Lady in the Mist - Laurie Alice Eakes [7]
Letty sighed. “No more cooking, girl. Open the window and don’t open the door to the rest of the house.”
Dinah vanished into the smoke like the mermaid midwife had slipped into the mist.
These thoughts of the woman had to stop. Dominick fixed his gaze on a fat, red-breasted bird the Americans called a robin but was surely a thrush. It perched on the branch of an oak, whistling tunelessly and preening. It was a cheerful sound, but not nearly as happy as that of the red cardinal. Dominick had spent so much time in London to avoid his father in the country, he hadn’t noticed much about birds. He liked them. A man could distract himself from females by watching birds, as long as the creatures didn’t go about courting and flirting. Now that spring had arrived, courting and flirting permeated the avian population.
Dominick shifted his shoulders. “Is it possible to run out of powder or have it get damp? Perhaps you could give that instead of bread flour to Dinah.”
“Old Mrs. Kendall ordered it by the ton, I think.” Letty chuckled. “If we run out of the white, we have the pink and blue.”
“If you dare . . .” Dominick twisted his head around to see the end of the queue.
It was white, powdered thickly enough that not a strand of the original dark brown showed through. Revolting.
“Can I bear four years of this?”
“You’ll have to, lad.” Letty whipped off the holland cover. “Unless those fine relations of yours can find the wherewithal to buy your indenture.”
They could. His brothers’ quarterly allowance alone provided them with more than enough. The question was, would they? The answer to that was simple—no. To have him out of the way for four years would have them all returning to church to count their blessings.
His uncle, on the other hand, had promised to free him if the mission succeeded. Prancing about a rich man’s house like a Bond Street beau, instead of what he’d imagined—working hard outdoors, spending time along the shore, associating with the sort of young men disappearing from the coastal villages—made success appear unlikely.
“I think you’ll have to suffer with me for four years, Letty.” He rose. “Thank you for playing coiffeuse. Do I get my breakfast—” A bell rang inside the house. “No, no breakfast for me. The master calls.”
He strode into the kitchen and picked up the tray of coffeepot and cream pitcher that one of the twins had prepared. The stench of burned toast stung his nostrils, and he didn’t mind missing breakfast quite so much. It wouldn’t be the first morning meal he hadn’t partaken of in his life. Since leaving for Oxford at seventeen, he’d more often than not been sound asleep when food was available. Never in those lazy days of indolence did he imagine he’d be up before the birds to serve someone else.
“Justice,” he reminded himself, and shoved open the door between the kitchen and dining room.
Thomas Kendall sat at the head of a table for twelve, a newspaper spread out and a Bible open before him. Sunlight shimmered off his hair, turning the thick locks to pure silver, which emphasized the bronze of his complexion. At Dominick’s entrance, Kendall turned a pair of pale blue eyes in his butler’s direction. “Good morning, Cherrett, you’re looking fatigued. Didn’t sleep well?”
What about not at all?
“No, sir, I’m still getting used to things here.”
“It’s a different life from the one you’re used to, I’m sure.” Kendall moved the newspaper aside so Dominick could serve the coffee. “But you’ve taken to it well. It’s a good thing. In another two weeks, we’ll be entertaining some important guests and I’ll hire extra servants to help. You’ll be responsible for them.”
Father would have an apoplexy laughing if he saw his younger son responsible for anything.
“Will you be up to that, Cherrett?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll fetch your breakfast now.”
He retreated to the kitchen for the plate of bacon, eggs, and sconelike roll the Americans called a biscuit, though it wasn’t sweet. Once the meal lay before Kendall, Dominick withdrew to a place by the door to wait for orders to retrieve