Was she scandalized by his claim he had washed hair before? He hadn’t actually washed a woman’s hair before, but he had certainly washed the earl’s hair. Nearly every week for the entire time he had been in the man’s service.
Or was she merely intrigued by the claim?
“Dip your head back as far as you can,” he said, his tone no different from one he would use to order about a lowly servant.
Alice slowly turned away from him before scrunching her body tighter against her bent knees. Moving forward a bit so there was enough space behind her to drop her hair below the water, Alice realized almost immediately she wouldn’t be able to keep her arms crossed over her chest. She would have to hang onto the tub’s sides or risk falling completely into the water.
Well, given most of the bubbles were gone, he had probably already seen most of her through the mostly clear water. She gripped the tub’s edges and slowly lowered her head, arching her neck back until only her face remained above the water’s edge. For that moment when her head was nearly submerged, she was well aware of two things.
Make that three.
Both of her breasts were entirely out of the water, and Alonyius Banks glanced in their direction. Not just glanced at them, though. He stared at them. Ogled them, as if he had never seen a pair of naked breasts before in his entire life.
Alice supposed she could have feigned a bit of annoyance. Or put voice to a request that he look away, or at least pretend he wasn’t leering at her.
But she found she couldn’t.
She wasn’t exactly a well-endowed woman, after all. While most women of her age could boast of breasts the size of small apples or peaches, she could not. It took an extra tug of her corset just to gain a hint of a décolletage, and that at the expense of being able to breathe.
Another thought struck her just then.
Perhaps the valet had never seen breasts as flat or as small as hers. Perhaps he was appalled at her lack of the feminine charms so many seemed to covet. Perhaps he...
Thoughts of what Banks might be thinking flew from her head when one of his hands reached beneath her head and lifted it from the water. He didn’t let go, though, as he used the other to draw the ball of soap over her hair.
“You can relax. I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice sounding a bit strangled.
Her eyes widened as she watched the upside down version of him from her vantage. His attention was completely on her hair as his free hand worked the soap into her hair, his fingers gently massaging the bit of lather into her scalp.
Two things were suddenly evident.
Make that three.
Up close, Alonyius Banks was a very handsome man. Even upside down.
Sky blue eyes were rather dark by the light of a fire. Sapphire, almost.
Having one’s hair washed by the hands of a man was an entirely new experience. A rather erotic experience.
Could he be compelled to do it every week? she wondered. How much might he charge for the service? A rather naughty thought as to how she might compensate him had her suddenly blushing.
Suppressing the urge to gasp at what she had just imagined, Alice was about to make an attempt at conversation when the hand holding her head suddenly dropped back into the water. She managed to close her eyes and inhale sharply, thinking he would dunk her entire head beneath the water. But the level of water never reached beyond the sides of her face as his fingers speared her hair and worked their way through the soapy strands. After a moment, he switched hands, using the fingers of the other to separate and slide through her suds-slick hair until the soap had mostly dissipated.
“Close your eyes,” he murmured, just before he hefted one of the water pitchers and poured the last of the warm water over her hair.
Alice would have sighed her contentment, but for the water that sluiced from her hair and down the front of her face. When she finished wiping the water away from her eyes, she opened them to find Banks holding a bath linen while another was draped over one arm.
“I suppose this is your way of suggesting I remove myself from this tub,” Alice murmured, a bit of a pout forcing her lower lip beyond the upper.
“Actually, it’s far more than a suggestion, my lady. If you take a look at the ends of your fingers, you will find them...”
Alice let out a cry of shock. The pads of every finger displayed wrinkles! Never before had her fingers taken on the look of a piece of dried fruit! Her ladyship’s had, on occasion, but only when she insisted on staying in the bath in order to finish reading a chapter in one of her books.
Alice took the linen from the valet, careful to keep it out of the water as one of her wrinkled fingers twirled in the air. “Do be a gentleman and turn around,” she insisted when Banks made no move to do so. She couldn’t help but notice that the other bath linen was suddenly in front of his body, still hanging from his arm.
Almost as if he were hiding something.
Alice stilled her movements when she realized just what the valet was hiding.
At least he was entirely clothed.
She was sure her entire body had turned a pinkish red, and it wasn’t because of the hot water from the bath.
About to put voice to a protest—hadn’t he already seen just about all of Alice Simpkins?—the valet did her bidding and turned so he faced the bed.
The only bed in the room.
“I need to take my leave of you for a time,” Alonyius said suddenly, holding out the linen behind him so Alice could reach for it. Having wrapped her body in the first one, she went about securing her hair in the second one.
“But, why?” she asked, afraid she might have offended the man.
“I wish to give you some time for your evening toilette. I shan’t be long. Just enough time for a pint of ale with the proprietor,” he said, his attention still directed towards the bed. “To settle the bill and be sure we may keep the rooms should we be unable to leave on the morrow. Lock the door behind me, and do not open it for anyone but me. Do you understand?”
Confused by the change in the valet’s manner, Alice finally said, “I understand. I shan’t take long, though, I promise.” She noted his quick nod and the manner in which he left the room.
And what he left behind.
The man’s topcoat was draped over the back of the chair. Of course, he had taken it off to wash her hair. He had even rolled up his shirt sleeves—and left the room with them rolled up! Had she ever seen the valet without his top coat? She couldn’t remember ever having done so.
A bit dismayed by his sudden change in behavior, Alice quickly toweled off the remaining water droplets from her skin. Shivering from the sudden chill in the room, she quickly pulled on her night rail before trying to dry her hair with the linen.
The thought of how attractive—or not—she was to Alonyius Banks prompted her next move.
Pulling her valise from beneath the bedstead, she located a comb and found the small pair of embroidery scissors in her sewing kit. Moving to the shaving mirror above the room’s only pitcher and bowl, she took a deep breath and went to work. Long strands of dark hair drifted into the shaving bowl. Soon, shorter ones joined the longer strands as she evened out the long bangs left in front. When she was satisfied, she stepped back to regard her image in the looking glass, a grin forming when she decided she liked what she saw.
Returning the utensils to her valise, she dared a glance toward the door. The memory of Banks entering while she was still in the copper tub had a shiver racing through her body. Although she had felt embarrassment from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, she was quite sure she saw his eyes darken as he stared down at her. He didn’t even turn around, or beg forgiveness, or behave as if his presence was the least bit scandalous. He merely balanced the linens he carried in one hand as he stood watching her.
And so she hadn’t reacted. Oh, she had made sure her breasts were beneath the top of the water but her bare knees had breached the water’s surface. She straightened her legs enough so t
hey settled just below the surface.
I rather imagine the water has cooled a bit too much for my liking, he had stated as he regarded her. The fact that the tub was also near the fire had her thinking the water was suddenly boiling hot.
Not at all. The bricks beneath are rather warm, she had replied with a nod. She had almost—almost—asked if he wished to join her, but she knew there really wasn’t enough room in the tub for the both of them. Even if they sat at the same end, her body in front of his, she rather doubted there would be enough room.
Now, she would never know for sure.
The thought that the weather wouldn’t clear and that they might be stuck at The Black Swan another night had her breasts swelling, the space between her thighs throbbing in anticipation. Banks wouldn’t have to say a word. She would probably be the one to propose they use the time to frolic on the entirely-too-small bed.
Alice rolled her eyes, almost unable to believe what she was imagining for her and the valet. She felt positively wanton.
She had no idea if the valet’s arrangements for the room were truly as he described, but she had agreed because... well, what else could she do? She supposed if she had put voice to a protest, Banks might have moved to the inn’s parlor or practiced a bit of chivalry and attempted to share the other, smaller room with Haversham and Higgins. He could have put me in that room, she thought, a bit of a thrill passing through her when she remembered what he had said.
It’s hardly appropriate for a woman, Miss Simpkins, he had said, as if it was the room used for tumbles with the tavern maids.
Perhaps it was.
Besides, I would fear for your safety. You may take the bed, and I shall sleep in the chair.
You’ll do no such thing, she had replied in a hoarse whisper. That was before she had seen the size of the bed.
Or rather, its lack of size.
The two of them would barely fit side-by-side! And the thought of that arrangement had her entire body feeling far warmer than it should given how chilly the room was getting now that the fire was dying. At least there were some lumps of coal in a bin. She added a few to the fire, wiped off the coal dust from her hands, and folded the used linens.
Settling into the bed, Alice dared a glance at the door and wondered how long it would be before the valet joined her.
Chapter 10
The Servants are Missing
Later that evening
“Where do you suppose they are?” Adele wondered for at least the tenth time since she and the earl had arrived at Torrington Park. Although Davids, their driver, admitted to a bit of trouble in negotiating the snow-covered road, he had the coach-and-four arriving in the late afternoon. The servants’ coach—the coach that held their valet and maid as well as their trunks—was to leave a bit later, if only because one of Adele’s trunks still hadn’t been loaded by the porter when they departed The George.
Glancing out the same window Adele stood in front of, Milton allowed a sigh. “I told Haversham to get to the nearest coaching inn if he had the least bit of trouble. His coach is far heavier than the one we rode in,” he reminded her.
“And if they got stuck?” Adele’s voice was filled with worry.
“Now, now. There’s no need to fash yourself. They won’t get stuck, and even if they do... ” The earl paused, not having given that possibility a thought. There was that fairly deep snow drift just outside of Darlington. “My valet is a clever man, and Haversham has been a driver for me for years. He knows the way, as does Higgins, for that matter. Banks knows all the coaching inns. Higgins is a crack shot, so I rather doubt a highwayman will give them trouble. They’re fine, my sweeting.”
He hoped his voice sounded more sure than he was. Truth be told, he was a bit more worried than he had been before Adele put voice to her concern. Perhaps he shouldn’t have ordered Haversham to see to it they spent an extra day or two in Darlington. But just to make sure the valet had the time to visit his family, he had given Haversham a sovereign and told him to be sure they stayed in the town at least two nights.
Besides, the extra days would allow a few more horses and lighter coaches to pack down the snow. The mail coach from Edinburgh would also help establish a track they could follow. Until then, it would be nearly impossible to get a heavier coach through.
In the meantime, he and Adele would manage without the servants. He knew he could.
He merely had to convince his countess she could, too.
Chapter 11
A Visit to the Taproom
Meanwhile, back at The Black Swan
Alonyius Banks closed the door to his and Simpkins’ room and leaned against it, taking a deep breath and then wishing he hadn’t as the odor of stale cheroot smoke and ale filled his nostrils. He couldn’t go back into the room, though. Not yet. Not when his cock was still throbbing, and the hot blood of arousal coursed through his veins.
Although he had thought to simply share the room with Simpkins and maybe enjoy a tumble or two, he hadn’t expected to like the woman so much. Her character was so different from how she behaved back at Worthington House! She was nothing like the lady’s maid everyone complained about because she complained too much. Why, even his interrupting her bath hadn’t brought out a peep of protest from the woman!
But that wasn’t the worst of it. She wasn’t at all what he expected beneath her livery. She was a lithe creature with beautiful knees and silken hair and breasts he’d give anything to suckle. Just the thought of her budded nipples as they surfaced from beneath the bath water had his manhood straining against the placket of his breeches.
Banks rolled his eyes, realizing he was only making the situation worse by replaying the events of the past half-hour in his mind’s eye. Better he go downstairs to the public room. Or better yet, to the taproom. Spend time with the other bawdy men trapped in Darlington by the snowy conditions. Down a pint or two and see if he couldn’t forget what he had seen. See if his cock could forget what he had seen.
Pushing away from the door, he made his way down the short hall to the stairs, the din from below increasing in volume as he negotiated the tight stairwell. When he reached the bottom, he found the public room almost empty, but the taproom was filled to bursting with local laborers and intrepid travelers.
A half-filled pint in one beefy hand, Haversham waved him over to where he sat at a trestle. Two bored tavern maids flanked him, although their expressions brightened at the sight of the valet. “Kicked you out, did she?” the driver asked before taking a swig of the bitter ale.
Frowning at the odd comment, Banks took a moment to realize the driver was referring to Simpkins. “Is that what happened to you?” he countered, remembering the groom’s comment about finding a whore to help warm his bed. There was no sign of Higgins in the taproom. From the way one of the tavern maids had hooked an arm into Haversham’s, Alonyius thought she might be joining the driver in his room once Higgins was done with what was probably going to be a quick tumble.
Haversham angled his head. “Merely waiting my turn. Cold nights mean there’s not enough tail to go ’round, if you catch my meaning.”
The two tavern maids both gave expressions of disbelief and then broke out into a fit of giggles.
Not having thought about engaging a lady of the evening—he hadn’t been in the company of a prostitute since before he was employed as a valet—Banks was once again reminded of why he had left his room. He wondered how many prostitutes might ply their trade at the coaching inn, and then, upon studying the collection of unwashed bodies in the crowded taproom, he quickly dismissed the idea of hiring a lady of the evening for a quick tumble.
Acquiring a venereal disease was the very last thing he planned to do on this trip.
Besides, there was a rather delectable creature up in his room this very moment. And she was newly bathed and smelled of citrus. His cock certainly remembered even if he was trying to forget. “Are all these men waiting for a bit of tail?” Banks asked in a lowered voice,
his query directed to the driver alone.
Haversham shrugged, his nearly empty glass about to spill what little was left in it. “Dunno. Think they was just tired of being cooped up in their cottages, what with this snow and all,” he replied. “One of ’em claims we won’t get out until day after ’morrow. Which works perfect seein’ as how the guv’nor told me to spend a night or two here,” he added, an arched brow suggesting he knew something Banks didn’t.
Or that he was sure Banks knew the plan, too.
Banks straightened. He knew perfectly well what the earl had in mind, even if he hadn’t agreed with the idea. Apparently he had ensured the servants’ coach would be stuck in Darlington by paying the driver to see to the delay.
Damn him.
“I believe he simply wishes to spend some time with his countess. Without many servants about,” Alonyius suggested with a shrug, wondering what the driver knew.
Haversham gave a nod. “In the meantime, they got a crew working to clear that big drift that stopped us so as to make way for the next mail coach that comes down from Edinburgh. We’ll probably head out the day after ’morrow.”
The day after tomorrow?
Well, this didn’t sound good. Even in good weather, they were still several hours from Torrington Park.
Alonyius Banks frowned as he realized two things.
Make that three.
He didn’t have enough reading material to keep him occupied for another whole day, so spending time in the inn’s parlor wasn’t the least bit appealing.
The snow and cold meant venturing outside, perhaps to visit some shops or take a meal at a public house, wasn’t very appealing either. There was that other place he really should visit, though. Apparently he would have an entire day to so.
There was a rather delectable creature up in his room. A woman that would be there all day tomorrow unless she chose to venture out in the cold and snow. A woman he might prevail upon to stay in bed with him if only so they could keep each other warm in more ways than one.
The Christmas of a Countess Page 9