pushing prams. The man who came to take Lord Gardiner’s horses was middle-aged, neatly dressed, and clean-shaven. He seemed knowledgeably appreciative of the earl’s prime-goers.
“Shall I take these beauties back to the mews, gov’nor, or just around the block so’s they don’t cool down?”
“Can you drive?”
The man carefully aimed a stream of tobacco juice between rows of pansies. “Anything with wheels.”
“And can you keep a still tongue in your head?”
“I reckon so,” the one-time Cock Robin said with a grin. “If Rob Tuthill can’t keep his mummers dubbed, then no one can.”
Lord Gardiner watched Tuthill drive the curricle away with consummate skill. He was liking this notion better and better. He’d have to remember to invite Cholly to his first not-so-intimate gathering.
A dimpled little maid opened the door for him, took his beaver and gloves, and showed him to the parlor. “I be Lorna, milord. I come in days. Would you please to wait in the parlor while I fetch the housekeeper to show you about? We put refreshments out for you, milord.” She curtsied prettily, showing the dimples again before she left.
Gard smiled back at the delightful little baggage, not that he ever dallied with servants in his employ, or such young chits, either. A pretty face always being welcome, though, he automatically added the maid to the inventory of the house’s attractions.
The excellent strawberry tarts were another. ’Pon rep, he wouldn’t miss squiring his barques of frailty to noisy public restaurants if the house boasted a fine cook of its own. Strange, he thought as he sipped a fine sherry and had another bite of pastry, the rental agent had not mentioned the residence was fully staffed. The fellow would have dickered for a higher price if he knew how Lord Gardiner loved strawberry tarts. Ross’s blue eyes shone as he looked around the parlor that ran from front to rear of the small home, tastefully furnished yet with enough room for a deal table or two. Even had a pianoforte, although he doubted many of his guests would have the training, or the time, to play. Yes, the house was a bargain.
The rest of the place was just as pleasing. The housekeeper led him to a smaller sitting room across the hall that contained an overstuffed sofa in front of a tiled fireplace. Excellent. Next to that was a dining room that could seat ten, the housekeeper informed him. Two was enough. Beyond the dining parlor was a small apartment consisting of an office for the household accounts and a tiny bedroom, which she hustled him out of so fast, he was sure it belonged to his guide.
Below stairs he was introduced to Rob Tuthill’s wife, who blushed when Lord Gardiner complimented her cooking. “’Tis a joy to cook in such a modern kitchen, my lord.” She rattled a stack of dishes nervously, so the earl bowed and moved on, determined not to agitate such an asset. The chef at Gardiner House threw a Gallic fit if a stranger entered his domain. Ross smiled, trying to turn the woman up sweet so he’d be more welcome in her kitchen next time. He gave cursory inspection to the Tuthills’ chambers behind the kitchen and pantries. What he wanted to see was upstairs.
He was not disappointed. The master suite consisted of two fair-sized dressing rooms connected to a bedroom almost as large as his in Grosvenor Square. There was an enormous canopied bed and rugs so thick he’d have taken his shoes off right then if not for the housekeeper. Ah, yes.
There were two other pleasant bedrooms on this floor, in case Cholly stayed over. On the attic level were some unused servant’s rooms, one of which could make a perfect studio. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “Yes, indeed.”
“Then you like it?” the housekeeper asked, nearly wringing her hands. “You’ll take it?”
Lord Gardiner cupped his chin in his hands, deliberating. The house was ideal for his purposes, close enough for convenience yet almost invisible to the
“Shall I take these beauties back to the mews, gov’nor, or just around the block so’s they don’t cool down?”
“Can you drive?”
The man carefully aimed a stream of tobacco juice between rows of pansies. “Anything with wheels.”
“And can you keep a still tongue in your head?”
“I reckon so,” the one-time Cock Robin said with a grin. “If Rob Tuthill can’t keep his mummers dubbed, then no one can.”
Lord Gardiner watched Tuthill drive the curricle away with consummate skill. He was liking this notion better and better. He’d have to remember to invite Cholly to his first not-so-intimate gathering.
A dimpled little maid opened the door for him, took his beaver and gloves, and showed him to the parlor. “I be Lorna, milord. I come in days. Would you please to wait in the parlor while I fetch the housekeeper to show you about? We put refreshments out for you, milord.” She curtsied prettily, showing the dimples again before she left.
Gard smiled back at the delightful little baggage, not that he ever dallied with servants in his employ, or such young chits, either. A pretty face always being welcome, though, he automatically added the maid to the inventory of the house’s attractions.
The excellent strawberry tarts were another. ’Pon rep, he wouldn’t miss squiring his barques of frailty to noisy public restaurants if the house boasted a fine cook of its own. Strange, he thought as he sipped a fine sherry and had another bite of pastry, the rental agent had not mentioned the residence was fully staffed. The fellow would have dickered for a higher price if he knew how Lord Gardiner loved strawberry tarts. Ross’s blue eyes shone as he looked around the parlor that ran from front to rear of the small home, tastefully furnished yet with enough room for a deal table or two. Even had a pianoforte, although he doubted many of his guests would have the training, or the time, to play. Yes, the house was a bargain.
The rest of the place was just as pleasing. The housekeeper led him to a smaller sitting room across the hall that contained an overstuffed sofa in front of a tiled fireplace. Excellent. Next to that was a dining room that could seat ten, the housekeeper informed him. Two was enough. Beyond the dining parlor was a small apartment consisting of an office for the household accounts and a tiny bedroom, which she hustled him out of so fast, he was sure it belonged to his guide.
Below stairs he was introduced to Rob Tuthill’s wife, who blushed when Lord Gardiner complimented her cooking. “’Tis a joy to cook in such a modern kitchen, my lord.” She rattled a stack of dishes nervously, so the earl bowed and moved on, determined not to agitate such an asset. The chef at Gardiner House threw a Gallic fit if a stranger entered his domain. Ross smiled, trying to turn the woman up sweet so he’d be more welcome in her kitchen next time. He gave cursory inspection to the Tuthills’ chambers behind the kitchen and pantries. What he wanted to see was upstairs.
He was not disappointed. The master suite consisted of two fair-sized dressing rooms connected to a bedroom almost as large as his in Grosvenor Square. There was an enormous canopied bed and rugs so thick he’d have taken his shoes off right then if not for the housekeeper. Ah, yes.
There were two other pleasant bedrooms on this floor, in case Cholly stayed over. On the attic level were some unused servant’s rooms, one of which could make a perfect studio. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “Yes, indeed.”
“Then you like it?” the housekeeper asked, nearly wringing her hands. “You’ll take it?”
Lord Gardiner cupped his chin in his hands, deliberating. The house was ideal for his purposes, close enough for convenience yet almost invisible to the
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