She grinned back. “Don’t goMa’am-ingme, Mr Cheeky. I seen you nabbin’ them peaches last week, of’f Fred Dibbin’s tree.”
Gwyneth couldn’t help laughing at Jeremy’s blush. “Jeremy. You werescrumping?”
“‘E were that, m’Lady. Broad daylight too.”
“It had to be in daylight. Fred lets his dogs out at night.” Jeremy sighed. “They guard those trees as if they bore florins instead of fruits.” He shrugged. “I was testing them to see if they were ready for Lady Gwyneth. Don’t tell Fred, but those peaches need a few more days of sunshine. Too early to be really juicy. Made my mouth pucker.”
“Them’s the wages o’ sin, lad.” Mrs B gave him the look that probably reduced him to about eight years old.
Gwyneth reminded herself to practice her own version of that look. It would doubtless come in handy in when dealing with her household.
Jeremy took himself off and she turned to pour tea and put one or two of Evan’s perfect tiny cakes on a plate for Mrs B.
“So which one yer takin’ ter yer bed, then?”
Gwyneth fumbled and nearly dropped the teapot at the question.“What?”
Mrs B smiled silkily. “Dearie, I bin ‘ere at Wolfbridge more years’n you got on this earth. Seen more ’n a few Ladies come an’ go, an’ plenty o’ these ‘ere gentlemen o’ yourn. What ‘appens inside these walls ain’t nobody’s business but yers. ‘Owever, I got to know them ladies an’ they all ‘ad the same problem.”
“They did?” Gwyneth stared, open-mouthed.
“Yep.” Mrs B nodded. “None ‘o them could pick just one.” She bit into a tea cake and chewed with obvious relish. “Oh they ‘ad a bit of a time fixin’ on the notion they could ‘ave any of ‘em. But once they got that in their ‘eads, it was all ‘bout which one.”
Sitting down, because all of a sudden her knees had become a bit wobbly, Gwyneth decided not to risk picking up her teacup just yet, although a sip of the warm liquid would have been most welcome. “So…er…how did they decide?”
“I dunno.” Mrs B reached for another cake. “Damn, these are ‘bout the best things ever.” She chewed with delight. “Far as I can tell, m’Lady, yer starts wi’ one o’ yer men, an’ then…”
“And then…?” Holding her breath, Gwyneth waited for an answer.
“Try more. Or all at once. Or two at a time. Whatever yer wants, m’Lady. Whatever yer wants.” Mrs B’s voice firmed. “Them lads are ‘ere for yer. Only yer. So yer gotta get past that feelin’ like yer a wicked lass for takin’ what yer want from ‘em.”
Gwyneth stared. The advice was practical and logical. But oh so…wickedwas indeed the right word.
“Shocked yer, didn’ I?” Mrs B grinned with amusement.
“Yes,” choked Gwyneth. “You certainly did.”
“Trouble is,” she sipped tea, licked her lips, and then looked back at Gwyneth. “Trouble is, yer all raised ter beladylike.” She spoke the word as if it tasted sour. “Best yer be raisedwomanlike. Ready ter do them woman things, like ‘avin’ kids, puttin’ together and keepin’ a family. An’ not bein’ ashamed of lovin’ men. An’ we know that ain’t always the easiest row to hoe.”
“Indeed,” agreed Gwyneth. “Although if we were free to choose the men we loved, that row would go much more smoothly.” She sighed. “I take your point.”
“So my advice ter yer? Start with one o’ them, then try a couple more. Ye’ll know sooner or later which one’s right fer yer.”
Gwyneth rolled her eyes, unable to stop a spurt of laughter. “You are so wise, Mrs B. But do understand that even if I take your advice, I’m not going to tell you about any of it.”
“Well, damn, m’Lady. Never say yer a spoilsport…Dashed all me ‘opes for them saucy details, yer ‘ave.”
The consequent laughter from both ladies rattled the teacups.
*~~*~~*
Seeing Mrs B had distracted Gwyneth enough that she had almost forgotten about the letter she’d received. But once alone again, her thoughts revolved back to that problem.
She’d not told Giles of the specific threat to her; but was glad she’d given the letter to him. The fact that someone knew her“darkest secret” might have been an idle one, but since it specified that not even her husband had known, she was certain there was only one matter to which the blackmailer was referring. And it had been buried so far in her past that she was astonished and shocked anyone had learned of it.
Which brought her back to the main question that plagued her. And probably plagued Giles as well.Who? Who could have discovered all that information? As to the whys of it…well probably demands for money. Greed lay at the bottom of so many unpleasant situations; why should this be any different?
She sat in the Rose room after lunch, a book open on her lap, her mind turning over the issue and coming up with not a single useful idea. It would have to be someone who was familiar with her family’s home, a modest house in a small town, not notable for anything in particular.
