8. Zeth
Zeth
Waking up in Anna’s enormous house was a dream come true.
Never had I slept in a bed so comfy. Lazily, I stretched my bare body against the clean sheets—so crisp—and rolled over to face the pretty papered wall of ivory with pearl embellishments.
The thick ivory curtains glowed beautifully with the growing spark of a new morning.
The thick blanket felt safe, no wonder Millie wanted so many, but I tossed mine off with a big flourish to slide my legs over the side of the bed.
The air was warm. A servant must have stoked the fire before I woke to make sure I was comfortable.
I wiggled my bare toes in luxury. How splendid.
And even better, my clothes were folded in a stack by the fireplace.
Even from the bed, they looked as crisp as the sheets.
Hand laundered early this morning by someone besides me.
I could get used to this.
I slipped off the bed and padded my way to the fireplace.
Plush carpet squished under my bare heels, followed by smooth hardwood that transitioned to heated tile before the hearth.
My clothes sat on a side table. I admired a stiff pleat in my collar with a finger, and lifted the jacket to see if the mud was cleansed from my new pants, and it was.
I couldn’t help but scoop up the whole pile and hug it close, like a fool.
I buried my nose deep into the cotton to smell how clean it was. Not plain old lye. No, nothing so simple at the Winters estate. My clothes smelled wonderfully like orange essence mixed with starch. Actually, they smelled like money.
Oh yes, I could get very used to this life.
Miss Annabelle Winters—the teacher’s pet, always prim and proper with her nose in the air—had welcomed me, the town washer’s son, to sleep in her house.
She nodded with acceptance to my plans of courting.
And I still couldn’t believe she wanted to go fishing with me today.
She seemed so excited about it as she invited me. She’d practically giggled.
Not wanting to be late, I dressed quickly and visited Millie’s room next to mine.
She was lying peacefully like a doll in that manly nightshirt.
The side table next to her held a glass of water but no more medicine, so she was going to be sleeping for a while.
I backed out softly and closed her door to avoid disturbing her recovery.
Someone else helped my baby sister. I pondered that for a moment in the quiet upstairs hall. I wasn’t jealous, no. Perhaps a bit relieved? It was a refreshing change, that was for certain. Not a single day passed without feeling the weight of being an older brother and Millie’s sole guardian.
Did the rich understand how good they had it? Servants, separate rooms, and lazy mornings? Fishing on a workday for the simple pleasure of sport. No responsibilities. No worries.
Feeling lighter, I bounced my way down the stairs with both hands in my jacket pockets and a whistle on my lips.
The jaunty tune wasn’t appropriate for mixed company, but the servant standing in the front hall where I landed was a nice-looking chap around my age, and most likely enjoyed a bawdy song when off duty.
He shot me a narrowed gaze from under his dirty blond hair. Then he stiffened his back and uttered, “Good morning, sir.”
Okay, maybe he didn’t enjoy fun at all, but at least he greeted me.
“Fine morning,” I replied with sunshine in my voice. “Has the mistress awoken? We have a date.”
The man’s mouth twitched, but his face remained impartial. He didn’t even look at me. He faced the parlor I used yesterday with Doc Light and waved to that door. “Miss Winters asks that you stay there.”
“Of course. Thank you.” My murmur might have sounded a bit grumpy. I was just waking, that’s all. Nothing to do with how the servant made it sound like I belonged outdoors.
He led me over, so I obeyed and entered, watching the man curiously as he shut me inside, alone.
No matter. I didn’t care what a servant thought of my visit.
Anna wanted to go fishing with me. If all went well, maybe I could give her a courting kiss and propose as early as next week. By summer, that man would work for me.
Straightening my tie and vest, I glanced around at the matching burgundy settees with nice paintings of scenery behind them.
A few tables and shelves were cluttered with clocks and useless figurines.
I picked up the closest, a shepherdess with sheep, and tipped it over to examine the mark.
Huttington, mid-century. Worth a pretty cal.
But not my style. Neither were the statues of foppish men in heels nor the various dogs.
If Anna wasn’t attached to them, maybe I could convince her to sell the knick-knacks.
I could auction them off and invest in land.
A soft knock sounded on the door. Anna. She didn’t make me wait long.
I quickly repositioned the shepherdess on the side table, making sure she sat just so, and turned to the entrance. Today was the day to woo myself into this home permanently. I put on my most charming and beguiling smile.
The doors opened by the same chap, only this time he sent me a not-so-impartial smirk.
Behind him strolled in Amby. My former friend and lover.
I asked him to leave me be, yet here he was visiting Anna the very next day.
His message was clear that we were enemies, but part of me didn’t want to hear it.
That’s why my stomach tightened as I drank in his full head of auburn curls, all wind-tossed.
His lean chest and stomach showed that he ate well but still stayed active.
His deceptively casual jacket and slacks in dark gray with a green, pin-striped vest all looked plain while vomiting wealth.
It was in the details. The ebony buttons. The flattering alterations.
I bit back my anger while Amby’s lively brown eyes glanced around the parlor for Anna before landing upon me in the middle. That’s when his pale face scrunched behind those damn adorable glasses.
Amby nodded at the steward with a “Thank you” and the man shut the doors, closing us together.
My smile soured. “What are you doing here?”
Amby flinched at my harsh tone before glancing away.
His lips narrowed, showing some fire still in his spirit, and his jawline appeared a bit pointed at the sides.
Strong-willed. Tempting to grab. Was he smooth-shaven or rough from a night’s growth?
Fuck, why was I even thinking about him?
I needed to prove myself to Anna and the town.
Whether Amby shaved or not didn’t matter one whit.
That strong jaw turned back to face me and broke the silence, “I see Annabelle didn’t let the dog out this morning.”
A dog? Is that what they all thought of me? “You better watch it, I bite.” I snapped, furious.
“Oh, I’m terrified,” Amby waved his hands in mock fear.
I growled right back, “You should be.”
Pinching my nose allowed me to avoid looking at Amby, but I heard his tsk of annoyance. He flipped my morning into the rubbish, the spoiled brat. He didn’t even cushion his words. He was the one who shouldn’t be here, who shouldn’t be calling me a dog.
I nodded. And nodded. My anxious thoughts all these years were true; he never loved me.
He was never a friend. My chest felt a little odd.
Funny, I didn’t notice how the burgundy color of the settees matched my bleeding heart.
And the carved legs, ending in lion’s paws with sharp claws—those matched the ones Amby hid in his soft touch all those years.
The settee was over a century old, expensive, and far more valuable than me.
I wasn’t born with wealth, and that’s all that matters to the rich, like Amby.
They didn’t do manual labor. They didn’t apprentice in the City as I did, working long hours for years to improve my station.
Wasn’t I better for that? I wasn’t a dog.
I belonged here, not outside. I learned the manners of a proper gentleman, and could act like a gentleman, even if Amby couldn't.
I nodded again and motioned to the damn settee with the grace of a king. “Have a seat. I’ll order tea and biscuits.”
There was a bell on the table, so I rang it sharply, and a moment later the chap at the door entered. I stated my order for refreshments. He had the good training to bow quickly before speeding off to the kitchens, though the quick pace might have been due to my imperious glare.
Amby watched the door close and made a sound I used to hear his father make after something impressed him. I ticked that as a win.
“So kind of you to visit. Did you have a nice ride over?” I drawled, sitting with a false calm that hopefully hid my unease.
I claimed the spot Anna sat in yesterday and crossed my legs with lazy grace.
Leaning back, I looped an arm over the back of the three-person chair while I motioned for Amby to take a seat in the chair facing me.
Amby stubbornly stood firm and tucked his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “What are you doing, Mr. Washer?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Making myself at home.”
Amby glanced around the room. “But this isn’t your home. I wonder if I should let Annabelle know what you’re doing. Of how conniving you’re being.”
“That’s rather rude. Millie sprained her ankle and Anna invited us to stay.” I raked my eyes over him, from his polished shoes to that annoyed twist of lips. “I assure you, the only con here is you, pretending to like women enough to marry one.”
I thoroughly enjoyed how Amby’s mouth opened and closed as if he had a retort but didn’t know how to get it out. His face went red as a tomato too, and my lips tilted with glee at getting the upper hand.
When his awkward arms couldn’t decide between crossing or staying at the sides of his body, pointing that out to him seemed like a fun thing to do. “Stop fidgeting and sit. Tea should arrive soon.”