Page 54 of A Much Maligned Miss

Unsurprisingly at this hour, all was quiet as he entered The Citadel using the key Ralph had given him the previous day. He breezed through the bar and made his way toward the backstairs carrying the last of his packages. He had just mounted the bottom step when he heard a burst of laughter coming from the scullery.

He paused, a cold sensation running down his spine. Was that Caroline? He had heard her laugh before. She had a pleasant laugh, but this sounded like three or four women and the laughter had a decidedly raucous edge. Slowly, he turned to the face the door, pushing it slightly open with the toe of his boot.

“Used to tell me to sit on ’is face and ride him like I was ventin’ a tear. That’s what he used to call it,” announced a raspy voice. Gervaise blinked as he heard gusty laughter by way of reply.

“Ventin’ a tear?” repeated another voice in mystified tones. It sounded like the redhead, Effie, who had fetched their supper the previous night. “Wonder what ’e meant by that, bless ’im.”

“Dunno,” the first admitted. “I fort it must be a racing term. Like ‘off to the races.’ Leastways, that’s wot I used to take ’is meanin’ as.”

Someone else cleared their throat. “I expect he said ‘ventre a terre,’” they suggested. This was Caroline’s voice, he realized at once. Instead of reeling in horror from such discourse, it seemed she was an enthusiastic participant.

“Wot’s that?” another voice asked, sounding like she was chewing on something at the same time. “Never ’eard of it.”

“It means ‘at full gallop,’” Caroline explained helpfully.

“So, I was right, then,” the first voice said cheerily. “Only ’e always seemed pretty pleased wiv’ my interpretation.”

“I expect he was,” Caroline agreed solemnly, and he immediately wanted to see her face. He could already picture her serious expression, while her eyes danced with mirth. She always showed her real feeling in her eyes.

The disreputable voice chortled. “Given you sumfink to think about, ain’t I, girls?”

“Jeb’s not really into perversions,” the second voice confessed. “E’s pretty straightforward in bed, truth to tell.” It was Effie then, he had been right.

“Oh, yes? Dunno wot she’s missing out on, does she, darlin?” the first said jocularly. “Bet ’is lordship’s a bit more adventurous!”

Gervaise pushed the door wide open at this point, and four women sat at the table swung around to look at him, their faces displaying a whole range of expressions. They varied from a downright guilty Caroline, to a distinctly unbothered old woman who looked him up and down with lively interest. Remus yawned widely in her lap as Romulus sat squarely in the middle of the table, cleaning his paws.

“That you, your lordship?” Effie said, recovering first. “Only we was just lettin’ down our back hair and havin’ a cuppa and a catch up, us girls together.”

“So, I see,” he remarked, taking in the open chocolate box and the half-empty teacups. He would not have been surprised to see an open bottle of gin at this point, but things did not seem to have progressed that far.

Entering the room, he dropped his most recent packages onto the unopened pile that stood in the corner and sauntered over to the table, holding out a hand to Caroline. When she took it, he hauled her up out of her chair and stood a moment, his eyes roaming over her loose dark hair and the fact she was wearing her dressing robe belowstairs.

Her hand was as ice. Seizing her other, he found it just as cold and frowned. “Did I get the right ones?” he asked, his eyes flickering from her face to the chocolates.

“Oh yes,” she said, suddenly smiling and catching him off guard. That smile. Had he thought it was only her eyes that were expressive? He had been wrong. “They are wonderful. The squire’s box only had orange centers. These have orange, lemon, strawberry, lime and…”

“Raspberry,” the old char finished off. “Those ones is my favorite.”

“This is Gracie,” Caroline hurried to explain. “She does the cleaning around here and will be doing our laundry.”

“S’right, your lordship,” said Gracie complacently.

“How do you do?” He reached across to shake hands with the dreadful old woman. After all, she could not perform a curtsey sat in her chair and she could hardly leap up, not when Remus lay snoozing in her lap.

“And this is Violet, Effie’s friend,” Caroline said, indicating a well-built blonde. Gervaise gave her a cursory greeting to before turning back to his true quarry.

“Why are you wearing your dressing gown belowstairs?” he enquired pointedly.

“Oh, because I found it quite cold in a toga,” she replied, as though that made perfect sense.

“I see,” Gervaise said slowly. Perhaps there had been gin involved after all.

“Poor little ’fing was turning blue wiv’ cold before that nasty brute let her put it on,” Gracie tutted. “Summit cruel it was, and so I told ’im!”

“I daresay a toga was perfectly adequate in ancient Greece,” Caroline put in swiftly, “but here in present day London it leaves a lot to be desired.” She gave a little shiver.

“They did not wear togas in ancient Greece,” Gervaise corrected her. “What have you been up to, I wonder?”