The Fall of Lord Drayson (Tanglewood Book 1) by Rachael Anderson

in the kitchen if ya need anythin’.” She disappeared, and her footsteps tread quickly down the hall as though she could not get away fast enough.
    Collins shut the door and walked over to the chest, where he pulled the top drawer open. Inside were a few pairs of stockings, along with some small clothes and nightclothes. The second drawer contained three white shirts—no more pink, thank heavens—and the last contained two pair of trousers and a pair of tan buckskins. The clothing was definitely not in the first stare of fashion, but not as deplorable as Miss Beresford had led him to believe.
    Not wanting to linger in the chilly, damp dungeon of a room, or in clothes that belonged on a ridiculous dandy with a novice tailor, Colin made quick work of shaving and changing. Then he returned to the kitchen, where he found a plate filled with ham, eggs, and bread slathered with marmalade. It smelled so good it made his stomach rumble, and he glanced around for Georgina. She was nowhere to be seen, so Collins sat down and helped himself to a meal that tasted like heaven itself. Once finished, he downed a mug of ale and picked up the list of chores once again. Although his body still ached, his mind felt clearer and he was anxious to see if any of the tasks came as naturally to him as shaving had.
     
     

Lucy walked into the yellow room just as a billowing cloud of ash and soot descended from the flue and cascaded over the top of the earl. He emerged from the haze coughing and spluttering and filthy. Lucy raised her forearm to cover her nose, along with the smile that rose to her mouth.
    “How long has it been since this flue has been cleaned?” the earl demanded the moment he saw her.
    Lucy ignored the question. “I realize you do not care for white shirts, Collins, but this is a very silly way to go about dying it.”
    His glare had no effect on Lucy. She was too busy trying to contain her laughter at the black smudges on his cheeks and nose. A giggle escaped and she was quick to cover her mouth with her fingertips.
    He tossed the brush he had been carrying at the fireplace and gestured down at his ruined clothes. “You find this amusing?”
    She walked forward and touched the tip of his nose then pulled her finger back to show him the residue. “You look like a very tall chimney sweep,” she said.
    “Exactly,” he said. “Not a butler, footman, or coachman, but a chimney sweep . Do you not find that peculiar?”
    Lucy had to admit, she was impressed that he had chosen the most onerous task to complete first. She had assumed that he would scoff at the thought of cleaning the flue and take to polishing the silver instead, if he did anything at all. But here he was, covered in ash and soot and looking quite handsome despite everything.
    “This is no ordinary household, Collins,” explained Lucy. “We do what must be done even if the job varies from what is expected of a certain position.”
    He appeared ready to argue then clamped his mouth closed, no doubt thinking a myriad of uncharitable thoughts about Lucy. But he kept those thoughts to himself, which was something he would not have done yesterday.
    She smiled again, delighted by the fact that he was beginning to understand that his place was not to argue but to do as he was told.
    “Well,” Lucy said, clasping her hands in front of her. “I suppose we had best get this room tidied up, and quickly too. I was in town this morning and bumped into Mrs. Bidding, who insisted on paying a visit this afternoon. She will be here shortly, and we certainly do not want to send her away looking like a chimney sweep as well.”
    The earl rolled his eyes—a gesture not lost on Lucy as the whites of his eyes practically glowed against the charcoal of the surrounding skin. But as before, he held his tongue and said nothing.
    “Oh, and I also saw Dr. Short as well. I took it upon myself to ask about your . . . condition.” Not that Lucy had told the good doctor about the