CamillasConsequences by Helena Harker Read Free Book Online

have an appointment to discuss the upcoming vote.”
    “All right, ma’am,” she says with a good dose of skepticism. As she heads up the spiral staircase, which is in no way as grand as my own, I notice how her curvaceous figure fills out her drab clothing.
    For a housekeeper, she lacks tact. It is a wonder Lord Aldridge keeps her in his employ considering her lack of civility. Unless…oh dear, can it be? Another conquest, this time a young female? Does Aldridge know no limits? I must make sure, however, before making false accusations. Several minutes later, as I have begun to pace in the foyer, the girl returns and gives me my card.
    “Lord Aldridge never called for you.” Her gray eyes chastise me. “He would like you to leave.”
    She does not even do me the courtesy of saying please. The top button of her dress is undone, revealing milky skin and a slight yellowish bruise. A bite mark? Was her dress undone when she answered the door? I cannot recall.
    I hold my beaver stole closer to my neck and produce a sealed envelope. “Give him this.”
    Her hands remain by her side. “You should go. Lord Aldridge says it’s not proper for a spinster to call on a married man.”
    A spinster! How dare she insult me in this manner! And she has the audacity to lecture me on morality. Me? Me? “Why you insolent little tart!” Taking two brash steps forward, I shove the envelope into her palm. “Give him this. And button your dress.”
    The girl staggers back. “Yes ma’am.” Her cheeks flush as she fumbles for the top button. “Sorry, ma’am.”
    She scurries up the stairs, holding her dress in one hand, revealing calves that are firm and white. And bitten. That is all the proof I need. Damn you, Aldridge. Sighing, I await the girl’s return. As expected, it does not take long.
    This time, when she speaks to me, her attitude is much improved. “Lord Aldridge will see you in the library, Miss Covington.”
    I walk primly behind her, up the curving staircase, down a narrow hallway and into a room that smells of cigar smoke. Rows and rows of books cover the walls of an austere library, decorated in somber ocher tones. Most definitely a place where a man can retreat from the rest of the household. Along a bay window covered by lush draperies is a rococo divan. On the other side of the room are two overstuffed easy chairs covered in plush pile upholstery. The stench of smoke lingers in the air, and at the far end, sitting at his walnut desk, is Lord Aldridge, an offending roll of tobacco between his lips.
    “Thank you,” I say to the girl, whose name I still do not know. “Bring us tea with scones, please.”
    “We have no scones.”
    “Then begin baking.” She should not witness what is about to transpire. “I will be here for quite some time.”
    She looks questioningly at Aldridge, and he gives her an almost imperceptible nod.
    The moment the girl leaves, I say, “Put out your cigar.”
    “No.” He takes a lengthy inhalation and puffs a huge cloud of smoke in my direction. When he is done, he props both feet on his desk.
    What boorish behavior. On the outside, he appears to be a gentleman, his muscular frame covered by a charcoal smoking jacket, his hair fashionably oiled and slicked back, but on the inside, he is arrogant and conceited.
    “You are not taking me seriously.” A careless—and costly—error on his part.
    “What is the meaning of this?” He taps a finger on my handwritten note, which says, I know of your extramarital affair .
    The servant girl bears the marks of Aldridge’s passions. I filmed his encounter with Tewkesbury. Over the past few months, on my nocturnal forays, I have seen him embrace two other men. He must wonder which affair I am referring to.
    “First of all, you are abusing your housekeeper.”
    “And you are wasting my time. This piece of paper means nothing.” He places his cigar between his lips, inhales until the tip glows red and sets fire to the note. After a brief