“Well, it’s just…” she hugged it to her, “…delicious.”
His lips curled into a grin. “Here’s an idea. Take it to your room and air it out. If you really like it, then let’s keep its presence a secret between us.”
“Oh, but shouldn’t we…”
“No, we shouldn’t. Go.” He folded the blanket as best he could, shoved it into Harriet’s arms and turned her, pushing her down the corridor.
“All right then, I will. Thank you,” she tossed over her shoulder.
In spite of the savory aroma the fur carried with it, Harriet couldn’t regret her selection. She arranged it over the end of her bed, realizing that at one point it had probably been a blanket, albeit a rather decadently heavy one. There was a wide piece of trim along one side that showed signs of some very thick embroidery. It would have been perfect for a sleigh ride on a bitter and snowy night.
Her room would indeed smell as if someone had cooked a tasty meal in it, but it would be worth it to be able to run her hand over something so amazingly soft, yet warmer than any quilt.
It was…sensual, she realized. One of those moments she seemed to be having more frequently these days. A thought galloped through her brain and she wondered what it would be like to lie naked on that fur.
Shocked at herself, she blushed, and then hurried from her room, closing the door with a snap. Thoughts like that would get her nowhere, and soon the company would be arriving. She did not have time to indulge in erotic fantasies.
Reaching the hallway, she looked down into the hall to see Paul straightening his cravat in the mirror.
Damn the man. It was hard to suppress erotic fantasies when one was walking around the houseall the time.
*~~*~~*
Paul was amazed at how smoothly the arrival of the shooting party proceeded.
The bustle of the carriages containing the guests, another with their servants and baggage, and a final luggage wagon, covered with a weatherproof oilskin, kept all the servants busy for most of the morning.
He and Harriet assumed their expected positions as the travellers entered, pleased to note that each introduced him or herself. Paul wouldn’t have known any of them otherwise.
“Pennister, Farren Pennister,” said the oldest gentleman to Paul, as he handed his heavy cape to a nearby footman.
Paul bowed. “Welcome, Sir Farren. May I introduce your housekeeper, Mrs. Harry. Your rooms are ready, sir, and between us I hope we can make your stay as comfortable as possible.”
Sir Farren nodded, acknowledging Harriet’s curtsey with a quick smile, then turning to the lady entering behind him. “My wife, Lady Aphrodite. She brought her maid.”
“As if I couldpossiblytravel without Jeanne,” gushed Lady Aphrodite, blond curls waving delicately around features that had doubtless branded her an Incomparable. She might even be younger than Harriet in years, but her gestures and language betrayed a woman well-versed in Society’s ways. “Darling, this is justdelightful.” Her eyes roamed the hall. “So…so…rural, don’t you think?”
Harriet nobly stepped into the following silence. “My Lady, we have prepared a suite for you. If you would care to see it and freshen up after what I’m sure must have been an arduous journey…?”
“You’re…?”
“I’m Mrs. Harry, my Lady. Your housekeeper for the time that you’re here.” She curtseyed once more.
“Very well,” Lady Aphrodite nodded, dismissing Harriet from her thoughts. “Jeanne? Where’s Jeanne? Flirting with the driver, no doubt…”
“I will make sure she knows where to find you, my Lady,” bowed Paul. “I am your butler. Paul.”
Lady Aphrodite’s eyes narrowed as Paul approached her, and she surveyed him from his eyebrows to his boots. “Well, goodness me.” She neared him and smiled seductively. “How charming you are, Paul. I’msureI shall enjoy havingyouas my butler.”
Paul managed to refrain from an obvious gulp. “Ah. I believe this must be your maid?” He quickly backed away and gestured to a woman loaded down with obviously feminine fripperies.
She was entering with two men, who were laughing loudly at something and shedding their fashionable hats and capes, not even looking to see where they ended up.
“Ho, Farren. Nice digs, don’t you think?” He noticed Harriet. “And I like the furniture.” He leered at her. “Can I have this one as my chambermaid?”
“Don’t be silly, darling.” Lady Aphrodite’s voice cut through the bustle. “She’s the housekeeper. Hands off or you won’t get dinner, you naughty boy.”
Sir Farren glanced at Harriet. “Don’t mind him, Mrs. Harry. Everyone is full of good cheer. It is the holidays after all.” He waved a hand at the man. “Sir Ambrose Hacklebury-Smythe—my brother-in-law.”
