The Bed and the Bachelor Read Online Free PDF

loyalty for the former housekeeper, Mrs. Beatty—as well as promises not to easily accept Sebastianne as the other woman’s replacement.
    “Says I’m too skinny to be a cook, she does, Mr. Stowe. Have ye ever heard the like of that?”
    One thin eyebrow lifted at the remark. “You are very slender, which is a curiosity I suppose considering your pleasure in sampling your own fare. A paradox, if ever there was one.”
    “ A parawhatox? ” The cook snorted and waved a dismissive hand. “All I know is you can’t tell if a meal’s fit to be served unless you take a taste or two of it first.”
    Stowe nodded as if this were a familiar conversation, then turned back to introducing Sebastianne. “These two young women are Finnegan and Polk,” he said, indicating the others. “Please stop what you’re doing for a minute and come forward.”
    Wiping their hands on their aprons, the two kitchen maids did as they were told. Standing together, they politely bobbed their heads and curtseyed.
    “Lyles is the underfootman whom I believe you have also met, albeit briefly,” the butler continued. ”Ah, here he comes now, back to finish polishing the plate.”
    The liveried footman she had encountered earlier came through the doorway, along with a dark, curly-haired man a few years his senior. Realizing that introductions were being made, the pair fell into line as did another two women who’d followed the men into the room.
    Parker, the upper housemaid, Sebastianne already knew, but the plump blond girl with her was a stranger. She assumed this must be the much-discussed Cobbs.
    With the staff lined up in a neat row, the introductions continued. The curly-haired man’s name proved to be Jasper, and he was the upper footman. His affable smile and open, cheerful demeanor put her instantly at ease. She’d already met the kitchen maid and scullion, of course—Polk and Finnegan returning to their tasks as soon as they were formally made known to her by Mr. Stowe. Parker, the upper housemaid, gave her a friendly nod while the other housemaid, who was indeed the elusive Cobbs, squeaked out a quiet greeting before executing a respectful dip of her knees.
    Mr. Stowe informed Sebastianne that Lord Drake also employed a coachman, Mr. Morton, and two grooms, Jem and Harvey.
    “You’ll meet them at mealtimes,” he said, “since otherwise they stay in the mews, occupied with the horses and carriages.”
    And last was his lordship’s valet, Waxman, who not surprisingly kept his own schedule and took orders from no one but Lord Drake himself. As if mention of his name had summoned him, Waxman abruptly appeared, walking quickly into the kitchen.
    At first glance he reminded her of a rule-bound gendarme—tall, proud and full of arrogant self-assurance. His dress was immaculate, as it should be, she supposed, given the custom of valets receiving their masters’ cast-off clothing. His light brown hair was brushed into a sleek wave that he combed high in an obvious attempt to hide the bald spot forming on the back of his head. His features were even, pleasant in a bland sort of way, but not his eyes—his gaze an exacting steely grey that was critically observant of all it surveyed.
    I’ll have to be careful not to unduly attract his notice, Sebastianne thought, instinctively realizing she would need to take pains to avoid Waxman when she conducted her search of the house.
    “His lordship requires breakfast,” the valet announced in an imperious voice. “Eggs, toast and coffee. I should like the tray made ready in no more than ten minutes.”
    Mrs. Tremble shot him an annoyed look. “Ye’ll have it in fifteen and be glad of it. Takes nearly that long to grind the beans and set the brew to steep.”
    Before the valet had time to offer a rejoinder, Sebastianne stepped forward. “I would be happy to prepare the coffee for his lordship. Are the beans and mill kept in the stillroom?”
    “Aye, and thank ye kindly,” Mrs. Tremble