A Loving Scoundrel

He chuckled. “Course not, but then that’s why it’s amusing.”

  Chapter 14

  DINNER WAS RELAXED THAT NIGHT. It usually was when it was just family and close friends. Anthony had to get in a few digs at Reggie’s husband, Nicholas, of course. It was the one thing that James and Anthony Malory were in complete agreement on, that Nicholas Eden, former rakehell, just wasn’t good enough for their favorite niece and never would be. That the brothers had both been notorious rakes themselves before they married didn’t make a bit of difference.

  Reggie was special to them. All four Malory brothers had had a hand in raising her after their only sister died. And despite that Reggie so obviously adored her husband, James and Anthony weren’t going to let Nick forget that he’d be dealing with them if he ever hurt her.

  But Anthony’s digs tonight were more good-natured than derogatory, and after his wife, Roslynn, kicked him under the table as a gentle reminder to behave, he turned his attention to Jeremy instead.

  “So how’s the new residence shaping up? All staffed and furnished and ready for a grand party?”

  Jeremy coughed. “Half-staffed, barely furnished, and as for parties, perhaps by the winter season.”

  “You have your own place now, Jeremy?” Drew Anderson, his stepmother’s brother, asked in surprise.

  Jeremy grinned. “Just. Uncle Tony and m’father decided it was time for me to experience true bachelorhood.”

  Anthony coughed now. “Bloody hell, makes it sound like we bought him a license to debauch.”

  “I believe he does that very well without a license,” Reggie replied with an impish grin.

  “Don’t encourage him, puss,” Anthony scolded. “Charming scamp that he is, the idea was to introduce him to property management in running his own household, to become his own man, as it were.”

  “Well, he didn’t need help with that,” Reggie disagreed. “He’s been acting the man since he was twelve.”

  “I didn’t mean that sort of manly endeavors.”

  “Och, Tony, you’re falling for her teasing,” Roslynn chimed in with her soft, Scottish brogue. “We know your intentions were good ones.” Then she teased a bit herself, “Though you do need to leave management out of your excuse, since he’s been helping your brother manage our investments for quite a few years now.”

  Jeremy came to Anthony’s rescue this time. “Inspecting rentals, seeing to repairs, and keeping agents honest is quite different from dealing with a household staff.”

  “And good servants are so hard to come by, especially those you want to keep,” Reggie added. “By the by, Jeremy, how’s your new footman working out?”

  “Actually, I’ll take your man,” Jeremy replied. “Send him round tomorrow.”

  “Splendid. But I hope you didn’t let that handsome young lad go just because I offered—”

  “No, no, nothing like that.”

  Jeremy didn’t bother correcting his cousin about the sex of his new servant. He’d installed Danny as an upstairs maid, so there wasn’t much chance of Reggie coming across her again. And truthfully, he didn’t want to talk about her or explain why he’d hired an ex-thief—well, hopefully an ex-thief—to work for him.

  Thankfully, the conversation turned in other directions after that, because having been reminded of her, Jeremy became quite distracted with thoughts of his new maid. It was a novel experience, having to deal with two such opposing emotions where she was concerned, anger and desire. The anger he could control, the desire he wasn’t so sure of. The anger should have canceled the desire. But it didn’t, not even a little.

  Being distracted around his family had its disadvantages as Jeremy found when he realized Drew Anderson was coming home with him. He wasn’t sure how he got elected to put Drew up until his father and his stepmother returned to town, though it was probably because the whole family knew he and Drew had hit it off well, and now that Jeremy had his own bachelor residence, they figured Jeremy would enjoy the company. Which was true enough.

  He liked Drew Anderson. They got along famously, enjoyed the same things, which was women and more women. They’d had some rousing good times together since the Anderson brothers had started coming to London, after their only sister, Georgina, had married into the Malory family. But now was not a good time to have a houseguest, and in particular, one as handsome as Drew was.

  George had said of her brother once that Drew had a sweetheart in every port he’d ever sailed into, and that was probably true. The second youngest of the five Anderson brothers, Drew was the most devil-may-care of the lot, and at thirty-four, still a fun-loving rogue with no intention of ever limiting himself to just one woman, so matrimony was absolutely out of the question for him. Even seeing how nicely his older brother Warren, confirmed bachelor that he’d been, had settled into marriage with Amy Malory and had never been happier wouldn’t change Drew’s mind. Like Jeremy, he was of the firm opinion that variety was the spice of life, and the more of it the better.

  Above average in height at six feet four inches, in prime shape from captaining his own ship for so many years, Drew was definitely a man the ladies cast their eyes toward. With a golden brown mane of curls and eyes so dark it was impossible to guess if they were anything other than black, he was an extremely handsome man—which was why Jeremy wouldn’t have invited him to move in, no matter how temporarily, at least not now when a female was under Jeremy’s roof that he had designs on himself.

  Which had Jeremy saying as they walked the short distance to his house, “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer a hotel for a few days, Drew? My house is barely furnished yet. Beds for every bedroom are about all I’ve bought so far. The other rooms are still empty. I’ve even been eating in the kitchen m’self.”

  That room at least was filling up nicely, now that he had a cook and had given her carte blanche to get whatever she needed. And his own bedroom was fully furnished, thanks to George’s insisting he take everything from his old room.

  Drew chuckled. “A bed is all I need.”

  “It’s too early for bed,” Percy added. His house was just a few blocks away, so he was walking with them. “Aren’t we going—”

  “Not tonight, Percy,” Drew cut in. “It’s been a busy day for me. Docking is always a headache here with so many ships waiting in line for it. And I also spent a good portion of the day at the Skylark Shipping office and have to return there in the morning.”

  “You pulling my leg, old man? Thought all you sailors were eager for some female company after being at sea.”

  Drew grinned. “Absolutely, but I’d prefer to seek that sort of entertainment when I’m fresh and thinking of beds as other than objects to sleep in. Tomorrow night?”

  “Certainly. Looking forward to it. Jeremy? Are you up for—”

  Jeremy decided to interrupt before he was tempted. “I’m due for a good night’s sleep m’self, Percy. Still haven’t caught up from coming home at dawn the other night.”

  Mention of their trip out of London to Heddings’s house had Percy agreeing. “Quite right. Now you mention it, bed does sound rather appealing, don’t it?”

  Jeremy didn’t go directly to bed himself. As soon as he showed Drew to his room, he went to his own and yanked on the bellpull connected to the servants’ quarters. He hoped his housekeeper had explained to Danny what the bell’s ringing in her room signified. He doubted she’d be asleep this early, then again, she could be.

  Actually, it might work to his advantage if she was and the bell woke her. Danny, soft and drowsy, had him thinking of things other than showing her what a lazy employer could be like. Waiting on him hand and foot had been the plan, but not if she was susceptible to his charms instead. He’d have to play it by ear, retribution or some immense pleasure.

  She must have been awake because she arrived soon enough to indicate she hadn’t needed to dress first. He’d been undressing down to just his shirt and pants when she rapped loudly on the door. He opened it quickly and yanked her inside
before Drew investigated the noise.

  “ ’Ere now,” she objected, and jerked her arm out of his grasp.

  “Keep it down. I have company across the hall.”

  She raised a brow, indicating she wasn’t quite buying that excuse. “Wot are ye wanting then?”

  Apparently having secured a job, a roof over her head, and food just down the hall hadn’t improved her disposition any. But she appeared to regret her choice of words immediately because she broadened the distance between them.

  Jeremy knew well that to say what he really wanted would be a serious mistake at this point. She wasn’t ready to hear it. His expression said it though, something he couldn’t seem to control when he was near her.

  But to put her at ease for the moment, he quickly replied, “I need a new bottle of brandy. You’ll find a stock of them in the pantry.”

  “Ye called me up ’ere for that?” she asked incredulously.

  “When ye could’ve fetched it yerself?”

  His eyes widened innocently. “Why ever would I do that, when I have a maid now?”

  She started to snarl something, but snapped her mouth shut and left to get the brandy. Jeremy had a hard time keeping the grin off his face, but managed it before she returned a few minutes later, brandy in hand.

  He’d made himself comfortable in one of the chairs by the fireplace. She approached and shoved the bottle toward him. He merely nodded toward the mantel where the empty bottle sat.

  “Pour me a glass while you’re there,” Jeremy said, then continued derisively, “And I hope I don’t need to add, bring it to me?”

  She made a sound of impatience rather loudly and dumped nearly a third of the bottle in the snifter, much more than was needed. It was a large snifter. She obviously didn’t know any better.

  He sighed, showing some impatience of his own with her ineptitude, and instructed, “No more’n an inch next time.”

  Her back stiffened as she turned with the snifter in hand. It was a wonder the brandy didn’t slosh all over him, she thrust it at him so forcefully. Too bad. He would have had her clean it up. The thought of her leaning close and dabbing a cloth over his chest was quite delectable.

  “You might as well turn the bed down while you’re here,” he suggested. “Mrs. Robertson did explain your duties to you, didn’t she?”

  “Not yet, though I doubt bed turning is one o’ them.”

  “Of course it is, and I’ll expect to find it done each evening. You’ll catch on soon enough, I’m sure. By the by, how did it go with Mrs. Robertson after I left you in her care? Any trouble? You did seem to have some fears in that regard.”

  She seemed to relax slightly with the new subject and, with a shrug, headed toward the bed to yank down the covers. “She’s a nice old bird, she is. She had me repeating m’self a few times until she got used to my speech, but she didn’t seem to mind it.”

  “Danny, Danny,” he sighed. “Look at the mess you’ve made. Turning down the bed is done neatly, not as if you’re changing the bedding. I expect to slip under the sheets, not fight to find them.”

  She blushed over the scolding, but she didn’t balk at trying again. That surprised him. She’d blackmailed her way into the job, so she didn’t really have to take it seriously. Apparently she was going to though, which opened up numerous possibilities that he would find enjoyable, but she probably wouldn’t.

  “Don’t forget to fluff the pillow, too,” he ordered.

  She stiffened again just before she slammed a fist down in the center of his pillow. Jeremy had to bite back a laugh. Retribution was so sweet.

  “My boots now.”

  She glanced at him with a nervous frown and slipped back into her slang. “Wot about them?”

  “Come help me get them off.”

  She didn’t move, sounded quite nervous again when she asked,

  “Don’t ye ’ave a man for that? Wot’s the position called?”

  “A valet. And, no, don’t need one. I have you—to see to such minor details.”

  She closed her eyes. He thought he even heard a groan, though he wasn’t quite sure. Was it the pause? Was he actually getting to her, despite her disagreeable mood? His own blood was warming. Seeing her next to his bed made him want to see her in it.

  “Come here,” he said, his voice turning sensual.

  Her eyes opened wide, but she still wouldn’t approach him. He supposed he’d made her too nervous.

  To alleviate her fears for the moment, he glanced at his feet and reminded her, “My boots? I’d like to get to bed sometime tonight and without them.” She still didn’t move, so he said tersely, “Need I remind you that you wanted, insisted, on having this job?”

  That got her moving. She fairly flew across the room to grab hold of one of his boots and started yanking on it. It wasn’t coming off that way, of course. She tugged and yanked some more. It still wasn’t budging from his foot.

  He finally said dryly, “I suppose you don’t know how to do this either?”

  “I do,” she said in her own defense. “I was just hoping you nabobs wore boots that came off easy.”

  “Well, no need to be squeamish about straddling my leg, dear girl. Just get to it.”

  She did, presenting him with her back and waiting for him to plant his other foot on her backside for the shove needed to get the boot off. But this time Jeremy was frozen. She’d come upstairs without her coat, wearing only her shirt, pants, and socks, so nothing was covering the shapely derriere that was suddenly in front of him and quite within his reach. It was probably one of the harder things he ever did, not taking advantage of that and instead putting his foot to her derriere instead of his hands.

  Annoyed that she was making him want her again, he shoved a bit harder than necessary. She stumbled several feet away as the boot came off, but she didn’t seem to think anything was amiss in that and she came right back to tackle the other one.

  In an attempt to cool his ardor, he remarked casually, “I notice you’re still wearing your thiefly garb. Couldn’t Mrs. Robertson find you any suitable clothes?”

  She glanced around to give him a cross look for the term he’d used, but there was no inflection in her tone. “She did. She took me to her sister’s seamstress. Said it would be a waste of time to look for that new ready-made clothing to fit me. Didn’t want my ankles showing, she said.”

  “Well, that’s too bad. Showing ankles sounds interesting.”

  She snorted at his grin. “The first dress will be sent over sometime tomorrow, the other one by the next day.”

  “Only two? That won’t do a’tall.”

  “I don’t need more’n that and told her so.”

  “Of course you do. Can’t have you washing your clothes every day. Pure waste of time, that. I’ll let her know to increase the order. And how d’you like the room? Finding it satisfactory?”

  The second boot came off, in time for her to turn and lift a brow at him. “And you’d be changing it if it weren’t?”

  He stood up and leaned close to her to say in a conspiratorial whisper, “My room is available for sharing if you’d prefer. I know I would.”

  Her back stiffened. “Not bleedin’ likely, mate.”

  He straightened and sighed at her tone. “You need to stop being so defensive, Danny, over such harmless flirtation. Really, I don’t bite, you know—well, only if it gives pleasure, which it usually does. Like nibbling on your neck.” His tone got husky. “And your ear—and this might be a good time for you to leave.”

  Bloody hell, she did.

  Chapter 15

  DANNY HURRIED DOWN THE HALL to the kitchen. She’d over-slept and had had to be wakened, which wasn’t a good way to start her new job. And it was such a nice job. She still couldn’t believe she’d be living and working in such a fine house. Even the hall in the servants’ wing was carpeted! But even needing a maid, Malory wouldn’t have hired her if she hadn’t blackmailed him. She felt bad about that. She’d make up for it thoug
h, vowed to be a better maid than he could have found by normal means.

  Thinking about him brought on a twinge of excitement that she quickly tamped down. It wasn’t going to be easy ignoring her attraction to him, but she would, because a man like that would be her downfall otherwise.

  Danny reached the kitchen. The cook was there, Mrs. Appleton. She was a jovial middle-aged woman, short but hefty. She liked to sing while she was cooking and got very loud at it, too.

  She’d laughed yesterday when Mrs. Robertson had introduced Danny as the new upstairs maid, laughed for nearly ten minutes, off and on, every time she glanced at Danny. It was the clothes, at least Danny hoped that was all that was causing the woman such amusement. She’d probably never seen a woman wearing pants before.

  Her helper, Claire, was in the kitchen now, too, the grumpy girl who’d let Danny in the house yesterday. She was quick to point out when Danny walked into the room, “You’re late.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “The food is cold now.”

  It was said as if that were Danny’s fault. Claire was definitely a glum sort. Dumpy of shape, shoulders stooped, she seemed to wear a perpetual frown—at least Danny had yet to see any other expression cross her face. Or maybe it just seemed so in contrast to the happy cook.

  “I ’aven’t time to eat it now,” Danny explained with a wistful sigh as she stared at the wide assortment of dishes that had been prepared. She was hungry.

  “Why not?” Claire demanded. “Where else are you going then? It’s the food you’re late for.”

  “Oh. But ain’t I late for work?”

  Claire snorted. “I work early, you don’t. You have to wait until the master vacates his room so you can clean it. There’s to be no noise upstairs that might wake him sooner than he planned to wake.”

  “But wot if ’e sleeps all day?”

  “Then you’ll be working at night, won’t you. And work on your speech as well,” Claire added in disgust. “Cor, you sound like a street urchin. Where do you come from?”