Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,219

including Lord Julius.”

Bess gasped and hurried to the window to push the ivory sheers aside. The hills. The trees. Everything appeared to be encased in glass. The rain and snow mix had turned to deadly ice overnight. How had she not thought to check the weather earlier?

“No-no-no.” Bess flapped her hands against her thighs in frustration. “Why?”

Her cousin joined her at the window. “It’s a marvelous sight, is it not? Marvelous and treacherous.” The descriptions could apply to Lord Julius as easily as the landscape.

“Gemma, he was supposed to leave today. What are we going to do?”

“You can start by taking a breath before you faint.”

“I’m too level-headed to faint,” she grumbled. Her body chose to betray her at the exact moment. Her head spun and she swayed into the window.

Gemma put her arm around her shoulders, smiling. “I can see you are perfectly balanced.”

Julius waited a bloody long time for a servant to respond to the bell pull. It took even longer for the boy to return with his clothes. After dressing in haste, Julius scrounged up toothpowder from the late Mr. Price’s belongings to prepare for an audience with Lady Hadley.

Elisabeth? Bess? Yes, she prefers Bess.

Her name was the total sum of what he knew about her.

Wincing, he rubbed the space between his brows where an ache lingered. It wasn’t like him to fall into bed with a woman upon their first meeting. Wooing a lady was half the fun and made the reward sweeter in the end. He also preferred remembering the deed. Had Price’s ale always been so potent?

“Upon my word,” Julius muttered, “never again.”

Not that his oath changed the situation. He’d been careless last night, and given Bess’s poor opinion of him this morning, he didn’t know how to proceed.

Had he truly promised marriage before they were intimate, knowing he had no intention of honoring his word? If so, the ale he drank did more than addle his brain. It had turned him into a despicable cur, a man he didn’t recognize.

His reputation for being a hellion hadn’t been earned from being reckless with another’s heart. He craved the rush of adventure and satisfied it with racing. His mother believed the hunger was in his blood, inherited from her Dane ancestors. Everyone in his family accepted this explanation without question, including Julius. He couldn’t rid himself of the hunger anymore than he could lob off his own arm or leg.

Despite his lack of clarity on what had occurred overnight, he went in search of the lady. His honor as a gentleman was at stake. If their liaison resulted in a child, he could never deny his flesh and blood. He and Bess must reach an understanding—in whatever form she deemed appropriate—before he returned to Everly Manor.

He didn’t encounter a single servant on the upper level to request an audience with the lady, nor was a soul in sight below stairs. It was the oddest of circumstances. Deducing the help was congregating in the kitchens, he followed the scent of bacon and drew up short in the doorway. “Lady Hadley, what in the devil are you doing?”

The three women cried out in surprise. More aptly, two women and one girl. The servant frying bacon wasn’t old enough to hold a position above scullery maid, and Bess appeared to have taken over her duties.

When the occupants simply gaped, he entered the warm kitchen. The delicious fragrance of sweet bread baking in the oven and salty meat wrapped him in a comforting embrace.

“Where is the cook?” he asked. “Has something happened to her?”

The elder servant, a willowy young woman with high cheekbones and meticulously neat appearance, recovered from the shock of his sudden appearance. She bobbed a curtsey. “The weather has delayed her, my lord.”

“I see.” Her explanation did little to clear his confusion. Why was the cook away from Davensworth Cottage, and how had Bess been recruited to wash dishes? “And the other servants, Lady Hadley? Have they fallen ill?”

Bess’s mouth thinned. She lowered the dish she was holding into the washbasin and dried her hands on her apron. “I will speak with Lord Julius privately, Quinn. If you will continue to assist Anne, I would be grateful.”

“Yes, my lady.” The young woman moved behind Bess to release the apron ties. “I am pleased to be useful.”

“You are a godsend.” Bess’s smile was soft when she spoke to the servant. All traces of kindness were replaced with cool detachment when she looked at Julius. “Let’s retire to