Jo Beverley - [Malloren] by Secrets of the Night Read Free Book Online Page A

hooks, please.”
    The maid pushed herself up, shoving her huge nightcap back straight, and set to work. “Yes, milady? Is it that man? Is he worse?”
    “No, not worse. Listen. I’ve told him that this is a place called Gillsett, and that my name is Mrs. Gillsett.”
    After three fumbling hooks, Millie asked, “Why?”
    “It doesn’t matter
why.
Just make sure to keep up the pretense if you have to help me with him.”
    “You can’t be taking care of the likes of him, milady!”
    “I already have.” Her dress fastened, Rosamunde stood and turned. “He was sick in the night.”
    “You should have called for me to take care of that, milady!”
    Rosamunde could imagine the performance that would have been. “It wasn’t necessary. But I left the chamber pot outside the back door. If the Yockenthwaits haven’t handled it, you should. The main thing is that you not let him know where he really is.”
    “If you say so, milady.” Rosamunde could hear the dull befuddlement in the maid’s voice, but she knew Millie wouldn’t waste energy on questions. Millie worked herself and her many layers of clothing out of bed. “I’ll be up and dressed, and look after that chamber pot, milady.”
    Rosamunde headed downstairs, trying to get her schemes straight in her mind. Even if Millie had to attend the man, she wouldn’t chatter, but would she remember not to “milady” Rosamunde?
    Well then, perhaps she’d be
Lady
Gillsett. Wife of … Sir Archibald Gillsett. Sir Archibald could be ancient, and spend most of his time taking the waters at Harrogate or Matlock.
    That was why she was a neglected wife.
    She rather liked this other identity. Lady Gillsett—a bolder, wilder woman than Rosamunde, Lady Overton. Lady Gillsett wouldn’t have butterflies in her tummy at the thought of the man upstairs and what was going to happen. She’d be licking her scarlet lips in anticipation.
    When
was it going to happen? After breakfast? Rosamunde froze at the bottom of the stairs, hand over but-terflies. That meant
daytime!
    Things that had seemed possible in the night seemed very impossible in broad daylight. She and Digby had never done it except under cover of night. On the other hand, she wasn’t entirely sure she could keep the man for another night. If he was recovered enough for … for what she wanted, he would surely be recovered enough to leave.
    She could lock him in.
    A captive lover, she thought, hand over mouth suppressing a wild giggle.
    Lady Gillsett wouldn’t blink at that. Lady Gillsett probably picked up handsome rogues all over the land and discarded them after use without a backward glance. Rosamunde went forward, trying to walk like Lady Gillsett, head at a saucy angle, hips swaying, pausing by the mirror in the hall to study the effect.
    She rolled her eyes. Even from her good side it looked ridiculous. She had always been the wholesome type, and her nut-brown curls and round, rosy cheeks couldn’t look at all wicked. She tried hiding her ordinary blue eyes with sultry lashes, but then she looked half asleep! She supposed if she had a low-cut gown, she could show off her generous breasts. But she didn’t, so she couldn’t.
    He’d agreed, she reminded herself firmly. He didn’t need to be seduced into it.
    She found the kitchen bustling, steam puffing out of pots, tasty aromas of fresh-baked bread and frying bacon wafting from the hearth. A thin young maid busily cleared the men’s breakfast plates—they’d obviously eaten and gone about their work—and Mrs. Yocken-thwait punched down a huge crock of bread dough with her powerful fist.
    “You’re up early, milady. Give us a minute and Jessie can set up the breakfast room.”
    Rosamunde sat at the plain kitchen table. “I’d be happy to take my breakfast here, Mrs. Yockenthwait.”
    The woman’s brows rose, but as she flung a cloth over the crock and put it back near the hearth, she said, “Right then. Jessie, lay a place with the good