“Yes.” Her voice vibrated against his chest as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, even as she sat sprawled across his thighs in an undignified heap. The fight went out of her in a rush, and she lifted her gaze to his. Her eyes blinked in a rapid flutter with the slightest glistening. This was a woman who did not cry easily.
She bolted up, nearly kneeing him in the nether regions. “Oh my God. It just occurred to me—some of your memory has returned.”
“That’s what I adore about you. Your optimism.” He was sorely tempted to take her again, but he’d been too rough, and kissed her soundly instead. “Come. The one servant in this house is liable to return and explore our unusual thumping about. We have a wedding to plan.”
“Oh no, we don’t.”
“Damn it, Maeve.”
“Enough!”
She was wrong, but Harlowe let it go for now.
Twenty
M
aeve started down the stairs as she pulled on her white kid gloves. One thing she could attribute to Rowena Hollerfield, the housewassplendid. At the bottom of the stairs, she glanced at the long clock. She was scheduled to meet Lorelei and Ginny within the hour for shopping at Trotter’s Bazaar. Trotter’s was located on a corner of Soho Square which, thankfully, would only take twenty minutes depending on the carriage traffic. Meaning, if she didn’t leave soon, she would be late. She wished to talk to Agnes regarding their evening meal first.
Strolling through the luxurious townhome thrilled her. She’d been in residence less than a sennight, but the sense of freedom exhilarated her with every step. From the entry hall, she turned to the back of the house and went down another set of steps to the kitchens. She had yet to hire an experienced cook, but Agnes did a wonderful job despite her youthfulness.
As Maeve neared the bottom, Parson’s voice came from the kitchens in a scathing hiss. “Her ladyship requires perfection when it comes to her morning fast.” Maeve had experienced Parson’s condescension on more than one occasion.
Heat-filled fury crawled up her neck. In her estimation, Agnes had managed the house stupendously. She reached the kitchens and found Agnes standing as rigid as a pole, even with Parson’s larger form angling over her with intimidating purpose. “And her toast, lightly browned.”
“I ain’t heard her complainin’ yet,” Agnes said in a low, steel voice.
Maeve half expected Agnes’s fist to swing up. “Parson,” Maeve snapped. “A moment please.”
“But—”
“Now.” Maeve swiveled on her heel and went up the stairs to the morning room. Like all rooms in this beautiful townhome, it was a large chamber with a huge window that looked out over a garden that at one time was probably breathtaking but now sadly neglected. The dining table was small for the space—a heavy round oak that would seat no more than six. There was a blazing fire in the grate that softened chill. The walls were papered with gold-threaded silk. The hanging pictures were of art rather than people. Landscapes and stills of different varieties. Maeve even ventured to think she recognized one or two original Harlowes. She would have smiled if not for the unpleasant task ahead.
Parson followed her, as Maeve knew she would. Maeve took a seat on a comfortable settee near the fire but didn’t offer the same to her maid. “Please explain yourself.”
“I’m sorry, milady. The girl is quite insolent.”
“In what way?”
Parson’s thin lips disappeared in her displeasure.
Maeve considered her for a long moment until Parson shifted her feet under Maeve’s scrutiny. It wasn’t in Maeve to be cruel. “Does it bother you?”
“What, milady?”
“Living in this house?”
The red in her face darkened. “Well, it did belong to a famous…”
“Demimonde?”
She gave a short nod.
Maeve’s gaze went to the window as she drummed her fingers on her knee, choosing her words carefully. “I should hate to lose you, Parson. But it’s clear to me that this relationship has been doomed since my return to London after Alymer’s passing.” She let out a sigh and faced Parson. “This is not an easy decision for me. Please pack your things. I’ll write you a reference.” Maeve stood. “I’m sure my mother will be thrilled to have you back at Ingleby House.”
Parson’s shock, despite her silence, seem to reverberate through the room.
Maeve watched her with a steady, unblinking gaze. “That will be all.”
