Lady in the Mist - Laurie Alice Eakes [6]
He leaned against the closed door of his room, the only place in the chamber where he could stand up straight, and scowled at the dormer window so fiercely the glass should have cracked. He had only himself to blame if she discovered his identity and told Kendall. Midwives and mayors didn’t travel in the same circles in England, but who knew what social starts the Yankees practiced. Kendall certainly thought nothing of inviting Dominick to sit and talk with him on those evenings when he didn’t have guests. It was a practice that discomfited Dominick while at the same time pleased him. The rest of the indoor servants were female and not the sort of companionship he needed or wanted.
But Madam Midwife . . .
Dominick began to slip the buttons on his coat out of their holes one by one. He should hurry if he didn’t want to trust Dinah or Deborah, the maids, with powdering his hair in time for him to serve Kendall his breakfast, but he couldn’t move faster with the lady on the beach occupying his thoughts. Part of his brainbox suggested he ignore her from now on and hope good sense would prompt her to say nothing of their encounter. He should have kissed her. That would have ensured her silence to avoid a scandal. But he hadn’t been that much of a rascal, alas. Still, it would have been far nicer than any threat.
A threat was likely the wrong course to take with the mermaid midwife. Foolish to have considered it for a moment. Any pudding head should recognize a threat would send her in the opposite direction.
If he weren’t a sap skull, he wouldn’t be tugging on indecently tight knee breeches in deep blue and silver braid, and a matching coat. The silk stockings and leather pumps didn’t allow for him to carry his knife strapped to his calf, so he tucked it down the neck of his shirt. Although he felt as though he needed the sort of insurance Lloyd’s of London could provide, the knife was the best he could manage in his current position.
His tread stiff now, he descended the steps at the pace of a man three times his five and twenty years, and entered the kitchen. The other two house servants sat at the table cutting their spoons into those spongy eggs, and eating pallid toast with cups of black coffee. Still chewing or sipping, they faced him, their identical blue eyes sweeping him from head to toe as though he were the next course.
“I’ll go make your toast the way you like it, Mr. Cherrett,” Dinah cooed.
“I’ll put your egg in the water to boil.” Deborah leaped to her feet. “Three minutes exact, right?”
“Yes, thank you, but first—” He glanced toward Letty. “My hair?”
“I’ll do it,” the twins cried.
“A pity you have to powder it,” Deborah added. “It’s so thick and shiny and—”
“Return to your breakfast,” Letty commanded. “You’re making the boy blush. Dinah, that bread’s too thick. Come into the yard, Dominick.” She gathered up the pomade pot and powder box.
Feeling like an actor about to step onto stage, he submitted to Letty’s ministrations. She possessed as deft a hand with his hair as she demonstrated with a pastry.
“Does the man think imitating an English nobleman will get him out of Seabourne and into Richmond?” Dominick asked.
“Not anything so unimportant as Richmond.” Letty laughed. “He wants to get to Washington. He thinks Senator Kendall sounds fine.”
“To vote against my countrymen?”
“Yes. His nephew got shipped aboard an English vessel last year. Cover your face.” Dominick drew over his face the edge of the holland furniture covering he used to protect his clothing when Letty dusted his hair with powder like a cake being frosted with sugar. “So the English Navy doesn’t care if they’re rich men’s sons or not, eh?”
“Seems that way, unless the young men around here are just taking themselves off after—what is it, Dinah?”
Dominick peeked over the edge of the cloth. Dinah stood in the doorway, her cap askew, revealing guinea-gold curls, her eyes streaming. Behind her, smoke billowed toward the door. The reek of burned toast spilled into the garden.
“Not that crispy,” Dominick muttered.
“It fell into the fire,