Thankfully, Sir Geoffrey hurried on without giving Paul a chance to respond. Which was most likely a good thing, since the words “touch me again and I will slice you into cutlets and feed you to the cat” were trembling on his lips.
Butlers did not, in the general way of things, offer threats to titled guests. But then again, he wasn’t sure if butlers, again in the general rule of things, were touched intimately that often.
He sighed.
Being a butler was turning out to be a bit more complicated than he’d expected.
*~~*~~*
While all these sordid hijinks were taking place downstairs, Harriet had made sure the parlor was prepared for the after-dinner activities, and then decided to personally take the Earl’s dinner upstairs to his rooms. Sensing that perhaps he’d not fancy such an overwhelming meal as the others, she had selected the choicest pieces of meat, a slice of pie, several vegetable and sauce dishes, and an assortment of desserts.
Paul had promised to bring up brandy when he had settled everyone after dinner.
She tapped quietly on the door, surprised when the Earl himself opened it. “Ah, do come in, my dear. I was just reminded by my stomach that it might be wise to eat something, even though I chose to refrain from joining the throng downstairs.” He smiled as she passed by with her tray.
“I hope it will be to your liking, my Lord.” She dipped a curtsey after placing the heavy silver on a side table. “Our cook may not be able to produce some of Carème’s masterpieces, but she has a way with good country fare that makes my mouth water.” Harriet smiled as she removed the covers.
“Mmm.” The Earl inhaled and then closed his eyes. “Takes me back to my childhood. Yes, my dear.” He opened them again, and nodded. “This will do me very well. Game pie, if my senses do not lie?”
“Yes, sir. Fresh and hot from the oven.”
“Perfect.” He rubbed his hands together. “If I might beg the favor of a small brandy after dinner, then I shall be ideally situated.”
“Of course, my Lord. Mr. Paul has promised to make sure you are comfortably settled,” she grinned, “and I know he has set aside a bottle of what he described as excellent brandy just for yourself.”
“Ah, yes. The indomitable Paul. Your husband, I believe.”
The Earl settled himself next to the food and prepared a plate, being generous with almost everything, noted Harriet approvingly. She wasn’t sure whether to leave or not, so she hesitated. “Yes, my Lord.”
“Would you take a few moments and sit, my dear? If you don’t mind watching an old man eat. It would be pleasant to converse over my meal, if you have time, that is.”
How could she refuse such a request? Besides there was something very appealing about this man. His eyes were sharp, and she suspected his mind was even sharper, even though the signs of encroaching age were beginning to make themselves known.
“You are most kind, sir. It would be my pleasure.”
He nodded, savoring his first mouthful of food, then swallowing and nodding. “Excellent indeed. Please relay my profound gratitude to your Cook. If I go on like this I may well have to add gout to my ever growing list of ailments.”
She chuckled, as she knew he meant her to. “I will take it upon myself to make sure that doesn’t happen, my Lord.” She glanced at the tray. “Perhaps I should remove the dessert dish.”
“I will use my cane on you if you try,” he answered, a laugh in his eyes. “Tell me, Mrs. Harry. Do you like being a housekeeper? You seem very young to hold such a position, if you’ll forgive my impertinence.”
Aware that those blue eyes were surveying her from beneath bushy white brows, Harriet chose her words carefully. “It is a challenge, sir, you may be sure. And I have to confess this is my first experience as a housekeeper.” There. Nothing but the truth. “However, circumstances made it necessary for me to assume the position, and I am finding the work exhilarating as well as exhausting.” She smiled.
“Ah, I see.” He took a forkful of roast potatoes and savored them. “Since I’m being rudely prying, I will also ask how long you and young Paul have been married. A fortuitous association, I can well see, since you work together as a team and the result would appear to be satisfactory…” He took a small sip of the ale she’d poured. “Ahhh. Chillendale ale, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Very good, sir,” applauded Harriet, glad to be off the topic of her ‘marriage’. “It is a local favorite and much in demand.”
“I’ll wager your husband laid in a supply.”
“He did indeed.”
“A man of excellent taste. Which is, of course, why he married you.”
Harriet blushed. “You’re too kind.”
“So how longhaveyou two been wed?”
Damn the man. He’d quite cleverly brought the conversation back around to exactly where she didn’t want it. She took a breath. “Our union is of quite recent date, my Lord.”
