“It’s fantastic! There’s a feast here fit for a king.” He lifted a slice of meat, the juice dripping from it, and plopped it in his mouth.
Since he’d had no breakfast, Aidan quickly joined him. It was an amazing meal. He couldn’t remember the last time his table had been set correctly. Under the dish covers were slices of tender mutton, peas, and boiled potatoes. But what had really excited Hugh was the fresh bread.
He bit into it and pretended to faint. “’Tis better than my mother’s.”
“You had better not let her hear you say that,” Deacon responded. He’d been hanging back, a victim of his own suspicious nature, but now he wandered closer. He lifted the covers on his own plate—and sat down.
The three men made a good meal. But there wasn’t any sign of Anne.
Norval crept in when they were about finished. “May I remove the dishes, my lord?” At Aidan’s assent, he docilely went around the table, clearing dishes. His hair was even combed.
Aidan stared, dumbfounded.
“How did she do it?” Hugh asked the question Aidan wanted answered.
“She’s new,” Deacon replied impatiently, his mouth full. “He wants to please a new mistress. Servants behave in that manner.”
“But a clean Norval is something I’d never thought to see before I died,” Hugh countered.
“I think I will find out the truth,” Aidan answered, rising from his chair.
“Are you going to go ask Norval?” Deacon said.
“No, I’m going to go find Anne.”
Deacon muttered something unintelligible, but Aidan didn’t care to listen. Anne’s success had piqued his curiosity. Since when did London debutantes know the intricacies of house cleaning?
He bounded up the stairs taking them two at a time. A torch lit the hallway. He went to the guest room. She wasn’t there, but he did notice the bed had been made with clean sheets. Cobwebs, dust, and grime had disappeared as if they had never existed.
Not bothering with the other rooms, Aidan walked straight to his. He opened the door.
His room had never been kept as poorly as the rest of the house, but there were obvious signs of cleaning here too. Dust had been swept away and wood polished with oil.
Two candles gave the room a soft light and there was the smell of cloves in the air. His bath waited, warming in front of the fire in the hearth. His soap was dry and his towel hung exactly where he liked it. But there was no sign of Anne.
Until he turned to the bed.
She lay there, fully dressed and fast asleep, her braid a silky band across the sable spread. Dark circles marred the tender skin beneath her eyes. Her hands were roughened red from hard work.
Guilt pricked his conscience. He walked over to her. “Anne?”
She didn’t move.
He understood how hard she slept. There had been days at Kelwin when he’d dragged himself up the stairs and fallen on his bed, unable to have taken another step even to undress himself.
Funny, but he’d never noticed the graceful line of her neck before…and the faint birthmark located right under the curve of her jaw. He’d found her attractive from the beginning. Her stormy eyes were her most spectacular feature and she did have long legs…but now he saw other things, refinements, the details one perceived only after having lived with another for a while.
He removed her shoes from her feet. She’d ruined the heel of her stockings. There was a huge hole there. He wondered what she’d done. He was also going to have to get her sturdier shoes. Kid slippers were fine for tapping toes to a musical beat at some ball or spending a day in idle shopping, but not suitable for highland life.
Stunned by the direction of his thoughts, Aidan dropped the shoes. They landed on the floor, one thud followed by another. He backed away. He was not going to buy shoes for Anne. Buying good sturdy shoes for a woman was a more personal act than purchasing perfume or jewelry or even a closet of silky small clothes.
When you bought practical shoes for a woman, she was your wife!
He headed for the door, needing to put distance between himself and Anne. Good food and cleanliness had sparked these thoughts, he assured himself. He would never have had them otherwise. Besides, every bachelor had weak moments when his belly was full.
Deacon met him in the hall. “I discovered what happened, Tiebauld,” he announced pompously. “The English lass didn’t do this all herself. She hired Mrs. MacEwan