Chapter Three
The door to which he led her was opened by a rather flustered butler who gaped at her as she stood next to Sinjun.
“Oh-oh Mr Randall, sir. I was unaware you’d be bringing company.” He cleared his throat. “Of thefemalesort, sir.”
Sinjun grinned. “Is it a problem, Matthews?”
“No sir.” The man gulped. “It’s just that we don’t have any womenfolk here today. Expecting you to be alone, sir, I took the liberty of giving the maids the day off. Sir George said you were looking for somewhere to relax…” His voice tapered off as he shifted nervously from one foot to the other.
“Don’t worry about it. Miss Charis and I are desirous of privacy. I think this will work out very well indeed.” He stepped inside as Charis followed. “I assume Mrs. Chalmers has left plenty of food?”
“Of course sir.” The butler closed the door behind them. “But nothing—well, I mean nothing of a fancy nature, sir.” He looked vaguely distressed. “Just some pie and bread and cheese—gentleman’s fare, sir.”
“I like pie.” Charis smiled at the butler. “And I’m sure it’s a delicious one.”
“Well, yes, Miss.” Matthews nodded. “Makes a very good pie does our cook. Very good indeed.”
“There we are then. It’ll be fine.” Sinjun drew Charis further into the hall. “As I said, Miss Charis and I have business to attend to that will take some time.” He flashed a wicked glance at the butler, still standing rigid by the door. “Are you still paying your respects to that nice widow who runs the dairy?”
Charis watched in fascination as a dull red crept over the man’s cheeks. “Er…”
“Thought so.” Sinjun was unrepentant. “Tell you what, Matthews. Why don’t you take the day off too? I believe we can survive quite nicely all alone here for a day. Come back tomorrow morning, lad. Enjoy some free time. Give that lovely widow’s ample bottom a pinch from me.”
“Sir.” Matthews’ tone was a mixture of eagerness and outrage.
“Run along, man. We’ll be fine.”
Slowly, the butler turned to a door off the hall. “Well, if you’resure, Mr Randall sir?”
“Completely sure. It’s a myth, you know. We can manage quite well without servants for a few hours, no matter what anyone says.”
“Indeed, Matthews.” Charis nodded. “I’ve been quite used to doing for myself, you know.”
“It’s highly irregular.”
Sinjun’s grin widened. “You have no idea.”
“Very well, then, sir. I’ll take my leave.” He bowed respectfully. “Can’t say I’m easy about this whole thing, but Sir George did say you were to be accorded every comfort.”
“And your absence will be a comfort, Matthews. Knowing you’re indulging that randy side of yours will sustain me.”
Muttering various instructions about kitchens and door latches, Matthews finally left Sinjun and Charis alone in the foyer of the house.
“Thank God. I thought he’d never leave.” Sinjun took Charis by the arm. “Come on. Let’s go into the parlor. It’s this way.”
Charis looked around her interestedly. It was not a large house by any standards, but just the sort of place a gentleman could come to on weekends or when he needed a break from town entertainments. The walls were beautifully paneled and the floors shone with many applications of beeswax.
The room Sinjun led her into was just as cozy—a brick fireplace dominated one wall, there were windows letting in the morning sunshine and the furniture was clearly designed more for comfort than for style. A long couch rested beneath a tapestry on one wall and two enormous wing chairs flanked the hearth, bare of wood now but filled with a vase of fresh flowers.
It was quite lovely and a room Charis would probably have created for herself if she’d ever spent time thinking about it.
“Are you ready?”
Sinjun’s voice recalled Charis from her contemplation of her surroundings. “For what?”
“For your ruination to commence, of course.” He shrugged out of his coat and untied his cravat, flinging them both down on a convenient side table.
“But-but-it’sdaylight.” She blinked at him.
