Chapter Four
With the dishes all stacked neatly in the scullery out of sight, Pamela concentrated on making tea for His Lordship, who had disposed himself on the settle beside the large hearth where she baked her bread.
She poured the boiling water into the teapot and waited the requisite number of minutes.
His Lordship, gazing into the fire, clearly deep in his own thoughts, looked a little sad. Or was that just her imagination?
Why on earth had he wanted to take tea in the kitchen?
It felt strange. Almost scandalous.
Of course it was scandalous. Single women didn’t entertain single men like this. Be honest. Dinner had been scandalous.
But then she wasn’t a ‘single’ woman, was she? While she might never have been married, she used a married woman’s title and she wasn’t exactly an innocent. If she had been, she might have seriously considered her mother’s suggestion that she marry.
But she’d foolishly let her heart rule her head, let passion overcome good sense and given herself to the man she had expected to marry, Consequently, there was no point thinking about making any kind of marriage, let alone a good one. And besides she was perfectly happy as a cook.
On the other hand, she was nobody’s fool and she was beginning to wonder if His Lordship had some sort of ulterior motive for insisting she eat dinner with him, then inviting himself to tea in her kitchen. Unless he was as lonely as he looked at this moment.
How could a man in his position be lonely?
She poured the tea and took it over. He glanced up with a faint smile. ‘Thank you.’
He patted the seat beside him. ‘Please, make yourself comfortable.’
Sit beside him? ‘I—’
‘I do not bite, Mrs Lamb.’
She winced. Now he sounded offended. ‘Very well.’ She fetched her cup and sat down making very sure to leave a few inches of space between them. The settle was certainly a good deal more comfortable than the bench at the table.
He stretched out his legs. ‘This reminds me of my youth. We always sat around the hearth and had tea on cold days.’
‘Did you toast bread over the fire?’ she asked. ‘I love hot bread toasted on one side with the butter melting into it on the other.’
He grinned boyishly. ‘Me, too. Nothing tastes like bread you have toasted yourself.’
‘I was never allowed to hold the toasting fork. Father said it was too dangerous.’
‘Oh, I was official toaster in our home. Mother said I made a better job of it than Father. I had more patience. He always held the bread too close to the flames, trying to hurry it along.’
She grimaced. ‘Burned edges.’
‘Exactly.’
They both laughed and sipped their tea in a comfortable silence.
‘Thank you again for a wonderful meal,’ he said. ‘And for granting me your company. I don’t know when I have enjoyed an evening more.’
She looked at him askance. ‘More than your parties with all your guests? I find that hard to believe.’
A thoughtful expression crossed his face. ‘You are right.’
A little pang of disappointment took her aback.
‘I do enjoy my guests,’ he said. ‘I suppose what I am trying to say is that I enjoyed this evening in an equal but different way.’
Indeed, it must be very different. His party had been a hubbub of laughter and excitement. Even she could see that from her brief glance through the door. But it was kind of him to say he had enjoyed this evening. ‘I have had a very pleasant time also, though I really do not think it is something we should repeat, since it is not really appropriate.’ There, she had said it. Much as she hadn’t wanted to, it was the right thing to do. She didn’t want him getting any false notions, thinking she was fast, or available, or something. Just thinking about it made her feel hot.
‘There won’t be much opportunity,’ he said with a chill in his voice. ‘I will be heading off to London in the morning.’
Had she made him angry? If so, it was for the best.
‘To make arrangements for your next party, I suppose,’ she said. ‘To pluck more chickens.’
He glared at her. ‘Indeed.’ He got to his feet. ‘I will bid you goodnight, Mrs Lamb.’ He bowed, put his cup on the table and left.
She sighed. Why could she not keep her thoughts to herself? They had enjoyed a perfectly respectable dinner and then she had ruined it. No doubt he was regretting giving her a job and would be looking for a replacement.
No. It had been the right thing to say. To remind herself of his true colours. To stop herself from falling for his charm.
Because falling for his charm would be a very easy, and a very stupid, thing to do.
She took the tea cups through to the pantry. Should she do the dishes before bed or leave them until morning?
If His Lordship was off to London after breakfast, she would be here all alone. And she would need to be up early in the morning to ensure he had breakfast before he departed. Besides, it would give her something to do tomorrow.
The dishes could wait.
She picked turning down the lamps, picked up her candlestick and headed for bed.
His Lordship had indeed headed out for London early in the morning. Pamela surveyed the breakfast she had prepared. No plates or utensils had been used. He had seemingly taken a couple of bread rolls and departed.
She went to the buffet and helped herself to scrambled eggs and bacon. She might as well enjoy the fruits of her labour, even if he had not.
She should not have bothered with the eggs. He had told her he wanted very little prepared in the mornings.
A rap on the kitchen door startled her.
Who could that be?
She went to the door to find one of the shopkeepers from the village. ‘Good morning, missus,’ he said doffing his cap. ‘Dobbs at your service. Dobbs Greengrocers.’
She eyed the box clutched in his arms. ‘I didn’t order anything.’
‘Came by way of His Lordship,’ the man said.
‘You better come in.’
He put the box on the table. ‘Will there be anything else you will be needing?’ he asked, glancing around.
She thanked heavens she had got the kitchen cleaned up from last night’s dinner. Village gossip was notoriously cruel. Any sign that the new cook wasn’t up to scratch would be reported immediately.
‘Not at the moment, thank you.’
‘You only has to send word, missus, and I’ll do my best to accommodate. His Lordship said as how you wanted to make preserves. Took a few days to get them oranges, but I found them, so I did.’
‘Oranges!’ Her heart gave a little jump.
She could scarcely believe he had been so thoughtful.
It was three weeks since Pamela had arrived at Rake Hall, or Rakehell’s Hall as she learn that the locals called it. The arrival and departure of the London servants, the master of the house, and his guests twice a week had become routine.
She had become acquainted with the members of the London household and they now treated her as one of their own.
She had not dined with His Lordship again, though she had served him and Monsieur Phillippe dinner in the drawing room twice since that first evening.
She glanced at the kitchen clock as it struck four. At any moment, she would hear carriages on the drive and the house would be full again. Today she had made a suet pudding with beef and kidneys and all kinds of vegetables as well as fresh bread and a treacle tart for dessert.
Albert loved her sweet desserts, as did most of the others, and Dart spared no expense to keep his household happy. Lord Dart was unusually solicitous about the welfare of his servants, she had noticed. And they were all devoted to him. Never a complaint or a cross word had she heard from any of them. Was that his way of ensuring they kept his secrets?
The sound of horses and wheels on gravel wafted through the window. She checked her cap and apron. All neat and tidy. Not that His Lordship ever noticed her appearance, since he entered the house by the front door. She made her way outside into the stable courtyard to greet the arrivals.
‘My dear Mrs Lamb,’ Albert said. He was always the first to step down. ‘You are looking well.’ He, on the other hand, was looking anxious.
‘Is something wrong?’
‘Betsy took off this morning. She said her ma was sick and she had to go tend to her. Then Giles twisted his ankle and had to be left behind. So I’m short-handed. We can manage without one, but two will be difficult. I’ll have to leave one of the tables empty. It would have to be Betsy. She’s always very popular with the punters.’
The other servants were climbing out of the carriages and heading into the house.
‘Now what?’ Albert said, glancing behind him. ‘Lord have mercy. Meg, what the devil is wrong with you?’
Meg was bent double, her hand pressed to her stomach with one of the other girls hanging over her.
‘It’s her monthlies,’ the other girl said. ‘Always takes her bad.’
‘Shut your mouth, Sukey,’ Meg said. ‘I’ll be fine. I just got rattled about in that there box on wheels.’
Albert looked grim. ‘Hurry along then. Lots to do before dinner. Sukey, you will have to take on Betsy’s work.’
The girl, Sukey, looked back over her shoulder from where she was bent over Meg. ‘And this ’un’s, too, I should ’spect.’ She didn’t sound happy. ‘I’ll do me best, Albert, but you should’ve brought another girl.’
‘’Ow could I get another girl, when I didn’t know I was going to be missing one? I ain’t a bloody mind-reader.’
‘Can’t I help?’ Pamela said, feeling sorry for him and for Sukey. Over the past few weeks she had learned that His Lordship was a stickler for everything being just so for his guests and the staff never wanted to let him down. They really cared about his good opinion.
Albert blinked. ‘You’ve got your own work to take care of, Mrs Lamb.’
‘My work is all done. Everything is prepared. I can do nothing more until after you have eaten and, even then, the cleaning up can easily be left until tomorrow.’
Sukey left Meg, who, arms wrapped around her waist, plodded her way up the steps into the house, and came back to Albert. ‘I can manage the extra rooms, Albert, truly I can, but why not let her help at the tables tonight. The punters will like a new face to flirt wiv, you know they will. You know how His Lordship hates an empty table.’
This last apparently clinched the matter for Albert. ‘All right, but you will have to help Mrs Lamb dress. Hopefully you can find a good costume.’
The parties at Rake Hall were always masquerades.
‘Ooh, perfect,’ Sukey said. ‘You and me will have a quick bite, Mrs Lamb, then I’ll take you up to the dressing room.’ Sukey put her arm through Pamela’s and they walked inside. ‘I am sure we have something to fit.’
‘Teach her how to deal the cards, too, Sukey.’ Albert called after them.
Pamela felt a smidgeon of doubt, a slight sinking feeling in her stomach. She had never attended a masquerade. Father hadn’t thought them at all proper for a young lady. But then, she wasn’t a young lady any more. Nor was she ‘attending’. She would be safely behind a card table.
Damian glanced around the ballroom. Everything was as it should be. Guests floating around in masks and outlandish costumes, this week’s theme was set in Versailles under Louis XIV, the Sun King. The tables buzzed with the rattle of dice boxes, the chink of tokens and coins, and the cries of winners and losers. Masquerades were always popular among the ton. For some reason they liked dressing up. As usual, he wore a mask as a nod to the event, but kept to his usual black evening coat. It made it easier for his guests to find him, should they have need.
One of the tables seemed particularly crowded. A cheer went up and he strolled over to see what was holding his guests’ interest.
The woman dealing cards wore an elaborate grey powdered wig, a gold mask that covered her face from her forehead to her lower cheeks and a gown of gold tissue that skimmed the rise of her breasts. She shimmered under the light of the chandelier above her head.
Her hands handled the cards with a graceful elegance and skill he had never seen among any of his ladies. Her smile, a mysterious curve of full lips, emphasised by the small black spot at their corner, seemed to hold the gentlemen at the table completely enthralled as she encouraged them to risk their chips.
Vingt-et-un was always one of the most profitable games and, judging by the chips at her elbow and the growing pile of vowels, tonight would be even better than usual.
As she glanced up and the lovely grey eyes regarded him briefly, the breath left his chest in a rush. What the devil was Mrs Lamb doing dealing cards?
He felt a strong urge to haul her out of the room by her arm and demand an explanation. He clenched his hands at his sides. To do anything so rash would invite unwanted comment.
Her eyes widened as if she sensed his anger, then she smiled at him and her eyes twinkled with mischief. Devil take the woman, she was enjoying herself.
And why would he feel anger when she had played right into his hands? What did it matter that every red-blooded male in the room was ogling her with lascivious interest, when he had now started her down the path to ignominy?
It could not have worked better than if he had planned it.
He smiled back, bowed slightly and moved on. Phillippe, dressed as the Sun King himself, sidled up to him. ‘Your cook is making l’impression grande,’ he said softly.
‘You knew she was here and didn’t think to say anything?’ He tamped down his temper once again. What the hell was the matter with him?
Phillippe shrugged. ‘The staff is in your care. I assumed it was by your orders.’
Of course he should have known. Albert was the one who should have informed him. Well, he knew now and there was no more to be said about it. It would be many more hours before tonight was over, and a plan began to form for how he might use the time to his advantage.
As the evening wore on, Damian noticed that although the crowd around Mrs Lamb’s table ebbed and flowed somewhat, it was always the busiest. It was the younger crowd who seemed to be drawn into her orbit. For the most part these young men were harmless, though not above sowing their wild oats in any available pasture.
He drew closer. He was surprised at how comfortable Mrs Lamb looked in her new role as she deftly dealt a hand to those sitting at the table. A king of hearts landed face up in front of her.
The men around her groaned at the sight of the royal card.
‘Your bets, please, gentlemen,’ she said calmly.
‘How about a kiss for luck?’ the lad on her right said.
Damian frowned, ready to step in if this sort of loose talk made her uncomfortable.
Mrs Lamb laughed lightly. ‘How about you make your wager, or give up your place to a gentleman who will, Lord James? You know full well I do not play favourites.’ Her tone was friendly, but firm.
Lord James grinned good-naturedly. ‘It was worth a try.’ He pushed forward a pile of chips representing a guinea.
Clearly Mrs Lamb was not in need of assistance.
She glanced around the table, ensuring all bets were placed, then dealt the next card with a graceful turn of her wrist. She paused for a moment with a little dramatic flair that made Damian want to chuckle, then put her own card down with a tiny snap in the silence of bated breath. ‘Bank pays twenty-one.’
Which meant the bank paid no one. She gathered up the chips.
‘You have the most devilish luck, Mrs Lamb,’ one of the fellows said.
Mrs Lamb’s steady grey gaze rested on his face. ‘Would you like me to call for a fresh deck?’ she asked sweetly.
‘Hey!’ Lord James said. ‘No need for that, Smythe. Mrs Lamb runs a straight-up game. Besides, that was a fresh pack.’
Smythe looked embarrassed. ‘Didn’t mean anything. Just saying Mrs Lamb’s luck is in and mine is out.’
‘Idiot,’ someone in the crowd said and there was general laughter, including from Smythe.
All was well here. Better than well. It seemed Mrs Lamb had a real talent for keeping the young puppies in order. He moved on to check on the other tables.
After a while, he signalled to Albert that it was time to start the dancing. The croupiers needed a break. He needed to collect up some of the winnings and the ladies who were guests would not be happy if gambling was the only thing on offer.
He’d learned early that if he wanted to keep the men spending their money, he had to keep their lady friends suitably entertained.
Albert moved from table to table, helping each croupier wrap up her game and clear the winnings from each station. It was always a risky time, though unlike the hells where he had learned his craft, there were no ruffians ready to spot the slightest weakness and steal the proceeds.
Each of his guests was selected by him personally. They would deem it dishonourable to steal anything, or at least dishonourable to be caught stealing anything. He smiled grimly.
When Albert reached Mrs Lamb’s table, some of the men complained good-naturedly about ruining their luck. Albert jollied them along and they drifted away. Mrs Lamb stood up and stretched her back, chatting with Sukey who had clearly taken her under her wing.
The footmen began moving the tables to the edges of the room, clearing a space in the centre as the two women left arm in arm for the room set aside for the staff to rest.
Leaving Pip in charge, Damian accompanied Albert back to the safe in his study. He put all the notes and coins in the safe, apart from a number of coins to act as a float when the gambling started again later, and locked the door.
‘Mrs Lamb seemed to be doing very well,’ he remarked mildly. ‘I was surprised to see her working tonight.’
It must not have been said as mildly as he intended because Albert started and turned red. ‘We were short two girls, My Lord. I hope that was all right.’
It was better than all right. Wasn’t it?
‘Of course. She seems very popular with the gentlemen. How is it that we were missing two girls?’
‘As you know, Your Lordship, since you yourself gave her permission, Betsy went to visit her old mum. Then Meg went and took a bad turn on the way down here. I had to do something.’
He could have removed one of the tables. But that would have been less than satisfactory to his guests. Not to mention considerably reduce his profits since only a finite number of gamblers could sit at each table at one time.
‘Besides,’ Albert continued, ‘she must have seen it was a problem because she offered.’
Now that was interesting.
He nodded. ‘She seemed to take to it very well.’
‘Like a duck to water,’ Albert said. ‘She said she had played cards with her pa. Seems to know all the rules. I watched her for a while just to be sure.’
‘Very good. But please inform me of any changes to the staff in future, would you, Albert?’
‘Of course, My Lord.’
The sounds of the orchestra in full swing wafted along the corridor as they made their way back. As usual, he stopped to speak to the staff where they were resting. The room had once been known as the music room, but he had filled it with comfortable sofas and chairs and there was lemonade to drink if they wished.
‘Good job, everyone,’ he said, giving them a broad grin. ‘The night is going very well indeed. I look for the second half to be as good as the first.’
There were nods and smiles all around. They received a bonus based on the night’s takings, so they were always cheered to hear things were going well.
He wandered the room, speaking to this one and that as he went until he arrived beside Mrs Lamb, seated with Sukey on a sofa. Sukey got up to let him sit down.
Mrs Lamb had removed her mask, but she still looked remarkably stunning in her old-fashioned costume. ‘Thank you for coming to our aid,’ he said.
‘Oh, it was no trouble. I am enjoying myself.’
‘Are you now?’
‘I am. I must say I was glad of the mask. Although, I think...’
She hesitated.
He gave her an encouraging smile. ‘You think?’
‘Well...it is possible that I recognised a couple of people among the guests. I would not want them to recognise me.’
‘People you have met at the houses of your other employers?’ he asked, knowing full well that was not what she meant.
Her full lips tightened slightly. ‘Not exactly. People I knew before I became a cook.’
For someone living a lie, she wasn’t very good at concealing things.
‘Do you think they will recognise you?’
She sighed and shook her head. ‘If they haven’t recognised me by now, I doubt they will. It was a long time since I met them.’
He rose and clapped his hands. ‘Ladies.’
All heads turned in his direction.
‘There are quite a number of unaccompanied gentlemen here this evening if you have a mind to dance.’
There were smiles of enthusiasm. Dancing with the guests would mean generous tips for the girls themselves. ‘Please remember, dancing only. No one is to go upstairs, that area is strictly for our guests.’
If his lady croupiers started going upstairs with gentlemen guests to earn money, then his perfectly respectable card parties would become something else. A bawdy house. Something that would leave him open to criminal prosecution.
He glanced down at Mrs Lamb. ‘You need not dance if you do not wish to.’
‘Oh, come on, Pammy,’ Sukey said. ‘Half the men in that room was eying you up...they will be tripping over themselves to get a dance.’
Pammy looked a shade doubtful, then smiled. ‘Why not? In for a penny, in for a pound.’
Much as he imagined his father had said when her father had seduced him into gambling away his fortune.
‘That’s the way,’ Sukey said. And off the ladies went.
Damian followed them with every intention of keeping an eye on Mrs Lamb. He did not want her scared off by some lustful lout or, worse yet, inadvertently revealing her true identity. At least not yet.
He wanted everything to go along at his pace.