Noble Destiny

by Katie MacAlister

  “My lady?”

  “Hmmm.” Charlotte shook off the image of Dare’s naked behind as seen the day Gillian ripped his kilt off, and considered Batsfoam for a moment. He didn’t sound particularly Scottish, so perhaps the fault lay elsewhere. She worried about that for a moment, then decided it was more important she turn her mind to other things, such as having a maid, a proper maid, undress her so she could await her husband’s connubial attentions. “Batsfoam, while it is true that I appreciate your willingness to help around the house as you can, I simply must draw the line at you serving as a lady’s maid.”

  “If it is my noisome leg, my lady—”

  “No,” Charlotte reassured him as she opened the door to the hallway. Overall, she was pleased with the small room adjoining Dare’s that had been assigned as her bedchamber, but she had strong feelings about the person who had shown her the room. “It is not just that. You force me to be blunt, Batsfoam, to wound you with words, something I had hoped to avoid with my new staff, at least for a day or so until we get to know one another better, but perhaps it’s for the best that we clear the stair with this issue now and not later—”

  “Clear the stair? You wish me to dust the stairway?” Batsfoam looked surprised at the order. “Now, my lady? At this late hour? I believe his lordship will have need of my assistance with the rendering onto paper the design of a newly modified valve, but I will strive to meet your demands for stair care. Nay, say not another word, my lady. You wish the stairs cleared, and so they shall be. Since I cannot serve you as your maid due to the uncouth and raucous noises issuing from my new leg, I shall endeavor to fulfill your every wish, no matter how inexplicable. And now, my lady, I am off to clear the stairs, but before I do so, I will send up another staff member to take my unwanted place as your maid.”

  Charlotte, busy thinking about whether it was better to wait for Dare and his much anticipated manly instrument in her bed or his, missed most of Batsfoam’s oratory, a fact which did not escape him. Should Charlotte have been looking at him at that exact moment, she would have seen something very akin to a light of challenge dawning in his eye. But she was lost in contemplation of the image of Dare’s bronze skin, rippling with muscles and gilded with the finest of golden hairs, so she merely muttered, “Fine, fine.”

  It wasn’t until later, when Batsfoam sent up Wills the scullery lad to act as lady’s maid, that she realized she would have to take charge of the household that very instant or suffer the most improper, and more importantly, uncomfortable life with Alasdair’s heathenish staff. The good Lord above knew she, in an act fairly reeking of generosity and willingness to cooperate (not to mention desperation to get undressed and ready for the connubial action she anticipated with bated breath and wetted lip) had given Wills a chance, but he proved to be a sore trial to her patience when, asked to comb out her hair, he fainted dead away before even taking out one rosebud.

  “He’s gone too far this time,” she warned the unconscious Wills a few scant seconds before she doused him with her wash water. He sputtered and came to life only to see his new mistress glowering over him, speaking in a voice that got progressively louder and higher with each word that slipped from her cherry-kissed lips. “I have been patient with his eccentric ways, I have been understanding of his pinch-paring habits, I have been everything a good wife could possibly be, but he goes too far in asking me to take on a twelve-year-old boy as my lady’s maid!”

  “M’lady?” Wills squeaked in concern, scooting backward across the damp rug, praying that Lady Carlisle wasn’t about to bring the empty ewer down upon his head.

  Char dropped the ewer, grabbed the boy by his wet ear, hauled him to his feet, and demanded to be taken to her husband.

  “Oi don’ know where ’e is,” the lad cried, flinching as she steered him toward the stairs. “’Onest, m’lady, oi don’ know where ’is lordship is!”

  Charlotte tightened her grip on the slippery ear. “If you want to see this ear again, you had better find out, hadn’t you?”

  The boy started to nod, decided that wasn’t the wisest course of action when the future of his ear was at stake, and began to wail instead.

  “Please, m’lady, Oi’ve told you Oi don’ know where ’e is. You’ve got to believe me. Oi don’ know and that’s a fact. Please, m’lady, Oi want me ear, it’s the only one Oi’ve got, don’ take it away from me!”

  Charlotte paused at the top of the stairs. The boy was openly sniffling now, wiping his nose on his sleeve. She released his ear and took hold of the back of his jacket, turning to march down the opposite end of the hallway, still retaining hold of the boy when she stopped before a door and knocked.

  A tiny red-haired maid opened the door, gawked at Wills for a second before bobbing a respectful curtsy to Charlotte. Behind the maid, Patricia rose from where she was seated at a low table, clearly in the process of being readied for bed.

  “Charlotte? Is something wrong? Why is Wills crying?”

  “He has something wrong with his ear,” Charlotte said abruptly. “Where is your brother?”

  Patricia stopped midway across the room, her hands fluttering in distress. “My brother? Dare? You want to know where Dare is? He’s not with you?”

  Charlotte raised her chin, narrowed her eyes, and pinned her new sister-in-law with a look that had Patricia taking a wary step backward. “He is not with me. Since I have only been in this house for an hour and have not yet been given a tour of the premises and since Wills seems to be obsessed with talk of his ear and wiping his nose on his garments in a manner that makes me want to do nothing so much as wash my hands, I must ask your advice. I am doing so now. Where might I find my husband, your brother, the earl?”

  “He’s…he’s probably working on his engine. He does most evenings,” Patricia offered, a questioning expression on her face. Charlotte was grateful it wasn’t pity. She didn’t think she could take pity at that moment.

  “His engine? Oh, his little hobby. Where does he keep that?”

  Patricia blinked a couple of times before shaking her head and stepping forward, smiling at Charlotte as she squeezed her free hand. “Dare works on his engine in what used to be the butler’s pantry. It’s belowstairs, at the front of the house, where it catches the morning sun. Wills will show you the way.”

  Charlotte murmured a polite thanks and was turning away when she paused to frown at the boy in her grasp, setting him to trembling and sniffling again before she turned back to Patricia. “I cannot help but notice that your maid is a female.”

  Patricia looked between her maid and Charlotte. “Yeeeees,” she drawled, confusion plainly writ on her face.

  Charlotte’s nostrils flared for a moment as a militant glint lit her eye. Then she nodded and headed off to the stairs, Wills in tow.

  Five minutes later she was escorted by a remarkably cheerful Batsfoam into a small, dank room so far distant from the living areas of the house it seemed to be buried in the bowels of the earth. The room stank with the nose-wrinkling acid smell of burnt oil, mildew, dirt, and blacking, but what caught Charlotte’s attention as she ducked to enter the low wooden door was not the smell, or the sight of a mammoth black machine that took up most of the available space, or the tables ringing the room, filled with strange tools, filthy rags, and pots of substances she couldn’t begin to fathom. No, what caught and held her eye was the sight of her husband of five hours bent over a shaft sprouting out the side of the machine. He had stripped down to just his shirt and trousers, a fact Charlotte greatly appreciated as she stood blocking the doorway, her gaze happily feasting on the sight of material stretched tight across the long, muscled length of his leg. Not to mention the lovely contours of his behind. Charlotte took one look at that behind and instantly her womanly parts started clamoring for attention.

  His attention.

  “Oh,” she said. “Oh.”

  Dare straightened up a
t the interruption and looked over his shoulder. His handsome face bore a familiar scowl, but Charlotte was too busy looking from his bare arms and neck to the large expanse of magnificent chest clearly visible through the shirt glued with sweat to every curve and contour to notice the scowl. A subdued cough at her back reminded her where she was, along with the latest round of grievous injuries done to her by the annoying, if mouthwatering, man in front of her. She tightened her hold on Wills and shoved him through the door ahead of her, looking around the small, dusty room as she did so.

  “So that is an engine,” she said, trying to sound interested in the horrible-looking conglomeration of mechanical bits that apparently held more allure than his bride.

  “No, madam,” Dare replied, reaching for a dirt-encrusted cloth to wipe the grease from his hands. Charlotte made a mental note to have his engine cloths replaced at the soonest possible moment. “This is an air pump, condenser, and boiler. It is part of my steam engine.”

  “That’s what I said, it’s an engine. It all looks so very”—Awful. Dirty. Boring.—“fascinating.”

  Dare stopped scowling and gave her a long, considering look. There was something in his eyes that suddenly had her anger melting, replaced with an odd, and hitherto inexperienced, desire to please him. She struggled for a moment with this strange new emotion.

  “It is fascinating,” Dare replied gruffly, giving her another long look before noticing the man standing behind her. “Ah, there you are, Batsfoam. You have yet to finish the drawing of the revised boiler. I’ll need that before we run the first trial. Er…Charlotte?”

  Charlotte, having just come to the decision that her tender feelings for her new husband were due to novelty and nothing more, remembered just why she was standing in a smoky, ill-lit room, and so did not notice the note of hesitancy in her husband’s voice as he spoke her name.

  “Did you want me to show you what I’m working on?”

  She opened her mouth to make a scathing comment, but the strange need to please him grew within her. Somewhat abruptly, she realized that Dare was no longer scowling, that his voice was warm and caressing, and his eyes were glittering with some glad emotion. She glanced at the machinery. She truly had no desire to hear about it, no desire in the least; she simply wanted to complain to her husband about his servants, get his approval to make the changes she deemed necessary, and have someone undress her so she could go to bed and enjoy the benefits of being married to a man who stole her breath every time she looked at him.

  “I…I…” The last of her annoyance evaporated as his eyebrows rose in hopeful expectation. How could she refuse such an offer? She couldn’t. Something inside her melted to a warm, satisfying emotion as she answered. “Why, yes, Alasdair, I would very much like for you to show me your project.” Still maintaining a hold on Wills, she moved over to stand next to Dare and peered down at the open row of cylinders. “It looks very complicated.”

  “It is complicated. Marine engines are infinitely more difficult to design than traditional engines because of the problem of deterioration due to the constant exposure to salt water.”

  Charlotte eyed the engine with misgiving, tugging Wills over to examine the back side of the machine. “Is it dangerous?”

  “There is always a danger when working with engines, Charlotte,” Dare answered calmly. “However, I am confident I have located and fixed any flaws that might result in disaster.”

  “Naturally, I am concerned, but I must admit that it looks rather benign. Why is it you have chosen this project upon which to bestow your free time?”

  Her emphasis on the last two words evidently did not register with Dare. He cocked an eyebrow at the grip she maintained on the back of Wills’s jacket. “Is there something you want the lad to do, Charlotte?”

  Her chin went up and her eyes narrowed. “On the contrary, my lord, there is something I want him not to do.”

  Dare rubbed his nose, leaving a slight smear of grease on his face. Charlotte stared at it, her fingers itching to wipe it off, to stroke the long planes of his face.

  “What’s that?”

  “Hmmm? You have something just there…no, I’ll get it.” She brushed aside his hand and ran her finger down the long length of his nose. He stilled under her touch. Her breath quickened in response.

  “Charlotte?” His eyes, she couldn’t help noticing, had darkened to the color of the ocean on a summer’s day. He took her hand in his, his thumb making gentle circles on her wrist. Her heart leaped at his touch.

  “Yes, Alasdair?”

  “Wills?”

  She blinked, withdrawing from the fantasy of just what part of him she’d like to be stroking at that moment. “Wills?”

  Dare nodded at the lad. “You said you wanted him not to do something? What exactly would that be?”

  “Oh. Wills. Yes, of course. Quite simply, my lord, I do not wish for him to be my maid.”

  Dare looked at her, disbelief rife in his mind-meltingly handsome eyes. “Your maid?”

  Charlotte nodded. She’d decided to stand firm on this issue. If she started giving in to every one of Dare’s eccentric habits, who knows where she would end up. “That’s correct. I do not wish him to be my maid. He’s too young, he knows nothing about dressing hair, and frankly, I doubt if he can care for my clothing in a manner suited to my position.” Char leaned closer until her breath brushed his cheek. “The boy wipes his nose on his sleeve!”

  “He does?” Dare asked, his breath mingling with hers as he turned his head to her.

  “Yes,” she said, immediately losing the train of the conversation. God’s toenails, the man was so handsome it made her feel positively dowdy in comparison. Char took control of all her parts that were clamoring to be cast into Dare’s arms and stepped back. She had to be firm, that was all, firm and resolute in the face of the most tempting man on the face of the earth.

  Dare raised his eyebrows at her, and asked mildly, “Why would you even think of Wills as a maid… Batsfoam, come back here! You have drafting to do!”

  “What do you mean, why would I think of Wills as my maid?” Charlotte was outraged by the implication behind his words. Clearly he didn’t feel she needed a maid at all and was regretting the loss of Wills at his regular tasks. Well, if that were the case, he could think twice! “The boy was assigned to me, that’s why. I’m sure you have other things for him to do. From what Batsfoam has told me, every member of your staff seems to be doing the jobs of three people, but nonetheless, I simply must have a maid. It is impossible to undo the tapes at the back of my gown without assistance.”

  “My most gracious and kind lord, I was just going to fulfill the other tasks that claim my time with the intention of returning to draft your new boiler design just as soon as I have seen to my lord and lady’s comfort, health, and general well-being.”

  “Stay where you are, Batsfoam. Charlotte, I never said—”

  “Not to mention my hair. And who will take care of my clothing? I am willing to cooperate to my fullest on many things, Alasdair, but on this I am adamant. I must have a maid!”

  “I promised Cook I would assist him with the blacking of the stoves, my august and benevolent lord. And then I must check the coal, see that the beds are turned down and warmed, attend to the doors and windows, bank the fires, polish the silver, clean the knives, check the pantry—”

  “If you take one step from this room, Batsfoam, you’ll regret it, so help me God. Now, Charlotte, if you would just listen to me—”

  “Your own sister has a maid,” Charlotte said indignantly, poking him in the chest. “A female one, too. You cannot deny me one. Go ahead. Try to deny me a maid. I’ll wager you won’t find yourself with a leg to stand on if you dare try to deny me the simple necessities of life!”

  “—and then there’s the stables to be mucked out, the chimney pots to be checked, the privy door to be repair
ed—”

  “CHARLOTTE!” Dare roared.

  “WHAT?” she roared back, intent on giving as good as she got.

  Dare breathed heavily for a few seconds, his hands fisted at his side, his jaw taut. “I have no intention of denying you a maid. I simply asked why you wanted Wills as your maid. Batsfoam—don’t.” Batsfoam, reading quite accurately the threat in his employer’s eyes, stopped trying to escape and resigned himself to the inevitable.

  “I don’t want Wills as a maid!” Charlotte cried. Why had she never noticed that Alasdair was all beauty and no brain? “That’s just the point. I don’t want him as a maid, nor do I want Batsfoam. He is totally unsuitable, Alasdair, and even if you don’t care if another man dresses and undresses me, I do! I won’t have it!” She stamped her foot for good measure.

  Dare slowly turned his head from his wife to the butler. “You offered yourself to my lady as her maid?”

  A flicker of what might have been guilt was seen for a fleeting moment before Batsfoam’s expression settled into its usual dour lines. “You instructed me to have the staff do as many jobs as possible in the name of economy, my lord. I felt the addition of a maid for the sole use of her ladyship would not be in best keeping with the sacrifices we are all making on your behalf.”

  “Her maid, Batsfoam?”

  Batsfoam pursed his lips and tried to look contrite. He didn’t succeed particularly well, Charlotte thought.

  “Perhaps I did err in my reasoning, but I assure both my lord and my lady that I had only my kind and most generous lord’s goodwill in mind.”

  Charlotte, all smiles once she realized that Dare hadn’t intended on foisting his butler on her as a maid, allowed her dimples free rein as Dare unburdened himself of a brief lecture to Batsfoam about what consisted of proper duties and what didn’t, ending with the order to hire Charlotte a female lady’s maid in the morning.