Page 5 of A Cinderella to Redeem the Earl
‘Is the cook aware of the sort of house she’s come to?’ Pip asked.
‘She has no reason to know anything apart from that she cooks only for the staff.’
‘But servants talk,mon ami. Everyone working here is known to us. Is loyal to us. This cook is a whole different story. Will you be able to keep her from going to the authorities?’
He shrugged. ‘She needs money or she would not have taken the lure. Besides, there is nothing illegal about what we are doing.’ Although they walked a very fine line and it would not take much to tip them over on to the wrong side of the law.
Pip sipped his brandy. ‘Let us hope you are correct. I look forward to meeting this cook of yours.’
A spark of something hot rose in Damien’s chest. Anger? Since when did he care about Pip’s legendary romantic adventures? Nonsense. He merely didn’t want Pip causing his plan to go awry. ‘This is one female I insist you stay away from.’
A charming smile broke out on his friend’s face. ‘She is so lovely, then?’
‘Ugly or fair, it is all the same to me. I don’t want you getting in the way of our plans.’ He caught the twinkle in his friend’s eye and relaxed. ‘Stop roasting me, I will deal with her.’
Pip tossed back his drink. ‘It shall be as you request. I bid you goodnight. Tomorrow will be a busy day.’
Tomorrow would be a good day. Everything was coming together exactly the way he had planned.
Pamela dried her hands on a cloth and inspected the fruits of the labour she had started at six that morning. The little kitchen—her domain—sparkled. The wooden table top shone, as did the floor, the copper pots hanging from the wall rack gleamed and the stove had been scrubbed inside and out.
Four hours of hard work and well worth it.
To her delight, the pantry was exceedingly well stocked with everything she would need for at least two weeks. Now she began to explore the rest of her surroundings. Since the house was built into a small rise, while she had come downstairs from the front door to reach the kitchens, at the back of the house, it was above ground. The kitchen windows looked out over a herb and vegetable garden, long neglected.
Following the corridor, she had walked down the previous evening, she passed the servants’ hall where she had laid out breakfast for three as ordered and opened the back door to the outside. This was how one accessed the garden and a collection of buildings for storage, smoking meats and laundry. Which had her wondering who was responsible for washing the linens.
Another question to ask her employer when she saw him in...not very many minutes’ time.
Time to get ready for her appointment. At the thought, her heart gave an odd little skip. Not afraid, but a kind of eager anticipation. It really would not do. She must not let herself find him attractive. He was her employer. She peeked into the servants’ hall and was disappointed to see no signs that Dart or Monsieur Phillippe had availed themselves of the breakfast she had laid out.
She had wanted his reaction to the food. She wanted to make a good impression. But alas, apparently the exceedingly handsome, somewhat brooding Earl of Dart clearly was not an early riser.
The more she thought about him, the more she wondered at the strangeness of his abode. Opening his own door. Hiring his own servants. And the odd arrangement regarding meals for the servants and guests.
She had heard that some members of the nobility were eccentric and she had an uncomfortable feeling about this one. Well, as long as he left her in peace to do her work, she didn’t see why she would have a problem with his foibles.
Returned to her kitchen, she took a deep steadying breath, hung up her apron and glanced at her reflection in the bottom of a pot.
She smoothed a stray lock of hair back into her bun. Neat as a pin, like her kitchen. Satisfied, she climbed the stairs and pushed open the baize door into the main entrance hall.
Where was Dart’s study?
She walked along the corridor to the right and peeked into the first room she came to. She could not believe her eyes. The floorboards were rotted and haphazardly patched, a broken chair lay on its side and odd bits of wood covered many of the window panes. If she wasn’t mistaken, those were mice droppings all over the floor.
She tried the next room and found it worse.
Perhaps the other wing... She retraced her steps back to the entrance hall.
‘Are you looking for something?’
Her heart gave a startled thump.
She spun around to see a young fair-haired man strolling down the grand staircase. An Adonis of a young man, no less.
She took a quick breath. ‘Yes. I am seeking my employer. Lord Dart.’
The young man tilted his head and let his gaze roam from her head to her heels.
