The Bed and the Bachelor

by Tracy Anne Warren

  Cade studied him again as if he weren’t quite satisfied by the answer. “In that case, then, it sounds as if you’re in need of a gentleman’s night out with your brothers and a few male friends. Drinking, gaming and wenching.”

  “None of which your wife or the other wives will allow although I’m sure Leo and Lawrence know the best spots for such activities.”

  “From the reports I’ve heard, they know all the spots, the best and worst alike.” Cade paused, tapping the ash off his now-cold cheroot. “How about an evening in then? A nice dinner, a few rounds of billiards and good conversation. None of the ladies can complain about that. Of course, my town house won’t do,” he mused aloud, “nor will Clybourne House. And I’m sure none of us wants to risk squeezing into the twin’s new digs . . .” He trailed off, leaving a significant silence.

  Drake raised a brow and ruefully shook his head. “I suppose I’m to volunteer my own town house then?”

  Cade smiled as if Drake had just had the most brilliant idea in the world, clapping him on the back. “Excellent notion. I’ll contact the guests, you arrange the supper.”

  Restraining a sigh, Drake agreed.

  The key will be ready in two days more, Sebastianne thought the following morning as she stood in the upstairs hallway, counting the linens and inspecting them for stains and worn spots. Finding one with a small tear along one corner, she pulled it free and set it into a large wicker basket she’d carried upstairs for just such a purpose.

  With her schedule, though, she knew there would be no opportunity to collect the key until Friday next, when she had her regular full day off. She’d taken a big enough risk concocting an excuse that had allowed her to visit the key maker across Town. Coming up with another “urgently” required item for the stillroom might raise curiosity, or worse, suspicion. So she would have to bide her time, waiting for her day off and the freedom it gave her to travel through the city unaccompanied and unnoticed.

  The month Vacheau had allotted her was slipping rapidly past, but she still had nearly two weeks remaining, enough time for her to secure the duplicate key and copy the cipher.

  If only I had both of them now and could leave, everything would be so much easier, she reasoned, ignoring the painful lurch her heart gave at the idea of her inevitable departure from the house and, most especially, its master. But the break would have to be made whether she liked it or not, just as she’d done what was necessary when she’d refused Drake’s offer to become his mistress. Not that she would ever truly have entertained the idea of being any man’s mistress. Yet, in Drake’s case, she had been tempted.

  Lord Drake, she scolded herself. He’s not Drake to you. He’s your employer, not your lover, even if you did spend one astonishingly beautiful night together.

  As for Drake . . . Lord Drake . . . he certainly seemed to have recovered after being summarily turned down. Whenever she saw him—which wasn’t all that often—he was pleasant and polite if a bit reserved. But that was only to be expected, she supposed, given the situation and the fact that she was just a servant.

  His servant. To command in any manner he chose.

  But true to his word, he’d made no further overtures of an amorous nature toward her; it was almost as if the night hadn’t happened. In fact, if she hadn’t had the wax case in her possession and wasn’t having a key cast from it, she might have thought their passionate interlude nothing but a dream.

  Suddenly glancing down, she found her knuckles squeezed white, her fingers clutched around one of the sheets. Instantly releasing it, she took a moment to collect her emotions, then went back to her inspection.

  She was nearly finished when she heard footsteps coming toward her in the hall. Half-hoping it was Drake, she turned toward the sound.

  “Mr. Stowe,” she greeted, lowering her lashes in case disappointment showed in her gaze. “What brings you this way?”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Greenway,” the butler replied. “I have news that I thought required your immediate attention and decided not to wait until you returned belowstairs.”

  “Oh? And what might that be?”

  The older man gave her a faint, almost apologetic smile. “His lordship has decided to host a dinner this evening. Twelve guests, all male, in need of supper and refreshments. I shall leave the menu planning to you and Mrs. Tremble. And, of course, I shall see to the table service myself with Jasper and Lyles assistance.”

  A dinner! Tonight!

  Mince alors, what did she know about arranging a dinner for a bunch of aristocratic gentlemen? The biggest table she’d ever set had been at home for Christmas with her father, brothers and a few neighbors, all come to share the holiday together. When her mother had been alive, they’d had an English plum pudding as well, full of fruit and nuts and whiskey. In Drake’s case, however, she didn’t think pot au feu and a king cake would be in keeping with either the summer season or the company.

  At least, there wouldn’t be any ladies in attendance or the need to provide an array of after-dinner delicacies and tea in the drawing room while the gentlemen relaxed separately over their brandy. Nevertheless, what was Drake thinking to give her and the rest of the staff so little time to prepare?

  Obviously, he believed that, as a lord, his servants ought to be more than capable of readying the house for guests and know how to lay a satisfying meal before them. Even more to the point, he clearly assumed that his housekeeper was up to the task of overseeing every detail of the preparations.

  Which, she thought with a fluttery jiggle in her stomach, remains to be seen.

  Allowing none of her inner turmoil to show, she gave Mr. Stowe a look of easy confidence. “Thank you for bringing the matter to my early attention. I shall finish here with my linen inspection, then be along to consult with maids and kitchen staff.”

  The butler nodded with obvious satisfaction. “Excellent. Mrs. Tremble already has a list of their lordships’ preferred dishes and His Grace’s as well.”

  “His Grace?”

  “Lord Drake’s brother, the Duke of Clybourne. He will likely be in attendance tonight.”

  Mon Dieu, she thought, forcing her eyes not to widen. That’s right, one of Drake’s older brothers is a duke. She hoped he hadn’t invited the Prince Regent along as well. She didn’t think her nerves would be able to take such a revelation. But Stowe made no further alarming remarks about the guest list, giving her another brief smile before turning away.

  She waited until she heard his footsteps recede in the distance; only then did she let her shoulders sag.

  Today is going to be a very long day.

  Chapter 16

  Drake swirled the ruby claret in his glass and listened to his brothers and friends carry on a rousing debate about the war presently raging on the Continent.

  “Wellington will win the day,” Adam Gresham declared, gesturing with the tines of his dinner fork. “He’s on the verge of driving the French out of Madrid, and soon they’ll be out of Spain entirely.”

  “That is the hope,” Edward agreed, taking a swallow from his own glass of wine before setting it back down on the table. “But I wouldn’t count Boney’s forces out yet.”

  “Not even after the beating they took in Russia last year?” Leo challenged. “Field Marshal Ney limped out with fewer than twenty thousand men.”

  “And that’s after beginning the campaign with nearly half a million,” Lawrence added, his square jaw set at an identical angle to his twin’s.

  “And yet they still limped out,” Cade observed with the cool calm of an experienced soldier. “So long as the will remains strong, the battle continues.”

  “True as that may be, I have no doubt we’ll drive Boney from power eventually,” Edward stated in a resolute tone. “The only question is when and at what further cost.”

  Murmurs of agreement issued from around the table.

&nb
sp; Drake sipped his wine, then signaled for the empty dinner plates to be removed. The footmen sprang to attention with sublime efficiency, their actions barely noticed by the gentlemen gathered around the long dining table, the men continuing to talk at a relaxed pace.

  Normally, Drake might have interjected a comment or two himself, but try as he might, he couldn’t quite get into the spirit of the evening despite his brothers’ and friends’ best efforts to provide him with an amusing diversion. He supposed they presumed his silence meant he was lost in another one of his mathematical reveries. He was known for “drifting off,” so that was nothing unusual. But his mind was focused on things he’d be better off not dwelling on—or rather a certain someone who shouldn’t be on his mind.

  I am not thinking about her tonight! he told himself as he tossed back the last of the claret in his glass.

  This was a celebration, and, by God, he ought to be celebrating, whether or not she was somewhere in the house.

  Belowstairs, most likely, working in her office, or the stillroom perhaps. Bah, he cursed inwardly, shoving the thought away.

  Across the room, Stowe stood pouring glasses of brandy. Drake had told him to forgo serving the port since there had been no resolution as of yet concerning the suspect bottle from which Drake had drunk a few days ago.

  The night he’d been drugged.

  The night he’d made love to Anne.

  Drake stared, noticing Niall Faversham wave a hand in the air to highlight whatever it was he was saying. Drake forced himself to listen, wishing he were enjoying himself as much as his companions.

  There’d been talk earlier of playing a few hands of cards. Perhaps that would divert him. Cards were his brother Jack’s area of expertise, but he could count them as well as his talented brother when he wished to go to the bother. He had no interest in winning money from anyone; but maybe he would dust off his old skills tonight if for no other reason than to occupy his mind. Surely, if he was busy calculating odds and remembering clubs from spades, he wouldn’t have time to dwell on her.

  Then suddenly she was there, entering the dining room for the first time that evening. In her hands she held an elegant glass bowl containing what appeared to be a beautifully made trifle—cake, custard and liquor-soaked fruit layered into a heavenly confection.

  No one else seemed aware of her arrival as she glided on silent feet toward the sideboard on the far side of the room, where the footmen had stacked dessert plates for service. Setting down her burden without so much as a glance his way, she picked up a large silver spoon and began carefully dividing out portions.

  Drake reached for the brandy Stowe had just set before him and took a hearty swallow.

  “Incredible that she had the entire Ton duped,” Faversham said. “Philipa Stockton was a calculating vixen, I’ll grant you that, but who would have thought she was in league with the French?”

  Across the room, one of the plates rattled.

  “Have they set a date for her trial?” Cade asked in a serious tone.

  Edward shook his head. “Not yet, but soon I hear. She’s been quite forthcoming with information of late, no doubt in hopes of gaining leniency. Prison has a way of loosening stubborn tongues.”

  “And will they give her leniency?” Adam inquired.

  “Considering how attractive she is, I wouldn’t be surprised if she manages to gain the judges’ sympathy,” Faversham remarked.

  “Unless she slept with one of them, then cast him off,” Leo said with a smile.

  “Or cast all of them off!” Lawrence quipped.

  Chuckles filled the air.

  Lord Howland, however, gave a derisive sniff. “Well, if you ask me, she deserves everything she gets for being a damned spy. Woman or not, they ought to put her on the gallows and let her hang.”

  A clatter rent the air, as the big silver spoon Anne Greenway had been using to serve dessert, slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor—cake, cream and fruit splattering over the boards.

  She bent down quickly and reached for the utensil, clutching it in a white-knuckled grasp as she whirled to face the assembled company, her face flushed and golden eyes wide.

  “My most sincere apology for the interruption, gentlemen,” she said in a rush. “Pray forgive my clumsiness and continue on with your discussion as if I am not even here. I shall have your dessert served and this mess cleaned up in a trice.”

  “And how could we pretend not to notice such loveliness in our midst?” Leo piped, displaying an engaging, white-toothed smile. “Forgive us for not taking note of your presence immediately, ma’am. We were obviously suffering from temporary blindness.”

  Lawrence gave an identical smile. “Just so. To my way of thinking, your interruption is exactly what this sorry lot of males needs to break up all the serious talk of politics and war. This is supposed to be a party, after all.”

  Anne said nothing as the footmen, Jasper and Lyles, appeared. She stepped slightly aside as they began wiping the floor clean with pair of cloths. Mr. Stowe took the opportunity to walk to the silver chest at the far end of the room to retrieve a new spoon.

  “See?” Leo observed. “There’s no harm done. Just a tad of pudding and cake that’s easily mopped away. Is that not right, Drake?”

  For his part, all Drake could do was stare, his heart beating in a vicious thrum as he took in the light dusting of pink across her cheeks and the soft strawberry tint of moist lips that were parted with clear embarrassment. “No,” he murmured. “No harm done at all.”

  On his left, he saw Cade give him a long, speculative look, one chestnut eyebrow raised high.

  Ignoring him, Drake lowered his own gaze and reached again for his glass of brandy, hoping the liquor might help his pulse to slow to its normal rhythm.

  “Clearly, the twins have the advantage of the rest of us, presumably having already met you . . . Mrs. Greenway, is it?” Edward said with a curious expression in his own blue eyes.

  “Yes, my lord, how do you do,” Anne replied before sinking into a surprisingly elegant curtsey.

  Edward smiled.

  Only then did Drake realize how strangely loath he was to introduce her to the others. Not because he was embarrassed by her but because he didn’t want to share. Until now, in its own way, she had been all his. Except for the twins, of course. Odd they hadn’t gone blabbing to everyone else in the family, but apparently not. Still, it would seem that matters had gone too far not to make introductions.

  “Gentlemen,” Drake announced gruffly, “this is my housekeeper, Anne Greenway. Mrs. Greenway has been in my employ for the past several weeks now and has been a fine addition to my staff.”

  “I’m sure she has,” Howland remarked.

  “Wish I had a housekeeper like her,” Faversham shot back in an undertone that still managed to carry.

  Drake’s jaw tightened, wanting to tell them to keep their rude comments to themselves. “Allow me to make you known to the company, Mrs. Greenway,” he continued.

  She linked her hands together, burying them in her skirts. “Oh, that isn’t necessary, my lord.”

  “I believe it is.”

  And suddenly, oddly, he wanted her to know his family—the male half anyway. As for his friends . . .

  “I’ll start around the table, left to right. My brother, Cade.”

  Cade inclined his head, the speculative expression still on his face.

  “You know Leopold and Lawrence, of course.”

  The twins sent her a pair of identical grins.

  “Next to them is my brother-in-law, Adam, Earl of Gresham.”

  Adam sent her a pleasant smile and nod.

  “Friends, Lord Howland and Mr. Faversham.”

  Drake didn’t give either of them a chance to reply.

  “And my eldest brother, Edward, Duke of Clybourne. I’ve one addi
tional brother, Jack, but he is presently in the country with his wife and children. I’ve two sisters as well.”

  Why he’d decided to volunteer that last bit of information, he didn’t quite know.

  “Your Grace,” she murmured, turning her attention once again to Edward. “Forgive my error from before. I did not realize whom I was addressing.”

  Edward sent her a friendly look. “No harm. It’s rather nice sometimes not being known straightaway as a duke.”

  She dipped her chin in gracious reply.

  A moment later, she straightened her shoulders, her normal color returning to her cheeks as her gaze roved over all the men at the dining table. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances, my lords and gentlemen,” she said with all the aplomb of an educated, well-mannered lady. “And I thank you for the kind introduction, Lord Drake. However, if you will permit me, I believe Mr. Stowe has retrieved a fresh spoon, and dessert still awaits. Shall I serve now?”

  Rousing murmurs of agreements went around the table. She turned away then and resumed service.

  Cade leaned close, and whispered, “I see the trouble now. She’s very pretty.”

  Drake sipped his brandy. “She is my housekeeper. Nothing more.”

  Cade didn’t remark further, reaching for his fork as a plate laden with a delectable-looking trifle was set before him.

  Moments after, Drake followed his lead and did the same.

  Sebastianne smothered a yawn as she climbed the servants’ staircase to the main floor several hours later, the clock having struck two in the morning some minutes past. Despite Mr. Stowe’s being in charge of the dining room and its guests, she’d been up and down the stairs numerous times that evening, attending to one matter or another during Lord Drake’s dinner party.

  But now, thankfully, the evening was over, and the last of the gentlemen had gone home, leaving her and the other servants free to end their duties and seek the comfort of their beds. As for herself, she planned to do one final check of the house to make sure everything had been properly cleared, cleaned and put away, then she would continue on to her bedchamber.