Page 84 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

“Don’t mind my wife, John. It’s her way of saying she’s mad about me.”

John’s lips twitched, but like any good servant, he remained silent.

She straightened her skirts, brushing vigorously at them as if the mere act of holding her had wrinkled them. “I’m sure John is brighter than you are and sees the truth in the matter.”

He ignored her and took her hand. “Come, I want to show you around.”

The servants had not only aired out the cottage, they had fully prepared it for a newly wed couple, no doubt all under the instruction of his mother. Hyacinths, peonies, and yes, tulips—his mother’s favorite—brightened the rooms with splashes of color and filled each with the sweet scent of spring. Floorboards shined and crystal sparkled. Rugs were freshly beaten to remove offending dust.

In every room, Simon cast a quick glance to gauge Charlotte’s reaction, pleased with her nod of approval. “Disappointed? Perhaps you expected a hovel surrounded by pig styes?”

Her mouth dropped open.

“Oh, dear God. You did, didn’t you?” He shook his head, amused at catching her false assumptions.

“I admit to nothing.” Her lips tightened, but her eyes glinted with the truth.

Tugging her hand, he pulled her toward the stairs to show her the bedchambers, choosing the largest one first.

When he flung open the door, he kept his eyes on Charlotte’s face. Candlelight lit the cheerful room which reflected his grandmother’s outlook on life. Given Charlotte’s comments about the main house, he knew she would love it.

However, he wasn’t prepared for her reaction.

The tiniest gasp escaped her lips before she threw a hand to her mouth.

“What?” he asked, then turned his attention to the room. “Oh.”

Someone—presumably one of his sisters—had destroyed numerous flowers by plucking off the petals and depositing them on the bed. He strode to the bell pull by the bed and gave it a sound tug. “I promise you, I had nothing to do with this.”

She snorted a laugh. “Of course not. It’s too romantic.”

Puzzled, Simon blinked and gaped slack-jawed at her. “You . . .likeit?

John rushed in. “Sir?”

Simon waved a hand toward the bed. “Tell whoever did this?—”

“Tell them, ‘Thank you,’” Charlotte finished.

“Will there be anything else?” John’s gaze flicked between Simon and Charlotte.

Clearly not understanding that John had directed the question toward Simon, Charlotte took charge. “Please have a tub and hot water brought up for a bath.”

John cast a quizzical glance toward him. “A tub, sir? But?—”

“I’ll explain to Lady Charlotte. But do bring some hot water.”

John scurried off.

Hands on her—ahem, provocative—hips, Charlotte pounced on him. An adorable frown dented her brow. “Don’t tell me you don’t have a tub available for a proper bath?”

Rather than answer, he tugged her hand again and led her to the adjoining room. “Grandmother insisted on this addition. She adored her baths and believed in cleanliness.”

Charlotte’s gaze swept the rather large room. “I never expected this in a cottage.” Elevated on a platform, the tub’s outer shell was copper, but delicately painted flowers adorned the porcelain lining. Charlotte ran her fingertips along the rim. “It’s so beautiful.”

“And this.” Simon opened the door to the water closet. “Private as well.”

She continued to stare at the tub, her face pensive. “If such a convenience had been at Pendrake House, we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

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