Page 38 of Once More, My Darling Rogue
Of all she’d said, he was going back to that? “I meant no insult. I suppose I shouldn’t be so informal with my employer.”
“No, you should not.”
“I’m only to tend to your residence?”
“Precisely. And the packages I brought you.”
She considered prodding him about the gardener but perhaps she would have more success if she brought it up another time. She would so love to have flowers to brighten up the rooms. But as he seemed most anxious for her to examine the contents of the packages, she returned her attention to them.
Setting aside the frock, she lifted other items, realizing they were underthings, much finer and softer than what she was presently wearing. The heat scorching her face, she shoved them beneath the dress.
“No need to blush,” he said. “I’m well acquainted with women’s undergarments.”
She had no doubt there, but she didn’t much like the cockiness in his words or the satisfaction in his smile. She didn’t want to think about women draped over him, stroking his dragon, his chest, any part of him. “Do you bring your ladies here?”
“No.”
Taking some comfort in his not parading them past her, she wondered why it mattered. She was his servant, nothing more. Yet it seemed there should be more.
With the undergarments stuffed aside, one more item remained. A nightdress. She would no longer have to sleep in his shirt. The thought didn’t bring as much joy as it should, but she didn’t want to examine the reasons either, because they were mocking her, reminding her that she didn’t want to be here, and yet she did.
He then nudged what appeared to be a box toward her. But when she untied the string and folded back the paper, she discoveredThe Book of Household Management. If the uniform hadn’t succeeded in reminding her of his expectations, the book did, glaringly so.
“The housekeeper of the woman who raised me assures me that Mrs. Beeton, the author, is the authority when it comes to proper management of a household,” he said.
“I see.”
“It also includes recipes so you’ll have more success at preparing my dinners.”
Flipping through the pages, she couldn’t imagine anything that would be less joyous to read. After setting it aside, she reached for one of the two remaining packages.
“No, this one first.”
Inside were four more books, but these ... Reverently, she trailed her fingers over two leather-bound works by Austen and two by Dickens.
“Thought I might as well give you something to dust on the shelves,” he said.
She peered up at him. “So these are yours, not mine.”
He shrugged. “You’re welcome to read them while you’re here.”
“You say that as though you don’t expect me to be here for long.”
“No, it’s just that—”
“I can’t blame you. I’m not what you thought when you hired me.”
“Your position is secure,” he said impatiently, shoving the last package into her hands.
Discarding the string and paper, she revealed a sturdy leather box. Setting it on the table, she lifted the hinged lid. Inside, nestled in velvet, were a silver hairbrush, comb, and hand mirror. Flowers were intricately carved into the back of the brush and mirror. “They’re beautiful.”And costly, a little voice in the back of her mind whispered. She didn’t know how she knew but she knew. “I hardly know what to say.”
“There’s nothing to say. I noticed you used mine and that won’t do.”
Of course it wouldn’t do. She was his servant. She should have used her fingers or simply let the tangles have their way. “You can take these out of my salary if you like.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. They’re a gift.”
“I can’t accept it.”
