It was a compliment, Harry knew. Still, he was having a difficult time reconciling this new perspective on Black and his granddaughter with what he knew of them.
Heavy steps shuffled into the kitchen, and Mrs. Gates greeted the newcomer. “Good morning, Lizzie. Is Miss Tessa ready for her tray?”
Lizzie, a robust woman with a perpetually downturned mouth, shook her head. “Told me last night that she weren’t to be disturbed this morning. Wanted to stay abed, she said.”
The words roused Harry’s suspicion. “From what I’ve observed, Miss Todd is an early riser.”
“A week and you got her pegged, have you?” Lizzie’s arms crossed beneath her ample bosom, her expression reminding him of a bulldog’s. “Well, I’ve been with Miss Tessaten years, and I daresay I know her better than you.”
Of the staff, the lady’s maid had been the only one to take an antagonistic attitude toward Harry.
Aping her mistress, no doubt.
“It is my job to understand Miss Todd’s patterns,” he said.
“It’smyjob to see her wishes obeyed,” Lizzie shot back. “And she don’twantto be disturbed.”
Rather than argue, he headed for his charge’s bedchamber.
The house had servants’ passages constructed throughout, and he took the stairs to the first floor, Lizzie huffing and puffing behind him. He paid her no mind, opening the panel and exiting onto the hallway. Passing gilt-framed landscapes, he strode towards Miss Todd’s suite and knocked briskly on her door.
“Miss Todd, this is Bennett,” he said.
When there was no reply, premonition knotted his gut.
“She’s still sleeping.” Lizzie’s indignant voice came from behind him. “Stop that racket before you wake her up.”
He knocked louder. “Answer me, or I’m coming in.”
“Don’t you dare open that door!” Lizzie screeched.
He tested the door handle. Locked.Of bloody course.
Rearing back, he charged shoulder-first at the door. The barrier flew open, and he had an instant to register the empty room before an icy torrent rushed over him. Dumbfounded, he swung his head up, swiping at his spectacles to clear his vision.
Through the clinging droplets, he saw an empty bucket over the door. It was suspended by a system of ropes and pulleys, the mechanism triggered by a string tied to the door handle. He might have been impressed by the complexity of the apparatus if he wasn’t so furious.
Steam fogged his lenses.
“Told you not to open the door,” Lizzie said.
At his smoldering glare, she shrugged and left.
A drop of water slid down his brow. He ripped off his spectacles, searching his coat pockets for a handkerchief. A snarl left him when that came out sopping wet as well.
This is the last bloody straw.He stalked down the hallway. He’d played by a gentleman’s rules, taken the higher road—no more. He was going to hunt the chit down and when he did…there would be hell to pay.
7
“Youdidn’t,”Pretty Francie gasped.
“Oh, yes, I did,” Tessa said. “As I speak, Sam Bennett is likely getting the soaking of his life.”
Her three friends—Pretty Francie, Belinda, and Daisy—looked at her. At each other.
Laughter rang through the room.
A half-hour earlier, Tessa had slipped into The Underworld, the pleasure house owned by her father. She’d been coming to the club for as long as she could remember. When her mama had died giving birth to her, her father had been left with the care of an infant. A busy man who couldn’t be bothered with domestic details, he’d simply brought her along to work.
