“Don’t you Miss Merrinan me, John Cuthbert.” Her eyes shot daggers at him before she glowered at the lot. “I’ve your attention at last and will damn well use it.”
One could have heard a pin drop, the room fell suddenly so still.
“Now, you louts, listen up. I will no longer tolerate the disrespect you continue to show me. I may be Lord Wellesley’s mistress, but I am housekeeper here too, and that position affords me control of the Abbey, under which roofyoureside. So unless you wish to eat in the filthy stables where you sleep, you will behave yourselves in this kitchen, in these halls, and towards my person. Have I made myself clear,gentlemen?” The word was vinegar on her tongue.
They stared at her, slack-jawed with equal parts horror and horn.
“Today our new cook, Mrs. Jenkins, arrives—a respected, upstanding widow whose culinary powers will have you slobbering like dogs. And though you don’t deserve to lick thepots she cooks in, you will behave yourselves in her presence or I swear to God I’ll castrate every one of you in your sleep.”
They continued to stare up at her, rapt, though it might have been her bosom that enthralled them most, she wasn’t sure. Even Cuthbert looked impressed.
“And if a one of you so much as breathes a hint of my relations with his lordship to Mrs. Jenkins or anyone else in all of Cumberland, I’ll have no qualms informing his lordship you dared lay hands on me. Andthen, gentlemen, we’ll see what ‘his grace’ does with you. And this only after I’ve cut off your puny cleppets.”
“Now that’s not fair, lass,” one of them piped up, looking confused by the word cleppets. “We’ve ne’er once laid a finger on yer, an’ y’ knows it.”
She narrowed her eyes to slits. “Aye,” she hissed, “yet I’ll perjure myself to hell, I will. I shall knowingly swear lies upon the Holy Bible just to see you louts suffer.”
That seemed to finally cow them.
“But neither am I cruel, lads, for if you promise me this, if you treat me with respect, keeping my reputation intact, I’ll give you what you want most of all.”
“What we want?” scoffed a voice. “Said yerself you’ll not splay yer legs fer us, woman.”
She bit her tongue from lashing back and instead inhaled a breath. “’Tis true, boys, I do but one man’s bidding in bed and that’s his lordship.” It almost physically hurt Charles to say this. “However, I’ve arranged for the village madam to service you all, two a night she’ll take for modest coin. But only if you give me your word, each of you now, that you will keep my relations with Lord Wells secret.”
She’d been appalled by all Miss Griswald had told her—more appalled, in fact, that she’d not been more shocked by the woman’s crass words. Because what Charles now did daily withhis lordship at the Abbey was no different, really, than what Mamie did for blunt. Wellesley had told her a mistress was no whore, but from what the village madam had explained, little seemed to separate the two.
And the idea these men all saw her as such was unbearable.
She caught Cuthbert’s eye, who nicked his head in tacit approval before he stepped forward to interject.
“Oi!” he shouted above the fray. “You’ve me word, Miss Merrinan.” He looked serious. “I’ll keep me mouth shut.” He poked the man next to him.
“Aye, you’ve mine, too,” the man grumbled.
“An’ mine,” said another.
“Hell, if there’s a woman for us I’ll stay mum,” shouted one.
“Aye!” came shouts from several more until each man, at last, had sworn an oath.
Charles exhaled relief. “Good,” she told them. “Decide who sees Miss Griswald first, and I’ll arrange she take those men tonight.”
The room burst into raucous debate as she caught Cuthbert looking displeased he’d have to manage the ruckus she’d just caused. Then she quietly slipped out, grabbing a bite of yesterday’s loaf for breakfast and making her way to the sea room for some blessed peace and quiet.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Wells rolled up his sleeves as he approached the worksite, the crack of stone being hewn punctuating the brisk morning air. He spotted Adams and made his approach.
“Put me to work, sir. I’ve a need for it.”
“Milord, I don’t know as ’tis wise for?—”
“I don’t care if it’s wise, man,” Wells stated gruffly. “I pay your wages and I’ll work my own wall if I please.”
“As y’ like, Wells.” Adams dared the informal. “Only if y’ work my styan, y’ work for me too, sir.”
The two men’s gazes met.
