Never Trust a Pirate by Anne Stuart Read Free Book Online Page B

out at the housekeeper’s ramrod-straight back as the woman departed. Well, no one said this was going to be easy.
    She removed her hat and turned to look at the rooms on either side of her. The one on the left had broken furniture stacked to the ceiling and only a small window. The one on the right was less jumbled and it had a huge dormer, but it smelled very strongly of mouse and at least two of the four mattresses had been chewed.
    She glanced back to her left, about to attack it when she noticed some ominous shapes in the eaves, the kind that belonged in dark caves. She slammed the door shut and turned back to the rat room. She could fight rodents with the help of an imported cat—she couldn’t fight bats.
    The thin, mouse-shredded sheets on the beds ripped as she pulled them off, and she placed them at the head of the stairs very carefully, not wanting to drop any more mouse dung on the floors. She held back a piece of the fabric, and her first act was to descend the stairs and retrieve the dead bat. Flinging the rag over it to hide it from her view, she then gingerly scooped it up, trying not to breathe.
    The dormer window looked out over the tangled garden behind the house, and she tried to toss the foul thing as far as she could, letting the rag go with it. The scrap of cloth floated down slowly and gracefully, and she suddenly noticed the figure of a big burly man watching her. He had grizzled gray hair but he was too far away for her to see his face. Obviously the captain, and he looked much as she’d imagined him to be. She resisted the impulse to wave at him, pulling back inside the room.
    One bed held a mattress that seemed to have avoided the predatory mice, and she chose that one, dragging the other mattresses out of the room and dumping them in the open space as well as the rusted bed frames, broken chairs, and accumulated detritus of a once larger staff. When she was finished, the large room held a single bed with a mattress that didn’t sag too badly, a small dresser with a washbowl and pitcher, a three-legged table she propped in the corner, and a decent chair. Once she was able to give it a good scrubbing, it would do very well.
    Maddy glanced out the window. She’d left her watch behind—no simple maid would possess anything so valuable—so she had no idea what time it was. If she had to guess by the waning light it was likely close to six o’clock, and Mrs. Crozier was probably on the verge of coming after her. Maddy’s feet hurt, her lower back had a crick in it, and she wanted more than anything to sit on that bed, even lie down for a few moments. She hadn’t even started her day’s work and already she was exhausted.
    Tant pis
, as Bryony would say. Too bad. She was the one who’d decided to do this, and she’d reap the consequences. A little hard work never killed anyone.

CHAPTER FIVE

    B Y DINNERTIME M ADDY WAS convinced she was going to die. Her feet were past hurting—they were numb. She hadn’t sat down in three hours, and now was washing what seemed to be three weeks’ worth of dishes, shifting from one foot to the other, trying to find some sort of ease. Her shoulders ached, the small of her back was screaming, her arms felt rubbery and weak. She was a naturally energetic creature—there was no reason she should be so tired.
    She had merely cleaned out eight fireplaces and reset the fires, hauling out the ashes and hauling in the coal since the so-called boy seemed to be nonexistent, and Wilf, Mrs. Crozier’s elderly, slightly inebriated husband, seemed to be glued to a chair in their quarters, appearing every now and then to fetch a mug of ale and then disappearing again. Maddy swept the salon and dining room furiously, letting loose a cloud of dust that settled over every surface, astonishing given the amount she was able to shovel into a dustbin. She then dusted every possible surface, shaking the rag out the windows at constant intervals. At first she paid no attention