Page 2 of The Lyon Whisperer
The earl stopped dead in his tracks. His face went instantly crimson. “Bah, it’s too fine a day to waste indoors. Let us away to the veranda. Anything you need to say, can wait ’til then.” He hastened toward the door.
Chase was momentarily shocked into motionlessness. Evidently the earlwasaware of the strange goings-on amongst his servants. At least he did not look pleased. That was something.
Fallsgate halted at the open doorway. He sent Chase a severe frown.
Chase started to follow, then froze when a low rumble sounded behind him and the stone under his feet vibrated. He whipped around to see the entire wall of shelves turning on an axis to reveal what looked to be the manse’s drying room.
The layout made sense. The cellar was located toward the back of the manse, near the servants’ domain. A hidden entrance to the laundry and drying rooms on the main floor was not uncommon in these old, grand homes.
“Dear God,” Fallsgate muttered and stalked back toward the opening.
Two female servants peeked out from behind the wall, eyes wide as saucers. The men in their midst had evidently fled.
In addition to their shocked expressions, both women wore soaked aprons, and scarves over the tops of their heads to hold their hair back, he assumed.
One of the maids was…extraordinarily beautiful. He’d almost never seen eyes the color of hers. Blue, but not ordinary blue. Nearly violet. The lashes framing those wide-set eyes were thick and black as coal.
She was a bold one. Brazen enough to meet his stare with one of her own, even if she did look dismayed by the sight of them. She was the woman he’d heard purring into her lover’s ear, of that he had no doubt.
The earl cleared his throat, and she seemed to remember her place. She lowered her eyes and dipped an awkward curtsey before Fallsgate, murmuring an apology, as the other maid dropped her load and ran as if escaping the gates of hell. He heard a loud bang as an outer door slammed shut behind the escapee.
Only then did he note…puppies. Five of them, coats slicked from a recent bath. Two had the audacity to wiggle at his feet in ecstatic glee, and three jostled for position to poke their shining noses out of the apron of the lone servant left standing. She held it in front of her, knuckles turning white.
The awkward curtsey suddenly made perfect sense.
He wondered if now was a good time to offer his butler’s services in procuring some reliable servants for the earl.
“Dear God, can someone stop those beasts?” the earl bellowed as the two puppies the missing housemaid had off-loaded bolted for the door leading from the cellar to the manse.
Chase pointed at the two miscreants and spoke in his most authoritative tone. “You. Stop. Sit.”
The puppies sat at once, turning doleful brown eyes on him.Wait.Did one of them have—
“Father, I’m so sorry…”
His head whipped in her direction.Father?This housemaid was Fallsgate’sdaughter?
“I had no idea you and your guest would visit your cellar. Sally and I—”
Grim-faced, Fallsgate held up a hand, palm out, staying her attempt to explain.
Meanwhile Chase found himself in the unfamiliar position of having to school his features. With an effort of will, he lowered his brows, closed his gaping mouth, and affected an expression of bland interest, or so he hoped.
He’d never have imagined the conservative old blue blood would permit his own daughter such hoydenish behavior.
“We shall discuss this later, Amelia. In the meantime…” He shifted on his heel, meeting Culver’s eye, his expression one of wary resignation. “Lord Culver, may I introduce my daughter, Lady Amelia Duval.”
He eyed her ungloved hands, still fisted on the corners of her apron, and clipped a brief bow. “Lady Amelia, Lord Chase Culver, at your service.”
“My lord.” That breathy, melodic voice again.
His insides reacted like someone ran a finger down his spine. What the hell was the matter with him?
As to his effect on the lady, he detected no discernible reaction. Certainly she did not appear intimidated as was often the case with young ladies of thetonupon meeting him. Uncle Harry chalked up his disquieting effect to his having the hard look of a military man about him.
Apparently, Lady Amelia Duval did not cow easily.
Though she darted furtive glances between him and her father, she no longer looked embarrassed at being caught in the act of such indecorous behavior. Rather, her furrowed brows and distracted expression seemed to Chase an indication of impatience.
