The Marquess Read Online Free PDF Page B

the billiard table that had been converted to breakfast table
with the simple expedient of throwing some boards and a cloth over it.
    Gavin had sold the Queen Anne breakfast table months ago,
but the billiard table had warped to worthlessness for its original purpose.
    At the cook’s words he turned his gaze with apparent
interest to the crack sifting plaster dust over the linen, hiding his laughter
at the British expression that would have had his American friends howling.
Considering the cook was fifty if she was a day, and round as she was tall,
knocking her up in the American way would have been extremely difficult, if not
outright unnatural. Besides, he would never take advantage of a woman so blind
she couldn’t see his face. He grimaced at the image that raised.
    “I will remember that in the future, Matilda.”
Gavin refrained from mentioning that he hadn’t raided the larder. No
doubt Michael had stolen a pasty before taking the carriage out for its long
ride.
    “Young Janet said she heard the lady walking last
night. The lady always walks in time of trouble. Is there aught I should be
telling the others?” the old woman asked wisely, her eyes narrowing with
concern.
    Startled, Gavin brought his gaze back down from the ceiling.
“The lady?”
    Blind to the falling plaster, Matilda stepped back from the
table and wrapped her plump hands in her apron. “The ghost of the fifth
marquess’s wife, my lord. She died in the master chamber, before the
sixth marquess added those new rooms. She only haunts the old part, I
understand. They say she walked the nights the seventh marquess suffered with
the toothache that killed him.”
    Gavin glanced suspiciously at the wall, which sounded as if
it had emitted a muffled giggle. He must see about getting another cat if the
rats had entered this far into the house.
    Returning his attention to the subject his cook had
introduced, he rather suspected if any ghost walked these floors, it was the
last marquess. In the year since his arrival, he had found his female cousin
and her mother, the marchioness. He felt sympathy for the seventh
marquess’s young widow and daughter, but any man who would die of an
abscess rather than have a tooth drawn deserved his fate.
    He didn’t mention his opinion to the loyal cook.
Matilda still considered the marchioness the lady of the house, and he was more
than grateful for the lady’s influence in persuading her personal chefs
back to this rotting mansion. He didn’t much care about dust and
disorder, but he had gone hungry too many times in his life to like doing so
again. He saw nothing extraordinary in employing both cook and pastry chef since
both were willing to work in this reportedly haunted mansion when others would
not.
    “I’ll look into the matter, Matilda. No doubt
one of the sashes has come loose up there. I’ll not have Janet’s
sleep disturbed again. She has trouble rising as it is.”
    Matilda snorted in mixed reproof and agreement. When she
left, Gavin gazed at his breakfast with less than interest. How could he
transport it upstairs to the invalid without inviting all sorts of interesting
questions? His conversation with Matilda made it evident that the servants knew
everything that went on in this house even when they slept. But Michael had
insisted on keeping their guest hidden.
    Maybe he should encourage the superstitious fear of “the
lady.” Of a certainty that would keep the servants out of the upper
story. They seldom strayed up there as it was since he didn’t use those
rooms. Janet had all she could do to keep the library, study, and billiard room
clean. He could sleep on his couch in the study as well as anywhere, and he certainly
had no need for salons and drawing rooms. He only employed Janet, the maid, and
a man of all trades, in any event—outside the eccentricity of employing
both a cook and a pastry chef.
    Deciding he was master of this household and could do
anything he liked, Gavin lifted a