River Of Fire by Mary Jo Putney Read Free Book Online Page A

his marred face to his hands and wrists, where the faint scars of half a dozen minor wounds were visible. "I see what you mean. At least you'll be useful as a battle consultant."
    He supposed he should take her left-handed compliment as a step in the right direction. His gaze went back to the picture. Thinking out loud, he said, "It's very fine, but the style is rather different from the other examples of Sir Anthony's painting I've seen. Was this an experimental work? The dramatic composition and richness of color are characteristic, but the lines are softer, with a quality that is almost poetic."
    Rebecca didn't answer, merely watched him from narrowed eyes. Perhaps this was another test. He glanced at the corner of the picture, where Sir Anthony marked all of his work with a small AS. This time, however, the initials looked like
RS
. He stared. Could they stand for Rebecca instead of Anthony? "Good God, did you paint this?"
    "Why the shock?" she said waspishly. "Are you one of those men who think women can't paint?"
    Stunned, he looked at the picture with new eyes. "Not at all. It's only that I had no idea you are also an artist." And what an artist! Technically she was very nearly her father's equal, with a distinctive style that was simultaneously akin and different. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised; historically, female artists were usually daughters or wives of male painters. It was the only way a woman would have the chance to learn the necessary skills. "No wonder you don't want to spend your time on housekeeping. That would be a criminal waste of your talent."
    For a moment Rebecca looked almost bashful at the praise, but her voice had its usual bite when she said, "I couldn't agree more. That's why it's essential to have someone capable to run the household." Her expression made it clear that she doubted he was up to the job.
    It was time to prove his competence. "Before I meet the staff, I need to know more. How many servants do you have?"
    She thought a moment. "There are currently four female and three male servants."
    "Have they been with you for a long time?"
    "Only the coachman, Phelps. The rest have been here only a few months."
    A pity; servants could have been a prime source of information. Kenneth would have to cultivate the coachman. "Why so many new people? And why hasn't it been possible to keep a capable housekeeper?"
    "My mother preferred to manage the household herself. Since her death, everything has been chaotic. My father has not… been himself. I tried two different housekeepers, but neither understood the requirements of running an artist's house. Father would become provoked and discharge servants who irritated him. The ones he didn't fire soon left for more orderly establishments. Then Tom Morley began overseeing the servants. That worked fairly well, even though the dusting suffered."
    "Are there any positions currently vacant?"
    "We're in dire need of a cook and a butler." A wicked gleam showed in her eyes. "Two applicants for cook should be here soon. You may do the interviewing and selection."
    He nodded as if that were the most natural thing in the world. But as he followed her downstairs, he wondered wryly what the men in his regiment would think if they could see him now.
     
    ----
Chapter 5

     
    The servants were relaxing over tea and buttered bread in their sitting room off the kitchen when Rebecca arrived with Captain Wilding. The buzz of conversation died down and six pairs of eyes swiveled toward the new arrivals. Everyone but Phelps, the groom, was present.
    "This is Sir Anthony's new secretary, Captain Wilding," Rebecca said tersely. "You will be taking your orders from him." She made an ironic gesture that transferred all responsibility to the captain.
    As he surveyed the group, the maid who flirted with everyone glanced slyly at her favorite footman and gave a knowing giggle. Wilding's calm gaze went to her face. Her expression instantly sobered. Not a word was spoken.