Lord of Darkness (Maiden Lane #5)(8)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

Megs bit her lip, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. Should she rub against his leg under the table? But his profile was so very … grave. It seemed a bit like goosing the Archbishop of Canterbury.

And then she caught sight of breakfast and her dismal seduction attempt abruptly fled her mind.

Megs squinted at the plate in the middle of the table. It held a few burned fragments of toast and some hard-boiled eggs. She scanned the room but saw no other signs of nourishment.

“Would you care for some toast?” Sarah murmured across from her.

“Oh, thank you.” Megs widened her eyes in question at her.

“It appears the cook did a runner, as Oliver would say.” Sarah shrugged infinitesimally as she pushed the plate over. “I believe that Moulder is searching for another teacup for the tea right now, but in the meantime, do feel free to have a sip of mine.”

“Er …” Megs was saved from having to reply by the dining room door being flung open.

“My dears!” Great-Aunt Elvina swept into the room. “You’ll not credit the ghastly room I slept in last night. Her Grace was quite overcome by the dust and spent the night wheezing horribly.”

Godric had risen at Great-Aunt Elvina’s entrance and now he cleared his throat. “Her Grace?”

A small but very rotund fawn pug waddled into the room, glanced perfunctorily at Great-Aunt Elvina, and plopped down onto the rug, rolling immediately to her side. She lay there, panting pathetically, her distended belly rising and falling.

Her Grace’s flair for the dramatic was almost as well honed as her mistress’s.

“This is Her Grace,” Megs hurried to explain to her husband, adding perhaps unnecessarily, “She’s in an interesting way.”

“Indeed,” Godric murmured. “Is the … er … Her Grace quite well? She looks rather worried.”

“Pugs always look worried,” Great-Aunt Elvina pronounced loudly. Her ability to hear came and went with disconcerting irregularity. “She could do with a dish of warm milk with perhaps a spoonful of sherry in it.”

Godric blinked. “Ah … I do apologize, but I don’t believe we have any milk on the premises. As for the sherry …”

“None o’ that neither,” Moulder said with dour satisfaction as he entered the room behind Great-Aunt Elvina. In his arms he carried an array of mismatched teacups.

“Quite,” Godric murmured. “Perhaps if I’d been informed in advance of your arrival …”

“Oh, no need to apologize,” Megs said quickly.

He turned and narrowed his eyes at her. This close she could see the small lines fanning from the corners of his eyes in an altogether alluring way, which made no sense because why would crow’s-feet be alluring?

Megs shook herself mentally and continued. “After all, your house hasn’t had a feminine hand managing it in quite some time. I expect once we employ a new cook and some scullery maids—”

“And a housekeeper and upstairs maids,” Sarah put in.

“Not to mention some footmen,” Great-Aunt Elvina muttered. “Big, strong ones.”

“Well, we did bring Oliver and Johnny and your two footmen,” Megs pointed out.

“They can’t be expected to do all the heavy lifting required to clean this place,” Great-Aunt Elvina said with a frown. “Have you seen the upper floors?”

“Er …” Megs hadn’t in fact explored the upper floors, but if the condition of the rooms they’d slept in last night were any indication … “Best we hire at least half a dozen strapping lads.”

“I doubt I’ll need a veritable army to run Saint House,” her husband said in a dry tone, “especially after you all leave, which will, I’m sure, be soon.”

“What?” barked Great-Aunt Elvina, cupping her hand behind her ear.

Megs held up a finger to interrupt because a thought had occurred to her. She addressed Moulder. “Surely you have some help running the house?”

“There was a couple o’ strong lads and some maids, but they left awhile back, one by one, like, and we just never hired others.” Moulder cast his eyes up as if to address the spiders lurking in the cobwebs dangling from the ceiling. “Did have a girl name o’ Tilly, m’lady, but she got in the family way ’bout a month back—not my fault.”

All eyes swung toward Godric.

He raised his brows in what looked like mild exasperation. “Nor mine.”

Thank goodness. Megs returned her gaze to Moulder, very aware of her husband glowering at her shoulder.

The butler shrugged. “Tilly up and left not long after. Think she was chasin’ the butcher’s apprentice. Maybe he was the father. Or it might’ve been the tinker what used to come ’round the kitchen door.”

For a moment there was silence as they all contemplated the mystery of Tilly’s baby’s paternity.

Then Godric cleared his throat. “How long, exactly, were you planning on staying in London, Margaret?”

Megs smiled brilliantly, even though she’d never really liked her full name—especially when it was drawled in a gravelly voice that seemed somehow ominous—for she really didn’t want to answer the question. “Oh, I don’t like to make plans. It’s so much more fun to simply let matters take their own course, don’t you think?”

“Actually I don’t—”

Good Lord, the man was persistent! She turned hastily to Moulder. “Then you’ve been managing the house all by yourself?”

Moulder’s great shaggy brows knit, causing a myriad of wrinkles to form in his forehead and around his hangdog eyes. He was the very picture of martyrdom. “I have, m’lady. You have no idea the work—the terrible job ’tis!—to keep up a house such as this. Why, me health is much the worse for it.”

Godric muttered something, the only words of which Megs caught were “laying it on thick.”

She ignored her husband. “I really must thank you, Moulder, for taking care of Mr. St. John so loyally, despite the toil involved.”

Moulder blushed. “Aw, it weren’t nothin’, m’lady.”

Godric snorted loudly.

Megs hastily said, “Yes, well, I’m sure now that I’m in residence, we’ll have the house in order in no time.”

“And exactly how long will it take to—” Godric began.

“Oh, look at the time!” Megs said, squinting at a small clock on the fireplace mantel. It was hard to tell if it still ran, but no matter. “We must be going or we’ll be late to the meeting of the Ladies’ Syndicate for the Benefit of the Home for Unfortunate Infants and Foundling Children.”