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His elusive smile appeared again. It was so unexpected that she stared. He looked relaxed, she thought with surprise. That was the difference. His dark hair fell forward in his face. And the expression in his eyes matched his words for once.

“I would very much like to bathe you,” he admitted without a trace of shame. “But alas, I have to meet with the King this morning and cannot tarry.”

Her face flamed. He’d like to bathe her? For a moment she thought she’d misheard him, but his face wore a quizzical expression. She tried to school her own features so she looked less shocked. “Is that something that is done by a husband for his wife?” she asked weakly.

He shrugged. “Why not?” His hand had slipped beneath her now and he was stroking her backside with such familiarity that she kept forgetting to breathe. Suddenly she remembered that Meldon’s god-daughter was expected to start with them today. “The new lady’s maid,” she reminded him unevenly. What was her name?

“Hmm?” Oswald’s eyes were on her mouth, but he didn’t seem to be taking in her words.

“Trudy,” she remembered suddenly, but his mouth was already on hers, warm and lascivious. His tongue slid along hers so teasingly that Fen felt it in her very loins, her whole body quivering. He groaned into the kiss and her hands flew to grasp his upper arms for strength as she strained against him. She clutched the flexing muscle and moaned herself when his hard thigh pushed between her own and rubbed against the tender spot there. He tore his mouth away at the sound of the latch and rolled onto his side, drawing the blanket firmly up around her.

“Her ladyship requires a bath,” he told Meldon as the servant stomped over to the washstand. Fenella marveled at his steady voice. “Have one sent up from the kitchens.”

“Aye,” muttered Meldon.

“And I require the key for this bedroom door.”

“The key?”

“That’s what I said. The key.”

Fenella closed her eyes and kept them shut as Meldon set down the water jug and then stomped back out again. “He won’t be happy about having to fetch a bath,” she commented.

Oswald shrugged. He was already rising from the bed. “He will reconcile himself. As you say, his god-daughter starts with you today, so his duties will be lighter.”

Fenella heard him pour the water from the ewer into the basin and snuck a peek at him as he started to wash. He did not trouble to draw on his robe this morning, no doubt thinking she was beyond being shocked by this point. Sadly, proving him wrong, she felt a blush spread over her neck and face as she hurriedly averted her gaze. He was clearly aroused, which was not something you could miss with a man as well-endowed as he.

“What will you do, today?” he asked casually. “Have you made any plans?”

Fenella considered this as she listened to the sound of the water sloshing around. “Hester Schaeffer said she could introduce me to a gathering of ladies who meet twice a month to discuss the arts,” she said without much enthusiasm.

The ewer chinked against the basin and she guessed he was adding more hot water.

“That could be instructive,” he said, and she heard him shake out a cloth.

“They will all be very learned and cultured noble ladies,” she said plucking at the bedsheets. Unlike myself, she added silently.

“You will be fine,” Oswald assured her in a slightly muffled voice. He must be wiping his face. “If you should feel out of your depth, simply offer to sponsor someone. There’s always a surfeit of poets, playwrights and painters loitering around court.”

“But how will I know if they are any good?” she asked. “Sadly, I could not rely on my own judgement in this area.”

She heard droplets and thought he must be wringing out his wash-cloth.

“In such cases it is probably best to be led by those who are considered good judges,” Oswald told her. “Lady Eden Montmayne is generally held to have excellent taste and a lively appreciation of the arts.”

“Eden Montmayne,” repeated Fenella committing the name to memory. “Have I met her already?”

Oswald paused, considering this. “I do not think so. She is one of the Queen’s most recently-appointed ladies in waiting. Lady Schaeffer can perform your introductions.”

“Will Lord Schaeffer be at your meeting this morning?” she asked, attempting a wifely interest.

“No,” he answered briefly.

“Is it a full meeting of the privy council or just yourself and the King?”

“Fenella,” he said, and she heard the frown in his voice and looked up with surprise.

He was rubbing a drying cloth across his chest. Luckily it hung down and obscured his groin area from her view. “I would prefer that your interest in my line of work was less lively,” he said forthrightly.