I’d like to drown you in your water basin.
“How can I help, Lord Devon?”
His eyes narrowed at her sweet tone. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like more tarts.”
Thea gritted her teeth. He’d eaten half a dozen of them just this morning, for pity’s sake.
“But you look cross, Miss Sheridan. Itisn’ttoo much trouble, is it?”
“Of course not. It’s just . . .” Thea nodded at his plate. “You haven’t finished those yet.”
He gave her an angelic smile. “Those are cold.”
“I’m afraid there aren’t any fresh ones.” She hadn’t had a spare moment to bake, what with running up and down the stairs on his every whim.
“Make more, then.”
Thea pressed her lips together as hard as she could to keep herself from screaming. “Very well, my lord.” She snatched the plate from the table and turned to leave, but he stopped her before she’d taken two steps toward the door. “One moment, if you please.”
When she turned, he was holding up one of the books she’d brought earlier. “Fordyce’s Sermons, Miss Sheridan? In fear for my immortal soul, are you? I’m touched by your concern, but I’m afraid it’s too late for me to mend my wicked ways now.”
She walked back to him and jerked the book from his hand with more force than she’d intended. “Perhaps it would help if you told me what you’d like to read?”
His lips twitched, then, “How aboutMemoirs of a Woman of Pleasure? Surely you have that in the library?”
Oh, the maddening man. Her cheeks went so hot she wanted to stick her own head in the basin, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. “You told me you don’t like novels.”
“It’s not a novel. It’s a memoir.”
Thea snorted. “A courtesan who never catches a disease? It sounds like fiction to me.”
He laughed. “I’m shocked to find you know so much about Fanny Hill’s adventures, Miss Sheridan.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m certain we don’t have that book in our library.”
“Nonsense. Everyone has that book, whether they choose to admit it or not, and it sounds to me like you’ve read it, so it must be there. I’m sure a thorough search will turn it up. Make sure you check the spine of each and every book until you find it, won’t you? Perhaps I’ll have you up later this afternoon to read it to me.”
Such a pity to disappoint his lordship, but Thea knew beyond a doubt she wouldn’t find that book, no matter how hard she searched.
She dropped a stiff curtsey and turned for the door again.
“Where do you suppose you’re going? I haven’t dismissed you.” He took another bite of the tart, his eyes drifting closed. “One more thing, if you please.”
Dear God in heaven, what now? “Yes?”
“I fancy a bath. Have the footmen bring up the water at once.”
Thea bit her tongue until it bled, but she managed to keep her voice even. “It’s Boxing Day. All the servants have a holiday today, and even if they didn’t, they won’t serve you. The footmen, or the housemaids.”
“That nonsense still? None of them would last a fortnight in London.”
“You mean to say every lord in London is as arrogant and intolerable as—ah, that is . . . I apologize on the servants’ behalf, my lord.”
“No matter. You’ll just have to fetch my bath yourself.”
Blast it. It would take her the rest of the morning to drag the buckets up all those stairs, but it would give him far too much satisfaction if she protested.
“Wouldn’t you rather have a walk, my lord?” She glanced around the darkened bedchamber. He refused to let her open the drapes, and the room was gloomy and stale. “Some fresh air would do you a world of good.”
