Read Online Saving Persephone (The Haberdashers Book 4) by Sue London - Free Book Online
Authors: Sue London
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Typhaon, as the stallion required concentration for proper handling. Then there was the playacting he indulged in to ingratiate himself to the local tavern goers. Although typically closemouthed with the Quality, locals were often easily enamored of a young, foolish nobleman with open pockets and a love of drink. As such, he was more than a bit soused by the time he rode back to the house. Typhaon took advantage of his impaired state and the two of them fought for supremacy most of the way. Robert turned the stallion over with grim satisfaction to the one groom who could handle him and made his way unevenly into the house and up the stairs. He had almost gained the landing when he heard her voice below.
“You don't wish for supper?”
His stomach pitched at the thought. “No. Do what pleases you.”
As he let himself into his chambers he regretted for the first time that they had been sharing the space. Perhaps he should have spent the night at the village. He didn't want to remove himself to another room, as this one was perfectly oriented for a hasty escape, should it become necessary. He stood in the middle of the floor contemplating what to do when he heard a rustle. It proved to be Miss Grant, standing in the doorway.
She looked him up and down. “I'll have them prepare the bath downstairs.”
“I don't need-”
She gave him an arch look. “I'll fetch you when the water is ready.”
He sat on the chair to remove his boots, but the struggle to do so was too great and he rested his head back against the wall for a moment.
* * *
When Imogen returned Robert was asleep sitting up. People often reacted poorly when she called out the parts of themselves they sought to hide, but this was the first time she could remember a man driving himself to such a state. He had returned to the house sweaty, muddy, and reeking of liquor as though the contents of a cabinet had been emptied on him. She didn't relish the thought of removing his dirty boots, but it had been clear that the housekeeper wanted no part in caring for a thoroughly disreputable young man such as he was being this evening. The old woman had turned beet red at the thought of bathing him. Short of fetching his grooms to disrobe and dunk him in the bath, it left only Imogen herself. She scowled and pulled vigorously on his boot. In his startlement on waking, he kicked her and she landed on her rump.
“Fine! Take off your own boots!”
He knelt next to her, unsteady. She could feel his concern for her. “I'm sorry. Are you all right?”
She brushed at the dirt on her dress. “Not really. Do you need help taking your boots off or not?”
“I think I can manage them now.”
She stood. “Hurry, or the water will turn cold.”
She didn't look back before making her way downstairs. She typically liked thoroughly disreputable men, but this evening Robert wasn't wearing it well.
Chapter Thirteen
Staggering back down the steps, Robert admitted to himself that perhaps he had drunk a bit more than his role had required. In the past he had been the model of cool-headed assessment in such a situation. He drank enough to make himself seem a fool without actually being one. Today, however, he had gone somewhat past that and now, hours later, he could still feel his head swimming with libations.
Miss Grant was waiting for him in the kitchen near a tub of steaming water. Waiting impatiently, if her crossed arms and tight lips were any indication. But if she was disapproving of his activities of the day, all the better. He had no more interest in a relationship than she did. He tossed his garments aside and climbed in. Apparently unwilling to let him relax, she set to scrubbing him with a soapy cloth.
“I don't need-”
“I've met street urchins who looked and smelled better than you do right now.”
His stomach was still churning enough that he needed to focus on not casting up his accounts, but she took his silence as acquiescence and set
“You don't wish for supper?”
His stomach pitched at the thought. “No. Do what pleases you.”
As he let himself into his chambers he regretted for the first time that they had been sharing the space. Perhaps he should have spent the night at the village. He didn't want to remove himself to another room, as this one was perfectly oriented for a hasty escape, should it become necessary. He stood in the middle of the floor contemplating what to do when he heard a rustle. It proved to be Miss Grant, standing in the doorway.
She looked him up and down. “I'll have them prepare the bath downstairs.”
“I don't need-”
She gave him an arch look. “I'll fetch you when the water is ready.”
He sat on the chair to remove his boots, but the struggle to do so was too great and he rested his head back against the wall for a moment.
* * *
When Imogen returned Robert was asleep sitting up. People often reacted poorly when she called out the parts of themselves they sought to hide, but this was the first time she could remember a man driving himself to such a state. He had returned to the house sweaty, muddy, and reeking of liquor as though the contents of a cabinet had been emptied on him. She didn't relish the thought of removing his dirty boots, but it had been clear that the housekeeper wanted no part in caring for a thoroughly disreputable young man such as he was being this evening. The old woman had turned beet red at the thought of bathing him. Short of fetching his grooms to disrobe and dunk him in the bath, it left only Imogen herself. She scowled and pulled vigorously on his boot. In his startlement on waking, he kicked her and she landed on her rump.
“Fine! Take off your own boots!”
He knelt next to her, unsteady. She could feel his concern for her. “I'm sorry. Are you all right?”
She brushed at the dirt on her dress. “Not really. Do you need help taking your boots off or not?”
“I think I can manage them now.”
She stood. “Hurry, or the water will turn cold.”
She didn't look back before making her way downstairs. She typically liked thoroughly disreputable men, but this evening Robert wasn't wearing it well.
Chapter Thirteen
Staggering back down the steps, Robert admitted to himself that perhaps he had drunk a bit more than his role had required. In the past he had been the model of cool-headed assessment in such a situation. He drank enough to make himself seem a fool without actually being one. Today, however, he had gone somewhat past that and now, hours later, he could still feel his head swimming with libations.
Miss Grant was waiting for him in the kitchen near a tub of steaming water. Waiting impatiently, if her crossed arms and tight lips were any indication. But if she was disapproving of his activities of the day, all the better. He had no more interest in a relationship than she did. He tossed his garments aside and climbed in. Apparently unwilling to let him relax, she set to scrubbing him with a soapy cloth.
“I don't need-”
“I've met street urchins who looked and smelled better than you do right now.”
His stomach was still churning enough that he needed to focus on not casting up his accounts, but she took his silence as acquiescence and set
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