Page 3 of A Cinderella to Redeem the Earl
‘I do a great deal of entertaining,’ he said in more moderate tones as if he regretted his outburst. ‘When my guests are here, a chef comes from London to prepare their food. Your job is to feed the servants who wait upon my guests, as well as send food out to their coachmen and grooms in the stable block.’ He paused. ‘And, upon occasion, feed me and Monsieur Phillippe, when I am here and not entertaining. Any more questions?’
‘Yes.’
His frowned deepened.
‘Where are my quarters? I have had a long journey and I need to rest.’ She glanced with distaste at the kitchen. ‘I will start work on this mess first thing in the morning.’
His unwilling chuckle lightened the atmosphere, though she had no clue why he thought what she had said was humorous. ‘Your quarters are this way.’
He led her further along the narrow corridor through an antechamber and into the room beyond. The lamp revealed a chamber that boasted a narrow bed against one wall and a table with two chairs in the corner.
He lit several candles in strategically placed holders. ‘This chamber backs on to the kitchen hearth. It is cosy in the winter and too hot in the summer, but there are lots of windows to open.’
There were indeed. A set of French doors led to somewhere outdoors. He pulled a set of heavy curtains over the glass. ‘Better to keep these closed at this time of year.’
He glanced down at her valise. ‘I will leave you to settle in.’ He headed for the door.
‘Wait.’
He turned back with a glare. He really did not like to be questioned. ‘What is it now?’
‘I have an offer of employment from the agency detailing salary and terms that requires your signature.’
‘I will meet you in my office tomorrow, at ten, to finalise the details.’ He sounded completely uninterested, but given that the offer was for what she considered an exorbitant salary, she was determined to have the contract signed and sealed.
‘Very well. I will attend you at ten. Also, how many people require breakfast tomorrow morning, where and at what time?’
He huffed a sigh. ‘Two. Me, Monsieur Phillippe, in addition to yourself. Something simple laid out in the servants’ hall will do. By tomorrow afternoon there will be fifteen additional staff. They will require dinner at six, then will return to London before morning. They return again on Friday. They will require meals two evenings each week. I hope that is clear?’
Only two evenings each week? All that money for so little work? What was she to do the rest of the time?
Her earlier misgivings returned in a rush.
Damian frowned as he strode back to his study.MrsLamb, as she called herself, had not been quite as anticipated. When he had hatched his plans to take revenge on her and her family, he had not expected to discover her hiring herself out as a cook. He had also expected her to be delicate, less confident and easily influenced.
Until recently, his only experience with gently born ladies had been his mother, who had suffered greatly at their reduced circumstances. Her brave attempts to pitch in had been endearing, but more of a hindrance than a help. Her idea of adding to the family coffers had been to take in mending, but then had required his father to hire a woman to provide assistance. An expenditure they could little afford.
His father, who did his best to protect his wife, had not had the heart to tell her she was costing him money. Her sensibilities had been very delicate.
At first meeting, it seemed that Mrs Lamb was made of sterner stuff, both resilient and competent, which rather contradicted the tepid reference he’d received from the chef at her last place of employment. The reference had accorded with his expectation of a spoiled little miss, who, not getting her way over something ridiculous, had run off to be a cook, to blackmail her family into giving in.
But time would tell which of these was true.
He certainly had not expected to find her quite so lovely, or feel a tug of attraction. Until now, he had found most of theton’s ladies not to his taste, being far too empty-headed and ingratiating.
Fortunate indeed. Had he found the spoiled miss repulsive, it might have made undertaking her ruin more difficult. Rubbish. Nothing would stand in his way. He controlled his future, whether it be divesting a young man of a fortune by the turn of a card, or tempting a woman to let down her guard. Every move he made was thought out and based on full knowledge of the risks.
The hard scrabble of the many years of gaining a fortune in the mean streets of Marseilles had taught him to identify what he wanted and focus his all on getting it.
He’d learned from the best, first as a lad, running errands for one of Marseilles’s notorious criminals, and later setting up his own illegal gaming hell, which attracted a better class of gambler, where he made sure the gaming was honest and the premises discreet enough to attract the wealthiest of customers.
So it would be with his plans for Mrs Lamb. Pamela. Such a soft name for such a sharp-edged female. Well, pretty soon he’d blunt her blade and have her eating out of his hand, when and how he decided.
It was inevitable.
A twinge of guilt took him by surprise.
Guilt? Or pity?
