Authors: Kathryn Caskie
It pleased Jenny that without a smart retort or otherwise roguish gesture, he raised his arm and politely crooked his elbow for her.
As they strolled slowly through the high-cei
l
inged chamber, the sun breaking through the windowpanes to create a chessboard pattern on the floor, Jenny realized she felt perfectly at ease with the wicked viscount.
Odd though, wasn't it? The man goaded her more than any other she'd known. And even though she'd k
is
sed more than a few valets and footmen in her time, only Callum's kiss seemed to have the power to rock her
se
nses.
Bah, no more thinking about kissing and such, she chided herself. Wanton thoughts might tempt wanton actions and she did not want to risk duplicating her
78
mother's pligh
t
—
b
eing left with child with no means of support.
But as Callu
m
folded his left hand protectively over hers, and the side of her breast pressed firmly against his solid upper arm, all she could think about was peeling away his coat and shirt and seeing him naked but for his kil
t
—
t
he way she'd seen him in her dreams of late.
Oh, she had too much of her mother's blood in her. The sort that made a girl desire things she should not.
I
n fact, it would not surprise her in the least to learn that she was part gypsy, or maybe even half French. Now
they
were a passionate lot, weren't they?
The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Of course she was French. That would explain so muc
h
—
h
er fascination with the latest gowns . . . her desire for men ... or at least, one man.
The one walking beside her.
Tiny beads of sweat began to collect like seed pearls along her brow as she tried to think of something, anything, besides Callum ... in his kilt. Blast him. He most likely knew what the sight of his muscular legs did to a woman, and being the rake he certainly was, knew too about the lusty stirrings the vision caused beneath their shifts.
"Why are we pacin' the woman in red?" Callum asked beneath his breath.
"What?" Without realizing it, Jenny had aligned herself parallel with the little man's suspicious lady friend.
"
Oh, her.
I fancied her frock and wanted a better look at it."
But the woman was all too aware of Jenny's scrutiny and now looked back, with a snarled look on her pinched face.
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Was I that obvious?
Jenny turned away from her. She smiled brightly at Callu
m
, and tugged his arm, turning h
i
m to the right.
"But now that I've seen it, I realize it doesn't suit me at all."
Callum lifted a dark brow and looked over his shoulder at the woman, who was not even pretending not to be ogling them.
Of all the raw nerve.
Then, suddenly, a shrill scream pierced the relative peace of the room.
Jenny swung her head around to see an elderly
wo
man holding a long cord in her hand. "My reticule! Someone has taken my reticule!" she wailed, holding the frayed handle up for everyone to see. "You see, it's been cut!"
At once, Jenny looked for the woman in red. She was
s
tanding with one of the gentlemen she'd entered with, looking positively aghast.
Where was the other gentlema
n
—
t
he more effeminate one in foppish dandy's garb? Jenny's gaze sorted through the crowd, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Jenny dropped Callum's arm, hurried to one of the tall front windows, and peered outward.
There, directly on the other side, stood the little man. He lifted his hat and bowed to Jenny in a most mocking manner.
Jenny was sure he was involved. She had to tell so
m
eone. Whirling around, she nearly plowed into Meredith.
"O
h, thank goodness. Look
,
Meredith." Jenny poked
h
er figure at the window. "I think
he
might have done
At her words, a purposeful expression passed over
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Callum's face. As he dashed through the doorway in the direction of Bath Abbey, his muscular legs pumping, an excited thrill shot straight through Jenny's body.
How mortifying! All it took was a slight flick of his kilt and her heart went all to pitter-patters.
Meredith widened her eyes, and turned her head from left to right. "Who are you speaking of, Jenny? I don't see anyone."
"What do you mean?
Him
!"
Jenny followed her own finger with her gaze, but there was nothing there but a smudged windowpane. "But he was just there! A tiny little man, barely taller than Lord Argyll's knee and he was wearing a huge top hat."
Meredith giggled. "Oh, Jenny. You are having me on. And to think I actually believed you for a moment." Then she leaned close to Jenny's ear. "Mustn't play games about
this
though. Everyone is quite shaken by the crime. We have a thief within our fold, you know."
"Of course, you're right." Jenny nodded her head. "Though the stir is rather exciting, isn't it?"
Meredith brought her fingers to her lips and giggled like a girl of six. "I must admit, it
is!"
"Now, now, gels." Lady Letitia clapped her gloved hands, making a sound like clopping draft horse hooves as she walked slowly toward them. "The excitement is over and I for one am thoroughly exhausted from it all. Best be off."
Lady Viola tapped her cane to the floor as she pivoted in a circle. "I daresay, Lord Argyll is missing. Where do you suppose he's gone off to?"
"I think he might have seen the thief, for he went dashing from the establishment with nary a backward
81
glance," Jenny offered. "He might have been after the tiny little man. No bigger than a wee elf, he was."
Lady Letitia looked at her then as if she were mad. 'Well, if his quarry is so small he will have no difficulty catching him up. Still, I am not inclined to wait for him to produc
e
.. . an elf
.
"
She winked at her sister, then with a whirl, she turned her ample form to the door.
"
Besides," she added as they walked, "the constables have no doubt been summoned, and I vow that all will be put to rights in no time at all. This is Bath after all and nothing, but nothing nefarious ever occurs here."
Jenny cast a wayward glance at Meredith. "She's right, nothing ever happens in Bath." Meredith grinned conspiratorially back at her.
As the Featherton ladies departed the Pump Room, and began to board their custom double-wide sedan chair, Jenny chanced a look over her shoulder hoping to catch a glimpse at the woman in red.
Heaven forbid.
She could not believe it. The woman was watching her . .. still. Jenny's eyes widened in her head as the woman dropped her a sloppy curtsy and the gentleman she was with swirled his hand in the air before bowing.
"Who was that?" Meredith asked as she wrapped her arm around Jenny's and led her to the doorway.
"I'm sure I don't know," Jenny said, glancing back once more over her shoulder. She narrowed her gaze at them. "But before the week is through, I intend to find
o
ut."
******************
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Meaning to change out of her day gown, for she did not wish to soil it as she completed her house duties, Jenny made her way below stairs. Before she even reached the last tread, her mother was before her, arms folded crossly over her chest.
"Do you hear that, Jenny? Do you?"
"Do I hear what?" But before the words were even cleanly out of her mouth, she did hear something. Cackling laughter mingled with low male voice
s
—
c
oming from the kitchen.
"Get in there right now and take care of this. I promised Mr. Edgar it weren't going to happen again, and so it shan't. Do you understand me, gel?"
At first, Jenny hadn't a notion what her mother was prattling on about. Everything became clear, however, the moment she reached the kitchen.
Annie.
And at least a full baker's dozen of service staff from all over Bath.
The moment they saw her, the crowd rushed forward, pinning Jenny against the chopping block.
"Hang on now. Hang on!" she shouted. "Please, just give me a moment."
The gaggle of maids, footmen, and even a manservant from the Oliver residence backed away and their requests fell to a mere murmur.
"That's better," Jenny said quietly. "Can I take it you've all come for a pot of tingle crea
m
—
j
ust nod if you have."
As she glanced at their faces, all but the manservant bobbed their heads.
"And you, sir. You haven't come for a pot?"
83
"No," he droned. "I've come for three pots." An amused giggle rose up from the throng.
"I've only got fou
r
—" Jenny had begun when the crowd rushed her again. Elbows toting baskets jabbed from side to side, and small pouches of coins were dangled before her face as the servants each vied for the
t
our remaining pots.
Gads, her mother was right. This could not continue. But she was not willing to give up the money. She needed it too badly.
"Stop!" Jenny cried as a plan emerged in her mind
.
"I will fill all your orders soon enough, but you must be quiet.
Please."
When every tongue went still, Jenny emptied the winter squash from a harvest basket and set it atop the chopping block. "I will set this basket outside the service door each night. If you wish to purchase a pot, place a stone inside. By morn, I will leave a pot for every stone. Take your pot and leave one guinea for each pot ordered. You are on the honor system. If I do not find one guinea per pot, I will cease filling orders. Do you understand?"
Annie settled her hands on her hips. "You heard her. No one comes inside or even raps on the door. You place
y
our orders in the basket or not at all. Pass the word."
And so it was settled. It would be easier this way.
Or so Jenny thought, until late that eve when she found
twenty-six
stones in her basket outside the service door.
Chapter Six
Muted gray light crept through the square stillroom window leaving the table where Jenny rested her head shrouded in shadow. She blinked her eyes open, only half aware of the great clock in the upper passage proclaiming the sixth hour. "Oh," she groaned.
Morning already.
Wearily, she raised her head. As she pushed up from the table, her hand brushed one of the thirty pots of peppermint cream she'd managed to complete during the night. Jenny stretched out the sore muscles in her arms and yawned.
Lud, she was exhausted. How long had she slept? Maybe an hour?
From the corner of her eye she glimpsed the lavender gown she needed to remake lying pitifully untouched atop her sewing basket. The gown was another castoff from Meredith, requiring quite a lot of work to become even marginally stylish, but Jenny desperately needed another gown if she wanted to preserve her lady's guise. She loosed a long sigh. There just weren't enough hours in the day to complete her lady's maid duties, pot the cream, and see to her own needs as Lady Genevieve.
85
Dutifully she wedged the thirty pots into the long, sturdy harvest basket and opened the door to set them outside.
Jenny lurched as a cold breeze rushed at her, along with five members of Bath's service staff who'd been patiently waiting on the stoop.
"Good morn, Jenny!" a parlor maid called out in a voice as bright as a golden guinea.
Heavens, I must look a fright,
Jenny thought, and fretfully tucked the hair hanging in her face behind her ears.
"I've made four extra," she announced abruptly, "in case any of your needs exceed your orders."
"I'd hoped to coax another from you, Jen. I'll take a
s
pare." Horace, the toothy footman, stepped forward and emptied his leather bag into Jenny's eager hand.
Two guineas.
Two,
and the day had barely begun. Jenny felt almost giddy. After no more than three minutes, she left the two unsold pots in the basket and went back inside with twenty-eighty guineas in her hands.
She was rich,
rich
!