Page 19 of Her Baseborn Bridegroom

“Was there . . . was everything as it should be?” she asked, moistening her lips.

“Let’s discuss it later. After we have compared our lists with your books.”

Linnet’s spirits sank. His expression was grim, and after his words the other day, she had vague and horrible suspicions about the Jevonses and their treatment of her estate.

Cuthbert chose that moment to reenter the hall with a large steaming cup for her to drink all at once, as he instructed firmly.

Linnet took sips of the tasty beverage as large as she could manage.

“The kitchen’s buzzing,” said Cuthbert with satisfaction. “They’ve been falling over themselves to get a glimpse of you all week milady.” He turned a puzzled look upon her. “Only fancy, half of them thought you a hunchback with a squint and a limp.”

Linnet coughed, lowering her drink. “Indeed?” she asked with watering eyes.

“Cook says Gertrude said you are finely made with all the right limbs and only speckled, ’tis all, with lice in your hair.”

Her face fell “Lice?” she squeaked. “Whatever possessed Gertrude to say such a thing?” she asked in bewilderment. She felt hurt. It was bad enough the servants were talking of humpbacks and speckles, let alone spreading false rumors about her cleanliness.

It was Mason’s turn to splutter now. It had sounded suspiciously like a laugh for a moment. “Do you think she might have said ‘licentious’ hair, Cuthbert?” he asked gravely.

Cuthbert’s eyes wrinkled up. “Possibly,” he admitted. “What does it mean?”

“It means red, Cuthbert,” lied Linnet swiftly.

His frown cleared. “Oh. Yes, that’s probably what she said, alright.” He beamed at them both, oblivious both to Linnet’s discomfiture and Mason’s amusement.

Mason reached over to run a hand slowly through her loose hair, making her jump.

“Cobwebs?” she asked nervously.

He shook his head, continuing to thread his fingers through the silky length. If she didn’t know any better she would almost think he liked it!

Remembering how she had played with his hair that morning while he slept, she felt herself blush faintly. Or maybe that was just the fact he was touching her so casually when she wasn’t accustomed to such treatment.

A dry cough brought them both out of the moment. The steward Cecil Robards stood before them holding two leather satchels. His bearing was tense, his expression tight.

“Sir Mason, my lady. These two sacks need to be added to the inventory.”

Linnet sat up as Mason’s dark brows snapped together. Cecil placed them stiffly on the table before them. Linnet reached to open the first bag as Mason merely turned to her. To her surprise she recognized the contents. It was her mother’s jewelry. Golden necklaces set with rubies and pearls, and silver-linked belts decorated with sapphires.

“The Cadwallader jewels!” breathed Cuthbert reverently.

“Where were they?” asked Mason sharply.

“I thought it expedient to retrieve them from the . . . um . . . the garderobe of Sir and Lady Jevons before they finished packing the other night.”

“They kept them in their latrine?”

Linnet snatched her hand back hastily.

“Indeed they did, sir. Many people do. It’s quite a common hiding place,” he added apologetically at Linnet’s disgusted expression.

“I don’t believe I will wear them to supper after all,” she said in a weak attempt at humor. Cuthbert gurgled with appreciation but Robards still looked ill at ease, staring at his feet.

“Thank you, Robards,” she said. “My husband and I were discussing your honest service the other day. We do appreciate that you have remained with us.”

Robards’s face became suffused with color as he stammered his thanks, and Linnet almost missed Mason’s look of displeasure, it was so fleeting.

“I would like you to look over my wife’s household accounts, Robards,” he said coolly. “Paying particular attention to the staff listed therein.”