Chapter 7 #4
Tamsin nodded. She was nothing if not a quick study.
“You there. Want a penny?”
The lad walking by stopped and nodded.
“Stand here and watch my horses.”
The lad looked at Tamsin, as clearly that was her job, but she pointed to the horses. “Do as the gentleman says, now. Hop to it,” she ordered.
The boy went to stand beside the post, and Kildare pulled Tamsin aside. “You have a quarter hour,” he said quietly. Then more loudly, “And another thing!”
“What are you doing?”
“Pretending to take you to task,” he muttered, before bellowing, “I simply won’t have it!”
She raised a brow. “Am I about to be spanked?”
His eyes darkened, making them look even softer than before.
She immediately regretted teasing him. “Don’t tempt me,” he said, and her breath caught in her throat.
She wanted his hands on her body. She swallowed down the surge of lust as he continued speaking.
“Go downstairs”—he pointed to a set of steps leading to the ground floor—“and ask for a mug of tea”—he raised his voice for the benefit of anyone nearby—“are you listening to me, boy?” His voice dropped again.
“Find a way to slip something into the conversation about chimney sweeps.” He looked up and around. “Understand?” he barked.
“Yes.”
“Understand?” he yelled.
“Yes, sir.”
Kildare whirled away from her and started up the front steps even as a butler opened the door for him.
She heard him asking if Miss Wetherbee was at home.
She had no idea who Miss Wetherbee was, but she didn’t like the idea of Kildare teasing and laughing with her for a quarter hour.
She climbed down the other set of steps and tapped on the door.
“He’s here to help Joanna and Charlie,” she reminded herself. “He’s not here for Miss Wetherbee.”
The door opened and a young woman with a blue dress and a white apron and cap said, “Yes?”
“Mr. Kildare is calling on Miss Wetherbee. He said I could ask for a cup of tea.”
The maid looked past Tamsin to the coach standing on the street. “Of course. Come in.”
Tamsin followed her inside, stepping aside to avoid a footman carrying a tray of glasses.
The ground floor was clean and white. The floors had been swept, no cobwebs swayed in the corners, and the scent of baking bread made Tamsin’s stomach rumble.
She stepped into the kitchen where a woman held a large spoon and stirred a pot.
The cook looked up then back at her pot. “Who’s this then?”
“Tiger for one of the callers,” the maid said, going to a stack of plain teacups and fixing Tamsin tea.
She handed the cup to Tamsin then put two pieces of bread and a small bowl of jam in front of her as well.
Tamsin immediately used a knife to cover the bread in jam and ate both pieces in three bites.
When she looked up, the cook was staring at her.
“Sorry,” Tamsin said. “No time to eat this morning.”
“Give the lad some of that mutton,” the cook said.
“Yes, Mrs. Tire.”
The kitchen maid fixed Tamsin another plate with mutton and two more pieces of bread. She put another couple spoonfuls of jam in the little bowl and gave the lot of it to Tamsin. Tamsin forced herself to eat slowly this time.
“Growing lad like you needs to eat,” the cook said. “Who’s your employer?”
“Mr. Kildare.”
The cook’s brow furrowed. “One of the earl’s sons? I always heard the earl was good to his staff.”
“He is,” Tamsin said. “I overslept. It was my fault.” She had no idea what Kildare’s father was like, but the few times she’d seen him through the Kildares’ windows, he’d seemed a kind man.
He’d always been laughing and smiling. Her gaze strayed to the large hearth that took up almost one wall of the kitchen.
Several pots bubbled as they hung from cast-iron hooks above the low fire.
“Your chimneys are clean,” she said, inwardly wincing at her poor transition to a new topic.
The cook looked at the chimney then back to her pot. “We keep everything clean and tidy here.” She looked up, eyes narrowed. “Aren’t the earl’s chimneys clean?”
“I heard the housekeeper saying some were clogged. She told a broomer to bring his master by with a half dozen or more sweeps to clean all the chimneys, but the boy didn’t return.”
The cook blew out a breath. “Course not. He probably forgot as soon as he walked away, but if your housekeeper knows what’s what, she’ll hire someone quick.
I worked at another house years ago where no one wanted to pay for a sweep.
One night a chimney caught fire and nigh burned the whole house down. ”
“I think she’d hire someone today if she knew a sweep to hire. Who do you use?”
The cook looked at the maid who was drying a stack of bowls. “What was his name?”
“I can’t say, Mrs. Tire. Want I should ask the housekeeper, Mrs. Tire?”
“No, it will come to me. It was something with an H. Horton, maybe, or Howell?”
“I’ll tell our housekeeper,” Tamsin said. She didn’t care who swept their chimneys if it wasn’t Snoozer. She’d finished her plate by then. “I should get back to the horses. Thank you for the food.”
“Wake up on time tomorrow,” the cook admonished.
“I will.” Tamsin tipped her hat as she’d seen coachmen and grooms do. “Thank you.”
She sprinted up the steps then went to stand by the curricle.
The hired lad stayed in his position at the post, since he hadn’t been paid yet.
That was fine with Tamsin. A crisp breeze swept along the street, and she smelled rain on it.
The curricle had a hood that could be pulled up, but that wouldn’t help her, as she would be sitting behind it in the open air.
She wondered if she should pull the hood up now—what was that word Kildare had used? Preemptively.
Just then the door opened, and Kildare emerged, his expression annoyed.
He tossed the lad at the post a penny and gestured for Tamsin to untie the reins.
Tamsin was beginning to feel like she worked for the man in truth.
She didn’t particularly like it, but at least she could see he hadn’t enjoyed his time with Miss Wetherbee.
She tossed him the reins once he was in the driver’s seat then jumped up on her platform.
She had barely grasped the seat when the conveyance lurched away.
But instead of continuing along the wide thoroughfare, he turned into a small lane. Then he swiveled to face her. “Well?”
She shook her head. “They use a sweep called Horton or Howell. Not Snoozer.”
“Fine. We’ll make another call closer to St. James’s.” He turned back around and urged the horses on.
They made two more calls. Tamsin was fed at both houses and was feeling quite full by the time they left the last house. It was a glorious sensation. If she’d had any information about Snoozer, she would have been happy.
And if it hadn’t started to rain in earnest. She’d put the curricle’s hood up at the second house and had gotten thoroughly wet as they’d driven to the third.
Now she sat hunched, cold, and miserable on the back platform.
Her entire body was shaking. The curricle slowed, and she looked up and frowned.
They hadn’t stopped in front of another grand house.
They were in a side street behind a row of shops.
He eased the horses under a large tree, shielding them and the conveyance from the worst of the deluge.
“Why have you stopped?” she called over the sound of the rain.
Kildare emerged from the hood, jumped down, and offered his hand.
Tamsin took it without thinking, and he pulled her to her feet, put his hands on her waist, and lifted her down.
Tamsin’s breath caught at the easy way he lifted her and the feel of his hands on her.
Then his arm was around her waist as he ushered her up into the curricle and under the hood.
“Christ, Archer, you’re shaking,” he said as he sat beside her. He pulled a checkered blanket from under the seat and wrapped it around her. It smelled like horses, but she didn’t care.
“I’m f-f-fine.”
“Your mother will have my head if you catch your death of cold.”
“A l-l-little rain w-w-won’t hurt me.”
“This is more than a little rain. Take off that hat and let me see your face. Jesus, you’re as white as a new sail hoisted on the mast.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re shivering. Come here.”
She stared at him as he opened his arms.
“Let me warm you up.”