Page 21 of Marry in Secret
Thomas was no longer that man.
He was going to fight for her. Her and her fortune.
Footmen came and went, emptying cans of hot water into the bath. Clean, steaming hot water. Thomas couldn’t wait to immerse himself in it. He was once fastidious, but that was in another life. In the last years he’d learned to be grateful for a dousing in cold seawater.
And if he smelled of fish afterward, it was still an improvement.
The valet picked up a small pair of silver scissors, ran his gaze over Thomas and pursed his lips distastefully.
“Sorry-looking specimen, aren’t I?”
The valet jumped, as if the table had spoken, and all expression dropped from his face. “Not at all, sir,” he lied smoothly.
“Been at sea a long time. Washing in cold seawater just doesn’t do the trick.”
“Indeed, sir.” Standing well back, the valet gingerly picked up a strand of Thomas’s hair between thumb and finger and snipped at it with a tiny pair of silver scissors. From his expression, he half expected Thomas’s thick bush of hair to attack him. Or perhaps it wasn’t the hair that concerned him.
“You need not worry,” Thomas said dryly. “I take good care to ensure I carry no... livestock on my person.”
In the looking glass, the valet’s gaze met his. “Sir?”
“I’m very particular in that respect.” He couldn’t blame the man. Anyone would expect a man of Thomas’s current appearance to be slovenly in his personal habits. But despite his current appearance, Thomas was as clean and vermin-free as he could possibly make himself.
Enders seemed to accept the assurance. He moved closer and snipped at Thomas’s hair and beard. Clumps of sun-bleached hair dropped to the floor. It was dark underneath.
The valet stepped back. “There, that will do for now. I’lltrim your hair properly and give you a nice close shave once you’ve had your bath, sir.” He frowned, as if to say something, then closed his mouth.
“What is it?” Thomas said, and when the man didn’t answer, he said, “Spit it out, man, I’m beyond being delicate about my situation.”
“Well, sir, I just wondered, wouldn’t you be more comfortable if we sent for your own clothes? I mean, Mr. Galbraith is about your height, but you’re a good deal thinner than he is, except across the shoulders. And what about shoes?” He looked doubtfully at Thomas’s tattered canvas shoes.
“Everything I own is at the bottom of the sea.” Thomas stood and stretched. “I’ve been wearing borrowed clothes ever since.”
The valet’s eyes widened. “Oh, so you wereshipwrecked, sir.” His tone was relieved, as if Thomas had achieved a sudden respectability he had hitherto lacked. “In that case, I’m sure Mr. Galbraith’s wardrobe will do very nicely.” He bustled about, pulling out underclothes, stockings, an immaculately pressed white shirt, breeches, a waistcoat, a starched muslin cravat and more, draping them carefully on the chair beside the window in the order in which Thomas should don them.
He eyed Thomas’s feet with a worried expression. “I’m not sure what we’ll do about shoes for you, sir... There’s a pair of boots that I think might fit you. We bought them last year but the leather stretched and they’re now a little loose on Mr. Galbraith. We’ll try them on after your bath, sir.” Now that he knew the reason for Thomas’s ragged appearance, he seemed to regard him as a worthy challenge, rather than an unpleasant duty.
He fetched towels, sprinkled some bath salts in the bath, swished the water around and indicated a little stool on which sat a dish with soap, a sponge, a little nailbrush and a back scrubber. He reached for Thomas’s coat to help him out of it.
Thomas stepped back. “That will be all, thank you,Enders.” He had no intention of letting Enders or anyone see him naked.
Enders looked puzzled. “But do you not wish for my assistance, sir? Your back scrubbed, or—”
“No. I shall ring for you when I’m ready.” He waited for the valet to leave. Let the man assume he was overly modest or religious or something.
“Very good, sir. You might want to make use of this on your hands.” Enders handed him a pumice stone, bowed and departed, closing the door behind him.
Thomas looked down at his hands. Not the hands of a gentleman. Scarred and callused; the nails were clean but broken. These hands had held Rose. The rough paws of a bear, handling a... a butterfly.
He stripped quickly and stepped into the hot water, sinking into it as deeply as he could. The tub was large but not quite large enough to sink his whole body in. Still he wasn’t about to complain. He lay there soaking up the delicious sensation of clean, hot water for several minutes, then picked up the soap, lathered himself all over and scrubbed himself from head to toe. Then he applied the pumice stone.
By the time he’d finished he’d scrubbed his skin almost raw. He gave a distasteful glance at the murky bathwater, then saw that an extra can of hot water had been left beside the bathtub. He stood and rinsed himself down with the clean water, and finally, for the first time in God knew how long, he felt clean again. Better than he had in weeks. Months. Years.
Feeling like a new man, he dried himself and dressed in the drawers, undershirt, shirt and stockings that Enders had laid out for him. He found a tin of tooth powder and rubbed it on with his fingers, then rinsed. Picking up a small looking glass, he examined his teeth. Still all there and in good order—a legacy from his father.
Seamen were notorious for bad teeth—mostly a result of scurvy—but Thomas’s father had taught him young to care for his teeth as well as his diet, and showed him how tomake an emergency toothbrush out of a chewed twig. It had served him well these last years.
There was a small jar of cloves, and he chewed one to sweeten his breath while he finished dressing. The buckskin breeches were loose around the waist, and he adjusted the buckle at the back to tighten them. The coat, however, was too small across the shoulders. He set it aside. In stockinged feet and shirtsleeves, he rang the bell.
