Bedding The Baron by Alexandra Ivy Read Free Book Online Page A

he entered this room.
    Now he felt a ridiculous sense of curiosity as he studied the collection of classical works and extensive farming texts that made up the bulk of the books.
    With a shake of his head, Fredrick thrust aside his strange broodings. What did it matter that he had never known what authors his father loved? If he preferred to curl up with the classics of Plato or Coke’s latest farming techniques? What he knew of his father could fit into a thimble, and he had managed to survive quite well in the world.
    Dunnington, along with Ian and Raoul, had been all the family he had ever needed.
    Fredrick made a swift search on the shelves, seeking for hidden safes, and even hidden doorways. He felt a fool tapping on wood, and tugging on books, but when he heard the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps he was fairly confident that there was nothing to be discovered in the study.
    With swift movements he was back in the drawing room, staring aimlessly out the long bank of windows when the cook swept through the door with a large tray in her hands.
    “Fredrick, my dear boy.” Smiling broadly, the middle-aged woman with a dark braid curled at the nape of her neck and a plump, pleasant face set the tray on a low table. “Oh, but it is good to have you here.”
    “Thank you, Mrs. Shaw.” Without hesitation Fredrick moved to pull the woman into a tight hug. Mrs. Shaw had been the one to comfort him when he cried as a mere tot, and baked him special treats to ease his loneliness. Stepping back, he took a deep sniff of the delicious smells filling the room. “Good God, do I smell plum pudding?”
    Fussing with her apron, Mrs. Shaw managed to hide the tears of pleasure that filled her eyes.
    “I have not forgotten your sweet tooth. There is also a tasty pheasant pie and green pea soup.”
    Fredrick promptly took his place on the sofa and filled a bowl with his favorite soup.
    “A magnificent feast.”
    Planting her hands on her ample hips, the cook appeared ready to hover over Fredrick until he had eaten every morsel on the tray.
    “Young gentlemen need plenty of plain, hearty food. Not that fancy stuff they serve in London. ’Tis no wonder that you are as thin as a reed.”
    He gave a small laugh at her obvious disdain for London chefs. “I assure you that I have yet to enjoy a meal equal to yours, no matter where I might travel.”
    A flush touched the round cheeks. “Such a flatterer.”
    “It is no more than the simple truth.” Fredrick sampled the soup, his mind searching for the best means of interrogating the woman. Unlike Morgan, Mrs. Shaw was always prepared to enjoy a nice chat. “Tell me, Mrs. Shaw, how long have you been at Oak Manor?”
    The woman blinked in surprise, but thankfully did not appear suspicious of his probing.
    “Good heavens, let me think.” She frowned as she pondered the question. “I was just turned twenty when I came as a scullery maid, so it must be near on twenty-seven years.”
    Twenty-seven years ago. The same time his father inherited the estate.
    “I suppose you must have been born and raised in the nearby village?”
    “No, indeed. The entire staff was hired in Winchester.”
    Fredrick narrowed his gaze. He had never realized that his father had hired an entirely new staff on his arrival to Oak Manor. It may be meaningless. In fact, it probably was. But it was the first odd detail he could jot into his notebook.
    “Surely not the entire staff?” he protested. “There must be a few old retainers rattling about?”
    “Nary a one.” Mrs. Shaw gave a lift of her hands. “When your father took over the estate he pensioned off what few staff still remained and brought in a whole new lot. I always thought that Lady Graystone was behind it all. She was eager to take her place as mistress of the manor and she didn’t want to be having anyone about who might compare her to the last mistress. After all, she was no more than a merchant’s daughter, and it was rumored