A Bride for the Prizefighter - Alice Coldbreath Page 0,22

First, she stripped them of all their rugs which she hung outside on the washing line. Then she turned her attention to the cobwebs and washing down the paintwork with diluted water and soap. While she was doing this, Edna appeared with a cup of tea for her and hovered in the doorway.

“Shall I help you in here, Mrs. Nye or will I continue stripping the bedrooms from last weekend?”

It was the first time Edna had come to her for any direction and Mina thought a moment before answering. “No, you carry on with the bedrooms, Edna. I’m sure you know what you’re about.”

Edna nodded and then withdrew something from her apron which turned out to be a tin of beeswax polish for the furniture. “Thought you might be wanting this for the furniture,” she said shortly and placed it on a table.

“Thank you,” said Mina, coming forward to take her cup and saucer. “Polish will be most useful.”

“Bought you this, too,” said Edna, withdrawing a bottle of gin. Mina opened her mouth to explain she did not care for it, but Edna forestalled her. “It’s for polishing the mirrors,” she explained.

“Gin?”

“Gives it a lovely sparkle, it do,” said Edna wistfully. “My auntie swears by it.”

This was a new one on Mina but looking at the profusion of etched mirrors on the wall, one she gratefully accepted. The room was so ingrained with dirt that she did not get around to polishing anything until the next day, after leaving the rugs out to air overnight.

She had just started polishing the wooden modesty screens, when a knock on the door startled her. Looking up, she found it was her half-brother, dressed impeccably in red-coated riding attire complete with a crop which he swished against his gleaming top boots. He gave her a quizzical look and sauntered into the room.

“Mina,” he said with a nod. “Dear me, we are industrious this morning.”

She straightened up, ignoring the twinge at her lower back. “Good morning, Lord Faris.”

He looked slightly pained at her formality, taking a seat and crossing his legs. Mina ignored him, reaching for the tin of polish and dabbing the corner of her cloth on it. “What is that on your head?” he asked conversationally when it was clear she was not going to volunteer any conversation.

“A headscarf,” she responded, applying her cloth to the scuffed boarding and buffing it ruthlessly.

“Well, it is singularly unbecoming,” he responded critically.

“It is not intended for embellishment. Besides,” she added dryly. “I would have thought my wearing a head-covering could only be a good thing. To hide my headful of snakes?” she suggested when he looked blank. After a moment she realized he probably did not even remember calling her a gorgon. He had definitely been drunk by that point.

“Am I to take it that in my cups, I so far forgot my manners as to address you as Medusa?” he asked a little sheepishly when she turned her attentions back to her polishing.

“Take it however you like.” Mina shrugged, and he fell to silent contemplation of the handle of his whip. Mina dragged a couple of chairs out so she could get better access to the carved wooden divider which separated the seating areas. It probably needed re-staining, she thought, examining the scuffed panels along the bottom.

“I wish you would sit a while,” he said plaintively. “You’re hardly making things easy for me.”

“Oh, am I not?” Mina turned to look at him a moment impassively. “I expect you have a whole household of people whose job it is to make things easy for you, my lord. But you see, I am not one of them.” Deciding to give the abused wood the benefit of the doubt, she knelt down and slathered some polish onto its dull surfaces.

“I suppose I deserved that,” he mused. “So, Nye has turned you into his scullery maid, I see. Vengeful devil, isn’t he? By the by, what did he say when you told him of our connection?” He gave her a look of amused, idle curiosity. “I’m simply dying to know.”

“Why on earth would I tell him?” Mina retorted, not bothering to correct him on the duties of a scullery maid. “He has reason enough to resent me, without that added insult to injury.”

Now she had shocked him. He stared at her. “You didn’t tell him?” he said incredulously, setting down his whip and leaning forward in his seat.

“Why should I?” she asked in clipped tones, turning her back resolutely