“I shall show you that as well, yes.” Charles hurried downstairs to grab paper and ink to start another long list. She intended to sit down with Lord Wellesley that evening to make a few things abundantly clear.
“Madam,” Wells started, his mouth crammed full of food as he simultaneously attempted to swallow and speak, for he was that hungry after the day’s labor—and his palate that pleased. “You’ve outdone yourself, truly.” He gobbled another mouth-watering bite. “I am beyond impressed.” His satisfied smile made the widow beam.
“Well then, you enjoy your meal, milord. Looks as if you’ve earned it.” She took in his disheveled state with a critical eye as Wells looked down at his rolled-up shirtsleeves and recalled the scratch marring his cheek. The scratch still smarted.
“Mmm.” He tried to speak again. “Best damn meal I’ve had in months.” He checked himself. “Begging your pardon, Mrs. Jenkins.”
“No offense taken, milord.” She gave him a bright smile. “Miss Merrinan said you’d appreciate my cookin’, and I see now as she were right.”
Only at the mention of his housekeeper Wellesley’s humor turned; he was still hurt by her behavior from the morning.
“Has she seen you well settled, madam?”
“She has, sir. A fine housekeeper you’ve hired in Charles. Everyone knows that girl for t’ good head on her shoulders. Smartest young lady for miles, t’ come from sech family as hers.”
But before he could ask what she meant by ‘such family,’ Miss Merrinan herself appeared, stopping short at the doorway to see him still shoveling food into his mouth.
She proceeded to ignore him. “Mrs. Jenkins, I came to enquire if?—”
“If it were time for dinner? Aye.” The widow laughed. “Only his lordship here found me first, and starvin’ man that he were, set t’ eatin’ afore I could even set him a proper plate.”
Charles scowled at Wells, who chose to ignore her too.
“Well, you let me know when he has finished”—the impertinent miss spoke right over his head—“and then I’ll send the others up with Cuthbert.” She paused. “And if you’d like to dine separately with me, Mrs. Jenkins, you may find it considerably more agreeable than sharing a table with Almsdale’shorde.”
And out she flounced as Wells continued his meal, deciding he was not done being angry at her, either.
Later that evening, as Wells soaked his aching body in the delicious hot bath he’d found waiting in his room, his housekeeper marched in unannounced. She had her ledger in hand and pulled up a chair beside him.
“You might have knocked,” he muttered.
“And you might have sent me away.”
“I may still.”
“Then I’d best be quick.” She tossed him a look as he sank below the water, refusing to respond to her sass.
When he eventually came up he found her still there, glaring at him. “Go on then,” he growled, “out with it.”
“You did not tell me Mrs. Jenkins required a scullery and sous-chef.”
“Well that’s a housekeeper’s job to figure out, now isn’t it?”
“I can hardly figure something out when I am denied information, my lord.”
“Really?” He raised a brow. “And here I thought you clever, Charles.”
He watched her swallow, as if debating her retort.
“We are going to require additional staff, my lord, if you wish to see Almsdale restored sooner rather than later.”
Wells found her formal tone amusing.
“There will be more laundry now, and if I’m to prepare more rooms, I shall need help cleaning. I will need at least two more girls to handle this work, plus the two Jenkins needs in her kitchen, and if you wish to entertain, my lord, we will need footmen as well, for I do not think a single one of your men capable of?—”
He cut her off. “I shallnotbe entertaining.” Then he promptly sank back underwater and remained there a good long while. When he resurfaced, he saw alarm etched on her face.
Wells could hold his breath for ages. What he could not always hold was his tongue. “Why must you pester me with household details, woman, when I wish only to relax in my bath?”
