes.
“Are you tired, my poor dear? Try not to nap during the day today. It’ll only make it harder for you to sleep tonight. As a matter of fact, I think I’ll help with that.” Desdemona rose from the stool at her dressing table and advanced on her, pointing at the thick envelope in Caresse’s hands. “You have your invitation, sanctioning your visit to the ball tonight. Let’s keep you busy this day so you won’t have any time to worry yourself about what to wear, shall we? Get down to the kitchen. Marigold should be arriving any moment. She’ll need your help all day since I’m hosting a brunch for some of the debutantes and their mothers—after I’ve had some much-needed sleep. Hurry now. Chop. Chop.”
It was all Caresse could do not to slam the door behind her.
* * * *
Being light on his feet in his tiny tangere form definitely had its benefits, Leandre thought as he dodged the pointy-toed boot aimed at him as Desdemona flounced from the kitchen.
He’d been drawn there by the distress he sensed Caresse was under. He wanted to bite Desdemona’s ankle, but he was more concerned about Caresse at the moment.
He paused in the doorway, taking in the spectacle—and almost went after Desdemona after all.
Marigold was demonstrating why she’d always been among his favorites in the household, along with George.
Marigold had just convinced Caresse to sit on a stool at the big worktable in the center of the kitchen. Caresse was covered from head to toe in flour. Not because she’d been working, although she had been, nonstop since leaving her room earlier that night. Desdemona had done the honors.
“My poor chère, let me clean your pretty face up. That witch wants what she wants when she wants it, and she looks for any excuse to be horrible to you. I should replace the paprika in her egg salad with cayenne pepper. That will distract her. I don’t understand why she is so—”
“Don’t do that, Marigold. She’ll know you did it, and I don’t want you to be in trouble on my account.”
“Chère, she ordered two dozen croissants earlier, not the four dozen she claims she requested. You heard her correctly. There was no reason for her to douse you with flour for her mistake. A true lady would never act in such a fashion. Fine, then. I will put enough paprika in her egg salad to have her shitting fire for a week!”
Because he couldn’t laugh without frightening someone into thinking he was having some sort of fit, Leandre resorted to sneezing to let the hilarity out.
“I don’t think it was just the croissants that she was upset about, though.”
“Oh, you mean about your room? Chère, I wasn’t one of those who helped to store all those belongings. It was before my time, but I most certainly did overhear her say that you could utilize whatever ‘cast offs’ you could find among the stored items. We all did,” she said, referring to the kitchen and house staff that moved through the kitchen on their way to complete various tasks.
The upstairs maid patted Caresse’s shoulder in sympathy before taking the ashbin out the back door.
Despite her boasting to the contrary, Desdemona had little to do with the running of the mansion, and it hadn’t occurred to him that she’d inspect Caresse’s quarters once they’d been assigned.
Leandre trotted up to Caresse and leaped into her open arms, not caring that he got dusted in flour when she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his head. My poor sweet angel. I’m so sorry. This is my fault.
He wasn’t sure if she understood him completely, but she did give him a gentle squeeze and held him close.
Just then, George walked in the room, consternation in his usually taciturn features. “She’s ordered your room stripped of all i
ts furnishings. I couldn’t stop her. I’m sorry, my dear.”
“I figured as much when she reacted the way she did. I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve put your staff to.”
Marigold offered George a cup of tea, for which he nodded his thanks, and said, “It’s not for you to apologize, Caresse. Madame also ordered the items stripped from your room to be burned.”
“What?”
What?
A hint of amusement twinkled in George’s usually sad basset-hound eyes. “No need to worry. I sidelined that request in deference to the master of the house.”
“But I don’t want you to be in trouble with Charles when he returns home.”
George shrugged as if it was of no concern. “One must choose one’s battles. Madame was overheard telling one of her friends that it was long past time to rid the house of the dead first wife’s junk after all these years. The servant wasted no time in telling me. It’s up to no one but the master what happens to Ella’s belongings. And…well…” he said, reaching out to pat Caresse’s dusty sleeve. “Madame is well-occupied with all the ladies in the house, but just in case she gets it into her head to set a bonfire herself, I’ve secured the most noteworthy part of Ella’s belongings in my own quarters.”
“You did?”
George nodded and glanced Marigold’s way. The cook’s lips turned up in a tiny smile, and Marigold said, “We think it should all belong to you outright, along with other things, but I’ll keep my mouth closed about that for now.”
“I have no claim to Ella’s things but thank you, George, Marigold. I hate the thought of that witch destroying such beautiful pieces.” Caresse sighed, looking dead on her feet and rose from the stool. “I’d better get back to work. Those croissants won’t make themselves.”
“I’ll make you a nice, strong cup of coffee. I remember how you like it. And you, my widdle smooshkin,” Marigold murmured as she scratched under Leandre’s chin, making his foot tap in reflex, “I set aside the best part of the salmon from the luncheon just for you. I’ll have both ready in no time. You stay with our Caresse and make her smile, yes?”
Leandre responded with a playful chuff and licked Caresse’s chin and then shook his head and sneezed. Flour. Ack!
George chuckled and finished the last sip of his tea and rubbed his knuckles gently on the top of Leandre’s head. “This little mite has taken quite a fancy to you, my dear, and I’m glad. I don’t worry about him quite as much since you’ve been here. He goes off on his own from time to time, but I worried when he disappeared last time that Desdemona was behind it. He would be sorely missed by us if something were to happen to him.”
Taken aback by George’s kind words, Leandre gave the butler a tiny lick on the hand. It was quite a revelation to know he’d worried on Leandre’s account.
Caresse lifted him so they were eye to eye and gave him a mischievous smile. “I’ve grown attached to him, as well. Thank you both so much,” she added, her words turning a little husky and her eyes becoming shiny.
“What will you do about a ball gown for tonight?” Marigold asked as she began bringing the ingredients to make a second batch of croissants for Madame Hose Beast and her friends before continuing on with lunch preparations. “There might’ve been a few gowns among Ella’s things, but…”
“I have an ace in the hole,” Caresse said with a wide grin as she glanced at him.
“What does that mean, ma chère?”
“It means that if I can still stand tonight when it’s time to get ready, I’ll have a gown.”
Marigold touched her sleeve and said, “You know that the other ‘ladies’ will keep you running and busy until the last possible minute?”
“I know.”
“I’ll have a nice bath sent up for you while you help them get ready. They are so lucky you’re still willing to help.”
“I don’t want to make any waves.”
“Madame is so hateful. She doesn’t seem to even need an excuse with you. Well, Master Charles sent word he’ll return tomorrow night. George will take up the issue of your furnishings and Madame’s burn order with him. Monsieur Charles will fix all of this. He’s a very good man, just blind where Madame Battle-ax is concerned.”
Leandre sneezed. He liked that moniker even better than Madame Hose Beast. He nearly died when Caresse’s thought came through their connection loud and clear.
If he can get me out of pimple popping and nipple hair plucking duty, I’d be forever grateful. Gag.
Chapter Eight
Caresse thought she knew what tired felt like, but after twelve hours on her feet in the kitchen and the herb garden, she’d been tasked with helping Poutina and Niebleht bathe and prepare for the ball, followed by helping Desdemona.
Caresse had been on the receiving end of their tackiness and insulting remarks well into the evening. Marigold stayed after her to drink water and coffee and made sure she ate at every meal, reminding her it would do her no good to have a gown if she passed out before it was time to get ready.
True to her word, Marigold oversaw the delivery of a hot bath to Caresse’s now barren quarters and offered to stay to help.
“Marigold, you’ve had a long day, as well. Shouldn’t you have your feet up?”
“Maybe, yes, but I haven’t been sniped at the entire day. You settle in that tub and soak, chère. I’ll return with a little snack and some of the leftover punch from the luncheon. That’ll put a bit of color back into your cheeks. I’ll bring enough for us both and put my feet up then. How’s that?”
Caresse hugged her hard. “You’re wonderful. Simply…wonderful.”
“Well,” Marigold stammered, “I just like having someone to look after. You’ve been a big help to me, don’t forget. The kitchen is a less lonely place because of you. Soak. I’ll return.”
After stripping naked, she turned and was startled to find Leandre had transformed and had moved silently to stand behind her. He was dressed in a long tunic with laces undone at the neck over simple trousers. Even in casual dress he was a fine figure of a man.
Admiration and lust glimmered in his eyes as he stroked her bare shoulder, raising a wave of goosebumps on her skin. She caught her breath when he came just close enough for her nipples to brush lightly against his tunic front. The silky material felt rough against her sensitive flesh, and a wave of heat sizzled through her center, straight to her suddenly damp pussy.
“M-Marigold will return soon.”
“I’ll hear her on the stairs when she returns. Are you sure you’re up to attend tonight? I’m worn out just from watching after you all day.”
Caresse hesitated but then said, “I have an invitation to the ball. Someone wanted me to be there. You wouldn’t have any idea who, would you?”
Leandre shrugged. “I’m not absolutely certain, but it looks like the work of Selena, my sister.”
“Then I should be there, shouldn’t I?”
His reply was preceded by a soft, irritated growl. “Yes. Get in the tub and relax. Close your eyes and rest for a bit. I’ll watch over you.”
She didn’t even try to argue with him. “That’s your nice way of saying you want to ogle my nakedness.”
“My heart is hurt, princess.” He thumbed his chest. “The faery bodyguard, remember?”
“The faery body ogler. The TFBO?” She snorted out loud. “BO! Get it?” Boy, I am tired!
“I’ll have you know faeries don’t have body odor. We smell good all the time.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
“You try smelling like oranges all the time.”
“But on you it’s manly. It doesn’t bother me. Ohhhhh,” she moaned as she settled into the steaming water. “That is heaven.” The water was hot, but she shivered as the comforting heat seeped into her tight muscles. The room was quiet except for the sound of the breeze fluttering through the curtains. Opening her eyes, she caught the goofy grin on Leandre’s face. “What?”
He hesitated for a second and the
n replied. “When you make that sound, it turns me on.”
“You mean…” She waggled an index finger at his groin.
“Mmmhmm. Eee-rect.”
“Good to know. TEFB. The erect faery bodyguard.”
He snorted in amusement and sat on the stool beside her and scooped water onto her shoulder. “TFBB. The faery boner bodyguard.”
They went back and forth with alternative acronyms, her giggling and him laughing, until he put his finger to his lips. “Marigold’s coming back. Spend some time with her relaxing and eat something. I’m going to the palace to check in with Sebastien. I’ll return in a little while to help you dress.”
“I want a kiss.”
Smiling, he obliged her, leaning forward and pressing his lips on hers, teasing her with the tip of his tongue and tugging at her lower lip with his teeth.
“Can Sebastien come back with you?”
“With his mother watching him like a hawk until we arrive? Not likely, the poor bastard. Perhaps later after the ball, if you’re not comatose by the time we get you out of your dress. Tomorrow night can’t come soon enough.”
“You keep saying things like that, but—”
He cut her off with another kiss and a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Soon enough, princess, you’ll have answers to all your questions.”
He gave her a playful lick on her shoulder before drawing back and whispering away in a mini tornado that carried a trace of oranges. No, she’d never grow weary of that scent.
Marigold returned, and true to her word, once she’s shared a cup of the punch and a platter of nibbles with Caresse, she put her feet up.
Marigold spoke of her time at Le Maison de Rochambard and queried about where Caresse had learned to bake. She stuck as closely as she could to the truth with her answers.
“When I was young I went to work in a bakery in my hometown, as a way to provide for myself after my parents passed on.”
“You poor thing! Have you always been alone? No family?”
Midnight of the Fae [Tangere Tales 2] (Siren Publishing Menage Everlasting) Page 10
