Page 26 of A Rake's Redemption
How utterly ironic. Miranda had been upset over a girl who cleaned up after horses. Alex had probably bought her a new dress for tumbling her in one of the stalls. After all, an Irish peasant girl wouldn’t have any need for a silk negligee.
“I am surprised she is allowed in the house at all,” Miranda said, fingering the embroidered threads on her handkerchief. “Most grooms reside off the stables.”
“Not her. She has her own private room.”
Miranda narrowed her eyes. That did not sound good. Had Alex actually moved a mistress in to his own home? “That is interesting indeed. Does Inis have other duties?”
“Not house duties, but Fern suspects Inis might have some personal ones.” Leah snickered. “If you know what I mean.”
Miranda did. And she didn’t like it. “Are you saying this…Inis…is Lord Ashley’s mistress?”
“Fern thinks so.” Leah shrugged. “Why else would Lord Ashley buy her a whole wardrobe?”
Anger flashed through Miranda, but she managed—barely—not to shred the small square of linen. “What do you mean a whole wardrobe?”
“There were almost twenty boxes delivered yesterday. Fern lost count.”
Red-hot anger turned to white rage. Somehow, she managed to control it. “Twenty boxes?”
“Thereabouts,” Leah answered. “Like I said, Fern lost count.”
Miranda forced herself to take a deep breath. “Whatever was in so many boxes?”
“Fern didn’t see, but Elsie said there was everything from a fine winter coat to dresses and shoes and underthings.”
Underthings. Did Alex buy that little slut a silk negligee after all? But never mind that. A whole wardrobe.A whole wardrobe.From one of the most prestigious modiste shops in London. No man did that for a woman unless she was his mistress.
“I see. You may go now,” Miranda said and rose to get the small bag of coins to give to Leah. “You’ve been very helpful.”
Leah took the bag and gave Miranda a big smile. “I’m happy to do whatever you need me to do.”
“Thank you.” Miranda sank down in the chair after Leah left. She needed time to think. This situation would never do. The Irish peasant was getting in the way of her plans.
Chapter Nine
Inis eyed the silver tea service set on the low table in the parlor Sunday afternoon and glanced at Alex sitting across from her in one of the two sturdy-looking chairs that actually looked adequate enough to hold a man. Most of the furniture in the room was Hepplewhite with mahogany shield-shaped straight chair backs and satin-brocade seats. The chairs had slender, tapering legs that didn’t look strong enough to support much weight even though the wide spade feet were supposed to counteract that. Alex had, instead, chosen a wing chair with comfortably padded back, seat, and armrests that sat solidly on four short, squat legs. Inis wished she could have taken the matching chair rather than be sitting on a settee with Caroline.
“Shall we begin the lesson on how to pour tea?” Caroline asked.
“I do nae see how it so hard. The pitcher has a handle,” Inis replied.
“The correct term is teapot, not pitcher. When you pick it up, keep the spout low so the tea does not splash into the saucer.” Caroline lifted the pot to demonstrate. “Like this.”
“Ye only filled the cup halfway,” Inis said when she finished.
Caroline nodded. “That is the proper amount for a cup.”
“’Tis barely more than a swallow or two,” Inis said. “How is a person supposed to quench her thirst from that?”
“We leave room for cream and sugar.” Caroline gestured to the smaller serving pieces. “The termpitcherdoes apply to the container that holds the cream.”
Inis gave it a doubtful glance, rather enjoying playing ignorant of such things. “’Tis confusing.”
“You will get the hang of it,” Caroline said. “Go ahead and pour a cup for me.”
Inis frowned. “Did ye nae just pour a cup for yourself?”
“That was to show you how.” Caroline smiled and turned the handle of the teapot toward Inis. “And remember to ask if I want cream or sugar.”
