Page 8 of The Rakehell's Seduction
“We’re delighted you came to visit us. Aren’t we, Alex?” her father prompted cheerily.
“Yes,” Alex replied coolly. Her father didn’t notice her tone. Ambrose did. She could swear his lips quirked the slightest bit. Had he ever really smiled, one that wasn’t intended to seduce? Each time his eyes flicked to her, those sensual lips quirked. And each time, she was drawn to those lips, watching them, even though she hated herself for it.
“Well, the hour is late. You two have been dancing the night away. No doubt you both wish to be tucked into bed. Come, Worthing, I’ll have a footman escort you to your room.”
The second her father’s back was turned, Ambrose licked his lips, eyeing her the way a cat did a fat canary. Alex flushed. It was imperative she get out of this room and to the safety of her chambers after she’d had a chance to set some of her plans in motion.
“Goodnight, Papa, Mr. Worthing.” She kissed her father’s cheek, and without looking back at Ambrose, she left.
She rushed down to the kitchen. The large kitchen was carefully swept, pots hanging from the wooden rack over the primary preparation counter. Spices hung from twine near the windows, scenting the room with basil and rosemary. She found the cook, Mrs. Cooper, taking stock of the inventory in the larders.
“Eggs, flour…salt, and lemons. I want to make a meringue in a few days.”
The scullery maid, Beth, had a paper with a pencil and was jotting down notes of what they needed. Alex smiled. If there was one thing about her father that she loved more than anything, it was that he insisted his staff be educated in reading and writing—not just the upper staff, but the lower staff right down to the scullery maid.
Beth pursed her lips as she scribbled down “Lemons.” Then she glanced up and saw Alex, and with a startled but shy smile, she nudged the cook in the back.
“What is it, girl?” Mrs. Cooper turned around and brushed back a lock of dark hair that had fallen out of her cap. “Oh, Lady Alex, what can I do for you?”
Feeling a tad guilty but determined not to change her mind, she approached the cook. “Mrs. Cooper, our guest, Mr. Worthing, has very particular appetites.”
“Oh, aye? What does he like? You know me, my lady. I can fix anything.” Mrs. Cooper looked proud.
“That’s just it—he prefers porridge for breakfast and luncheon. And he wishes to be served in his room at six o’clock in the morning on a tray. He doesn’t like to dine with the others.”
“Porridge? Surely…” Mrs. Cooper frowned and scratched at her head.
“Yes,” Alex said. “And don’t sweeten it with any sugar or fruit. He prefers it bitter, with some extra salt.”
Beth made a sour face at the description, and Alex couldn’t blame her. Porridge was bad enough, but salty porridge—well, that was quite another horror on its own.
“Are you quite sure, my lady? I’d be happy to prepare some nice eggs and—”
“Just the porridge, Mrs. Cooper.” She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at what poor Ambrose would do when he had to eat salty porridge tomorrow morning.
“Very well,” Mrs. Cooper sighed. It wasn’t in her nature to prepare anything distasteful. She took pride in her culinary abilities.
“Oh, and can you tell Mrs. Marsden that we’ll need a footman to act as Mr. Worthing’s valet tonight. His own valet will be coming down from London tomorrow.”
“Of course.” Mrs. Cooper nodded and bustled off toward Mrs. Marsden’s office. The housekeeper would know which of the young men would be most suited as a temporary valet. Alex would let him have that at least. She grinned and had to keep from rubbing her hands together in glee. If he insisted on testing her, she was going to see that other things would go awry while he was here.
Really, I ought to be ashamed of myself. But I’m not.
Alex went back upstairs to her own bedchamber. Her lady’s maid, Mary, was tidying up her vanity table, and she smiled when Alex walked in.
“Evening, my lady.” A dimple formed in Mary’s cheek when she smiled.
“Evening, Mary.” She closed the bedroom door and then turned her back to let her maid loosen the laces of her gown and then her stays.
“I take it the ball was exciting?” Mary asked, her tone full of hope. Alex always shared with her the details of the events she went to, since Mary seemed to enjoy the tales of the wild hunts young ladies went on for husbands.
“It was, but only because I ran into the infamous Mr. Worthing.”
Mary gasped. “Isn’t he the guest who just arrived tonight?”
Alex let the ball gown drop to the floor, and she stepped out of it and then shimmied out of her loosened stays before slipping out of her shoes.
“Yes, but you remember I told you about him, one of London’s infamous rakes?” She lifted her foot onto the bed and unfastened her garters before peeling her stockings off one foot and then the other.
