Somewhat Scandalous (Brambridge Novel 1) by Pearl Darling Read Free Book Online Page B

rather interested in what she had been planning to do with the spoon and the egg. Reaching out a long arm for the soap, he rubbed it along his chest, watching in satisfaction as a generous lather was generated.
    Stopping, he sniffed and frowned as the faint aromas of pork filled the air. Who was cooking at this time of night? Rubbing his arm, he continued to clean himself.
    The smell of pork became stronger.
    “What in the hell?” Henry stared down at the bar of soap in his hand. Mixed in to its yellow texture were black flecks. Bringing the bar to his face, he sniffed and recoiled.
    “I’ve found out what experiment Miss Beauregard intends to do next, sir.”
    Henry dropped the soap in the bathwater with a splash. Ames quietly shut the bedroom door behind him. The smell of pork rose again through the air on the steam of the hot bath.
    Ames sniffed. “They intend to make soap from homemade potash sir. Gods what is that smell?”
    Henry slammed his hand down into the bath. “That smell, Ames, is me. I rather think you are a little late with your information. Agatha and Victoria appear to have made soap using pork dripping.” Grabbing a towel from a stand near the fire, he stood and furiously rubbed at his skin. “I need another bath.”
      “You can’t, sir. You’ve used up all the hot water. It’ll be nearly an hour until you can have one.”
    “Gods Ames, what have you been doing? You need to keep an eye on her.”
    “Miss Aggie, you mean?”
    “Yes… she’s a… she’s a liability… a…baggage of the highest order!”
    Ames pulled another towel off the rack and handed it to Henry. “Would you like me to order another bath, sir?”
    “Yes. Right away.”
    It was five o clock in the morning before he slept, and then only fitfully at that. Eggs and spoons chased him around the grounds of a familiar large house where the sea air swirled in the trees. When he tried the front door to escape from them, it was opened unexpectedly by Agatha. I’m being chased, he’d said, mumbling in his dream. Agatha had not said a word, but raised her eyebrows in disbelief. A crash sounded behind him. Looking back, the egg and the spoon lay splattered against the steps.
    It was then that he awoke, a ringing in his ears, the lingering image of Agatha in his mind. He’d been sure that she had made to open the door wider to the house, inviting him in. Inviting him into his own family home.
    With a grunt, he pulled his pocket watch off the table. Nine o’ clock in the morning. Gods but his ears hurt; what had woken him so loudly? Pulling on his dressing gown, he blearily left his room and strode down the stairs.
    “What’s going on?”
    Nobody answered him; the usual footmen were absent from their post in the hall. Pulling his dressing gown tighter, he glanced quickly down the stairs. The door to the drawing room stood slightly ajar. Taking the stairs two at a time, he made straight for the door and strode inside.
    Agatha lay sprawled on the floor by an upturned chair, the table in front of her a charred mess. With a curse, he ran to her side and knelt on the floor. He took her hand and leaned over her face. Agatha’s large eyes looked back at him, green and luminous. Slowly she blinked. With a sigh, Henry sank back on his heels and looked back around the room. A footman was busy sweeping up the ashes, whilst another held a bandage to Victoria’s eyebrow.
    Agatha put her free hand to her head and hiccupped. “Mrs. B. did say that one shouldn’t open phosphorous to the air at home. Perhaps we should have listened to her.”
    The footman next to Henry sniffed and looked up. “Lord Anglethorpe… err.”
    Victoria gazed at him from one barely open eye. “Bloody hell,” she said limply.
    Henry dropped Agatha’s hand, staring at her as she rubbed lightly at her face. Drawing in a deep breath, he got to his feet. For a few seconds he closed his eyes and just breathed. It was for their own good. Clenching his hands