Chester would be bound the position she referred to was of a matrimonial nature and was no longer available.
“As it turned out, he wasn’t able to help.” Adept as she was at masking her feelings, her wounded eyes betrayed her.
Hmm. So, the Godly Gallant had fallen from grace.
“Do you want to know what I think, Eden, my sweet?”
“No. I do not.”
Yes, distinct peevishness in her gimlet glance.
Leaning one elbow on his forearm, he rested his chin on his knuckles. “I think your chivalrous cleric threw you over. Vicar Valiant didn’t possess the courage to stand up for the woman he proclaimed to love. I would, you know. The cost and stigma be damned.”
“How very noble of you, considering you’re the reason I’m disgraced.” She sighed then and closed her eyes for a brief moment. “That was unfair, and you are right. He withdrew his offer. I cannot say I am surprised or that I blame him.”
Chester wouldn’t deny he was glad for it, though he ached for her humiliation.
“You would’ve married him even though you don’t love him?”
She sank farther into the pillows, her expression defensive.
“Women have made greater sacrifices out of desperation.”
Or love.
“Have you considered my offer to become my secretary?”
“I have, and I must decline. I appreciate your confidence in me, and that you are willing to cock a snook at decorum. But I confess, I am not so daring.” There was that adorable wry smile. “I shall accept the housekeeper position if that is agreeable to you. Mattie says she’d rather remain Mama’s companion. They’ve become fast friends. I realize I have no experience overseeing a household of this size, but I’m confident I can learn to do so. Toward that end, and because I’m burdening you with additional people and animals, I’ll accept half wages.”
To go from managing her own small home, the daughter of a man of means, to the role of a servant weighed heavily on her. He could see it in the merest downturn of her mouth and the fingers of her other hand clutching the coverlet.
Her pride wouldn’t permit her to stay on as a guest either, though.
Even becoming Perygrim’s housekeeper pushed the mark.
“All right. The position is yours. I’ll inform my father. We can discuss wages later. Tomorrow, after we collect whatever it is you must have from Briar Knoll, I’ll give you a tour of the house and we’ll decide on appropriate compensation.”
“I don’t wish to overstep, but perhaps there are rooms we might use in the servant’s quarters? Or . . .” She inhaled and ran the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip as if bolstering her courage. “Might Mama and Mattie live at the Lake Cottage? I would reside here, naturally. I don’t wish to inconvenience his grace any more than we already have.”
A nice way of saying she worried Father would bully her mother.
Such trust and faith shone in her eyes. Such cautious hope. He’d done nothing to earn it, but he’d cut off his own foot with embroidery scissors before betraying it.
He might’ve only known Eden Haverden for a few days, but his soul soared to think she’d be here, at Perygrim. Every day.
He’d see her every day.
Speak to her every day.
Giddiness bubbled behind his ribs.
Too soon to declare himself.
Did Eglantina Eden Haverden believe in love at first sight?
For he did now.
Chester released her hand as he contemplated her suggestion. He ran his fingers along his jaw. “I shall consider it. Why don’t we see what happens for, shall we say, a fortnight?” He winked, and after a conspiratorial peek into the corridor, lowered his voice. “Father’s been taking tea with her.”
Her mouth parted in astonishment, and she blinked at him, confused. “Together? And he hasn’t been cross? She didn’t say a word to me about it.”
“I’m as astounded as you are, but I’d like to think it bodes well.” Unable to resist a minute longer, he picked up one of her locks. It curled around his fingers, clinging to them like a vine taking possession of a wall or a tree.
“My lord . . .”
“Eden . . .”
He jerked his fingers away. “Pardon. Please continue.”
She took another deep breath, an adorable blush pinkening her cheeks.
“I wasn’t spying on you the other night at the lake.”
“No? More’s the pity. I quite hoped you were. I’d have been thoroughly compromised, and there’s only one solution for that.”
Too soon to broach that subject.
“Chester.” She swatted his arm, eyeing him with puckish regard. “Be serious. This is awkward enough. I want to apologize for intruding.”
She’d used his given name. A chorus of hallelujahs hummed through his blood.
“No need for you to feel uncomfortable.” He never wanted her to feel uneasy around him. He lifted a shoulder. “You couldn’t have known I’d go for a swim. I’d just returned from London on a business matter with a bank I’ve invested in. There and back in two days, and I was desperate for a cool plunge.”
“You were in London?”
Surprise, or maybe it was relief, skewed her winged brows together.
He nodded. “I was. I sent you a note.”
Her silence and unwavering stare said what she did not.
Blister and blast it to Hades.
“You didn’t receive it.”
Not a question.
Docker and Jervis had already been dismissed. Which meant the footman he’d entrusted with the missive was too afraid of Father dismissing him to comply with Chester’s request. Time to have a candid discussion with all the staff. Anyone who couldn’t pledge loyalty to him would have to go. He’d not tolerate any more shenanigans.
He touched her cheek, grazing his fingers along the satiny skin, then cradled her jaw. She had such fine bones. Such a tempting mouth, which softened under his perusal.
With welcome?
“Did you think I’d reneged on my offer?”
She searched his eyes.
“Yes.”
No excuses or accusation. Just the openness she’d always demonstrated with him.
“I’m sorry, sweet. Truly I am. I would’ve spared you the fretting. I’m not such a scapegrace that I’d give you false hope.”
He leaned nearer, his entire focus trained on the delicate flare of her lips.
Her lashes fluttered closed.
A tender wisp of a touch at first.
Perfect and right and not enough.
She arched upward as he slid his hand behind her head, urging her closer.
Her lips parted at his gentle urging, and she released a ragged sigh.
Like a tippler desperate for his spirits, he eagerly tasted her honeyed mouth and explored the velvety softness.
Mr. Wiggles gave a worried whine, plummeting Chester back to earth.
Eden lifted an unsteady hand, and eyes wide and reproachful, touched her lips.
“My lord, I am your servant. Nothing else. If you ever kiss me again, I’ll leave this house within the hour.”
A Rose for a Rogue
Collette Cameron
“What is so important that you have to set out yourself at eight o’clock in the morning?”
Lord Sterling’s question stirred Eden from her reverie. She’d been reliving that delicious kiss of yesterday afternoon. Even now, she could feel his firm yet soft mouth on hers. She’d wanted more. Yearned to pull him down beside her and explore the contours of his face and well-muscled body.
More than carnal hunger swept her along on that river of desire. Chester had tunneled his way into her heart. Had captured it, good and well. That troubled her more than her wanton behavior.
Thank God Mr. Wiggles had interrupted.
Reality, cold and stark, had lanced her to the core, reviving a modicum of common sense.
She’d been on the verge of compromising herse
lf with a man she scarcely knew.
Which made her wicked and fast.
Her behavior would shame Mama’s. Dulcina had been unwilling, had been despoiled by Walter Andrews.
Eden, on the other hand, without so much as a finger lifted in resistance or a single objection, had melted into his arms, succumbing to the practiced rogue’s skillful kisses. Worse, she well knew the consequences. Had she not lived three and twenty years, scorned and ridiculed because of her birth?
When had she become an utter nitwit?
Since meeting Manchester, Marquis of Sterling, future Duke of DeCourcy.
She flicked her fan open and waved it. The past two days had been unseasonably warm, which was why she wore a simple, short-sleeved morning gown, and her shawl lay unused on the seat beside her. But the rush of heat overwhelming her had nothing to do with the sun outside.
“Eden?”
“I really think you ought to address me more formally, since I am in your employ now.”
She leaned against the carriage’s plush burgundy squab and considered appropriate alternatives, all the while fluttering the fan. The conveyance fairly floated along compared to her dogcart. She’d better be careful, or she’d become accustomed to this luxury.
“What do you suggest?” he asked.
He didn’t seem the least put off by her firm retort.
“Not Miss Haverden. That’s how everyone knows Mama. Perhaps Mistress Eden or Mistress Haverden?”
“Mistress?” His voice went deep and velvety. Wholly mesmerizing. Wonderfully wicked. “An interesting notion.”
The avid potency in his gaze—very much jungle green and slightly primeval as he lazily contemplated her—made her quiver to her toes.
A most stimulating and not at all objectionable quaking either.
Her gaze flew to his mouth, quirked into a knowing smile. Then to his eyes, brimming with the thoughtful amusement she’d come to know.
Good God. He didn’t think . . .?
He ought to be slapped for his impertinence.
She folded her arms across her chest, lest he see her unsolicited reaction.
Her mind and delicate sensibilities might object to his insinuation, but her young, healthy body most certainly did not.
As if he could read her tumbling thoughts, those probing eyes sank to her folded arms, and he chuckled whilst crossing his long legs.
“Eden, my sweet. All housekeepers are addressed as Missus. Even when they are unmarried. The staff will address you as Mrs. Haverden, as will Father. I promise to do so if anyone else is around.”
“You will do so all the time, because you might be overheard. A man of your integrity would never risk bringing censure upon me by doing otherwise. That means no more calling me sweet and most assuredly no more kisses.”
She had him there and couldn’t contain the jubilant twitch of her lips.
“Hmm, we shall see.”
“I mean it, my lord. I must insist.”
“Do you know your eyes turn almost indigo when you are peeved?”
“Nonsense.” What rubbish.
“If you say so.”
He glanced out the window and tensed. Alarm tightened his features. Grabbing the door, he leaned forward, swearing beneath his breath. He banged on the roof and shouted, “Simmons. To Briar Knoll. As fast as the team can go.”
The carriage lurched forward, the powerful team of four racing over the track, and she nearly toppled from the seat.
“What’s wrong?” Dread spinning her stomach, she scooted to the edge of the seat.
A dismayed cry ripped from her throat.
“No! No!”
Flames frolicked atop the cottage’s peaked roof as Simon and what looked to be Dockery stood by. Tethered in the orchard, a pair of horses, heads raised and tails swishing nervously, shifted as they too watched the spreading fire.
Time crept along, each second stretching on and on before the carriage careened to a stop. Eden didn’t wait for Chester to open the door or for the driver to lower the steps. She jumped to the ground, despair clogging her throat as she dashed to her brother.
She grabbed his arm, forcing him to face her.
“Simon. What have you done? We had a day left. Why would you do this?”
His glance held a modicum of pity. “You’d obviously vacated already. I told you’d I’d burn anything left.”
“But I’ve been ill, and I didn’t have a chance to make sure everything of importance was taken.”
Her whole life, every memory, every celebration and milestone had occurred in the quaint cottage. He’d callously torched the only home she’d ever known. It was like losing a dear friend.
She stumbled forward a few steps, shaking her head. “Why burn the cottage? You could’ve let it to someone else.”
Especially since she suspected he was short on funds
He cupped his nape. “I don’t want the expense of repairing it, nor do I want to have to pay the taxes on the crumbling heap.”
Or didn’t want to risk she and Mama finding a means to return?
Lord Sterling came up beside her, and grasping her elbow, gently urged her away.
“There’s naught we can do now, Eden. Come. Move away. It’s not safe.” The urgency in his gentle voice penetrated her shock, and as if drugged, she managed a slow nod.
“So, it’s Eden now is it?” Simon’s smirk implied all that he didn’t say. “Dockery mentioned he’d seen you at Perygrim.”
“Then he was trespassing, because I dismissed the cur for theft.” Vehemence replaced the gentleness in Chester’s voice.
Dockery quelled under the scorching glare Chester leveled him.
She gathered from his rapt regard, the churl suddenly found the contorting shadows on the ground fascinating.
Chester whirled to the driver. “Go to Perygrim for help.”
“Yes, sir.” In a flash, Simmons vaulted into the driver’s seat and set the team charging to the great house.
Not that it would do any good.
A tremulous child’s whimper carried to her above the fire’s roar.
“Auntie Egg?”
Premonition screeching a warning, she spun toward Prentice. Eyes huge and terror filled, he cowered by the empty chicken run.
“Prentice. What are you doing here?” Simon demanded from behind her. “I expressly forbade you to ever come here again.”
“Prentice?” She ran to him.
Kneeling before her nephew, she gripped his small shoulders.
“Where’s your brother? Tell me, Prentice. Where is Timothy?”
Lower lip trembling, he pointed to the cottage, the roof now completely engulfed in flames. “He went into the cottage. He said he wanted something to remember you by. Father said you were going away and we’d never, ever, ever see you again, Auntie Egg.”
Oh no. Oh no!
Prentice collapsed against her, inconsolable.
Cradling his small, shuddering body fast against her, Eden on her knees, shifted to face Chester. Terror beat a brutal path from her heart to her lungs.
“Dear God. Timothy is inside the cottage.”
“No. He cannot be.” Simon stiffened and blanched.
The fire’s unrelenting rage commanded her attention.
Timothy was in there.
“Oh God. He’s inside that,” she cried.
Simon whirled and seized Dockery by his collar, shaking him like a wild dog intent on breaking its prey’s neck. “I told you to make sure no one was inside, you bloody imbecile. So help me, if anything happens to my heir, you’ll regret ever approaching me for a position.”
“I walked through all the rooms.” Dockery yanked himself free, his lack of remorse stark and unforgiveable. “If the disobedient brat was hiding, it’s no fault of mine.”
With an infuriated growl, Simon planted him a facer.
Dockery folded to the ground in an unconscious heap.
Chester had already removed his jacket. He draped it over his head
like a protective mantel.
Simon immediately did the same.
“I’ll take the back entrance. You go in the front,” Chester told Simon. “Stay as low as you can, and don’t inhale the smoke. We’ve but minutes before the roof goes.”
Eden closed her eyes as both men disappeared inside the inferno.
“God, please protect them. Let them find Timothy safe.”
If she’d thought time inched by as they sprinted to the cottage, it now ceased to move at all. Every breath she took, every sob rattling Prentice’s small body, every angry crackle and snap of the fire drew out endlessly.
Dockery roused and struggled to his feet. A vile sneer curled his lip as he brushed the back of his hand against his bloody nose.
Eden barely spared him a glance. She spoke into Prentice’s hair. “Come on, Simon and Chester. Find Timothy. Hurry. You have to hurry.”
Dockery mounted his horse, calling evilly as he galloped away, “I hope they all burn, the snobbish arses.”
Minutes passed—Three? Five? More?
Bent over, wheezing and coughing, his hands clasping his chest, Simon staggered from the front entrance. He collapsed to his knees several feet away and covered his face with his hands.
“I couldn’t find him.” Rocking back and forth, he moaned, the sound so anguished and animalistic, Eden’s flesh prickled. “I couldn’t find my son. Oh God. What have I done?”
“Father?” Prentice whimpered. “Is my brother going to die?”
He might already be dead.
Arms open wide, Simon silently beckoned his younger son.
Prentice ran to him and threw himself into his father’s arms. They clung to each other, weeping.
Tears burned behind her lids as Eden tortured her lower lip, her hands pressed to her belly.
Where was Chester? He should have come out by now.
“Chester,” she screamed, hugging herself. “Chester!”
She couldn’t lose him too. Not when she’d admitted what he meant to her.
He couldn’t remain inside much longer. The roof was going to cave in. No one could survive that.
Mind made up, she unfastened the frogs at her throat.
She had to try.
As she swung the cloak from her shoulders, Prentice cried out and pointed. “Look!”
Rogues to Lovers: Legend of the Blue Rose Page 53