Page 118 of His Duchess in Disguise
Or,a traitorous little part of her suggested,remembering the feel of his hands on her waist, I could become something more. Something perhaps a little shameful, but altogether wonderful.
A warmth spread through her, remembering his strength and the way he had looked at her for just a moment as if she was something valued and important. It was so wonderful to be appreciated, if only just for mending old books and riding horses.
Emma sighed, her eyes drifting closed as she leaned her head back against the wooden edge of the tub. It had been a very long and energetic day.
Her first hint that something was amiss came when Rags began growling. Emma’s eyes popped open, and she sat bolt upright under the edge of the bath sheet.
“Well, well, well, what have we here?” Matthew Blank murmured rhetorically. “If it ain’t a bathin’ beauty in a laundry tub.” He sauntered up to the edge of the tub. “What have you got on under that sheet, Miss Kathy? Or is that your real name? You don’t answer to it very well. I think maybe you are a girl out of Vauxhall Gardens, sneaking away from your Abbess.” He laid a hand on the edge of the sheet.
“Get out!” Emma hissed at him. “You’ll get us both sacked.”
“Or maybe,” Matthew said teasingly, “You are really a runaway heiress escaping a bad marriage.” He tugged teasingly at the bath sheet that covered the top of the tub. “I could make it so that your Earl won’t want you, little Miss Kathy. I’ve got something no Earl is likely to have, and I know how to pleasure a lady as he’s not like to ever know.”
“Leave me alone, Matthew Blank,” Emma said more loudly. “I want no part of anything you have, not now or ever.”
“I think I do have something you want, Miss Emma Hoskins,” Matthew taunted. “I think you want my silence. All you have to do is pet me a little, show me a nice time. Why don’t you come on down to the Leaning Stone with me and let me buy you a beer, and we can have a little fun where no one is likely to see.”
A frisson of terror ran through Emma. How could this scullion, this pot boy know her name? What should she do?Best to brazen it through, give him no sign that he is right.
Matthew tugged gently and teasingly at the bath sheet, leering at her with knowing lasciviousness. “Come on now, Miss Emma. You’ll love every minute with me.”
“My name is Kathy!” she screamed at him. “And you have no right to be in here! You aren’t even supposed to be in the manor at night.”
“I’ve just as much right as you,” Matthew snarled, taking a firm grip on the bathing sheet and wrenching at it.
Emma gripped the sheet, feeling about in the tub for something to use as a weapon. There! The heavy wooden bathing brush came to hand.
For a moment, she held fast to the bathing sheet screaming, “Get out! Get out! Get out!”
Rags set up a furious crescendo of barking, then set his tiny fangs in Matthew Blank’s calf, just above his boot, growling ferociously. Emma let go of the bathing sheet and rose out of the tub like an avenging Venus. She swung the bathing brush like a cricket bat, smacking Matthew just above the ear. He staggered back, then lunged for her, his eyes blazing with anger.
“What on earth is going on here?” demanded Mrs. Chambers, entering from the kitchen. She grasped Matthew by his collar and hauled him away from Emma, her arm strengthened by years of pounding bread, lifting pots, and keeping up the fires in the great hearths. Her grip on the scullion’s collar was aided by the stout homespun of his shirt and that he was already off-balance. The laces of the shirt caught him across the throat, effectively choking him.
Mrs. Noddicott followed close upon her heels, and taking in the situation at a glance, stepped back and gave a bell-pull in the kitchen three hearty tugs, which set all the bells in the butler’s drawing-room to ringing. The butler came flying down the stairs, followed by two footmen.
In a trice, they had Mr. Matthew Blank hauled out of the laundry room, while Mrs. Chambers wrapped a sodden Kathy/Emma in the now-soaked bath-sheet and held the sobbing girl in the embrace of one beefy arm.
Emma, who felt that “Kathy” would be inclined to strong hysterics after such an episode, needed little acting to emulate a frightened young maid, who could be in danger of being turned off. “He. . . he . . .” she hiccupped and sobbed into Mrs. Chambers’ motherly shoulder. “Will I be turned off?”
“There, there, now,” Mrs. Chambers soothed, while a footman coaxed Rags to let go of Matthew’s calf. Reluctantly, the little dog unclenched his jaws, but he growled and snapped at the scullion as the footman pulled him away. “It is perfectly plain,” the cook added, “that you were not willin’.”
“Sure, she was,” Matthew protested. “She was just lyin’ there in that tub for anyone as might come along.”
“With the bath sheet over the tub and her bathing dress on? It was imprudent of her, but hardly inviting,” the butler intoned ponderously.
“Shall I wake the Duke?” one of the footmen asked.
“Yes,” the butler replied. “I think you should.”
“Yes,” sneered Matthew, “Get the Duke down here. I think he will be very interested in what I have to say.”
For several minutes there was no sound in the kitchen except the soft burble of the ever-present pot of hot water that hung over the coals in the great fireplace, Rags low growls, and Emma’s sobs.This is it. He will tell everyone, and my secret will be out. The Duke is going to be so angry with me.
The Duke came clattering down the stairs, followed by Mr. Hamilton, Captain Arnault, and more footmen. The Duke addressed the butler. “What is it, Mr. Giddeon? What is going on?”
“Miss Kathy was preparing for bed, Your Grace, and she was using the laundry as her bathing room. This is not unusual for the female members of the staff and is a frugal use of the laundry water.”
“Very well, this cannot, then, be cause for the alarm.”
