I moved to his side. “Do you need…?”
“To piss? Yes, I do.”
With some effort, I was able to assist him.
He clearly was not pleased.
And, despite my previous efforts to avoid looking at his cock, now I got a view.
Impressive.
Once he was finished, I disposed of the contents of the chamber pot. “Are you ready for food?”
“Wine. Whisky. I don’t care.”
I hesitated.
“You said you were here to assist me. So assist me.”
“Of course. With stew. Cook wanted something easy but hearty for you tonight. She will recommence her regular meals tomorrow. Do you have any preferences?”
His expression was absolutely incredulous. “I have been living off army rations for years now—only occasionally able to eat…proper food. I will, with gratitude, take whatever I can get.”
He was slender. Like he had gone without. I had assumed that was because of his injury, but perhaps he was that way due to circumstances.
More guilt that I had been here, admittedly working, but away from the fighting. Helping keep Crosswood functioning hardly compared to a commission in the army. I snagged the tray.
“You ate my food?” No missing the amused tone.
I smiled back. “I sent your tray back to the kitchen. I have to say, the meal was delicious. I shall return in a moment.” I bowed, then headed out of the room and down the servant’s staircase. I could have rung, but I wanted to see to this myself.
The kitchen was empty, save Cook, who sat with a pile of papers.
I tilted my head.
“Deciding what to prepare his lordship. I was not here fifteen years ago, when he was in residence. I have no idea of his preferences.”
“I shall ask him. Although he did state anything other than army rations would be appreciated. The stew is perfect for tonight. Perhaps something lighter for tomorrow?”
“Chicken?”
“I believe he would be grateful. I can query him as to his preferences for future meals. We also are aware he needs to begin entertaining. Once he is better able to go up and down stairs.”
Cook moved to the stove, grabbed a bowl, and ladled some stew. Then she grabbed a roll and added a pat of butter in a small ceramic container. “Yes, please ask him. I wish him to be satisfied with the meals.”
“You always provide stupendous meals, and I am certain you will continue to do so in the future.”
She eyed me for a long moment before indicating I was free to take the tray.
I gave the older woman a peck on the cheek.
She swatted me away.
Her presence at Crosswood had been welcome—especially with all the illness the family had faced. Her steady hand in the kitchen had kept the house running. With Wiggins and Fortescue guiding as well. The estate had fared well, despite the upheaval.
I was almost out the door when I realized my mistake. The omission. “The master would like some wine or whisky.”
“He is not getting whisky with my stew.” Cook moved to the pantry and pulled out a bottle. “I retrieved this from the wine cellar earlier. We will need to replenish the stock. Mr. William…”
