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intended.
There was a skeleton staff, and everything was very modest.
    His first intention had been to take Catherine
to the fought-over hunting lodge, to show her what she had sold herself for,
but logic had dictated the implausibility of that, and it was too far from the
city to make it feasible. Instead he had hit on Barde House.
    In silence he rode into a small courtyard at the
side of the house, and dismounted. He led his horse to the water trough, and
turned to find Catherine had followed him, and was ready to slide down into his
arms. For one brief second, he allowed himself the pleasure of feeling her body
close to his, before he set her on her feet. That would have to wait until
later if ever.
    Catherine followed his actions, and he smiled. If only were such small words, but the
meanings were not.
    "Scott will be here any moment to take the
horses," he said. "You have met him, he is discrete, and will not
talk about us being here. Nor will anyone else. I have only a housekeeper and
her husband. You will have to accept me as lady's maid."
      She
gasped and paled.
    "You chose to ruin me, my lord? To have me
here and not chaperoned? What about my maid?"
    Brook wished he could reassure her, but he had
no intention of doing so. Also, he reasoned, to put her off balance was but a
small pleasure for him in retaliation for his perpetual state of arousal, and
his inability to do what he wanted about it.
    "You and your brother ruined you,
Catherine. As for your maid, she believes you to be in the same house as her,
but indisposed, and under doctor's orders to let no
one attend you except the housekeeper. I think of the proprieties, even though
it seems you do not. Ah, Scott." The groom
approached, and to spare Catherine, he made sure she was behind him.
"Thank you, once they are tended to you will not be required any more
today. The horses will not be needed until I send word."
    She waited until the groom had led the horses
away before turning on him.
    "What do you mean he won't be needed, and neither will the horses?" she
pulled his sleeve. "Brook, what is happening?"
    "I told you." He tucked her hand under
his. "I have a proposition. Once we are bathed and fed, I will put it to
you. Then you must decide whether you accept the proposition or pay the debt.
Now let me show you around."
    Her saw her eyes widen as he ushered her into
the elegant hall, with its carved fireplace, a fire glowing in the hearth and
warming the cooling early evening air. To one side a curved staircase flowed
upwards, its bannister a deep glowing chestnut. It
had been this room that had captured his interest on first sight, it promised
so much and delivered everything. The rest of the house followed suit.
    "You room has a bathing suite," he
remarked as he put his hand to the small of her back and propelled her toward
the stair. The shiver of awareness under his had was barely noticeable, but it gave him hope. "I can not and will not subscribe
to the idea that a splash of water and a dash of pomade is an alternative for
cleanliness."
      "Thank goodness."
    At
least she is speaking to me. I can but hope she will continue to do so. At the top of the stairs he turned along a short
corridor and opened a door. He stood back and Catherine walked past him. He
heard her delighted gasp with satisfaction. If nothing else, she liked her
room.
    “Mrs. Budle will
attend you. I will see you at dinner in an hour. Not long, I know, but we dine
informally. Then we have a lot to discuss."
    He bowed and she nodded, before she closed the
door firmly in his face. So
much for wondering if she would ask me to play lady's maid. He
smiled at his folly as he walked away.
    As Brook had deliberately chosen not to bring
his valet, his toilet was completed with little delay. A
swift bath, and an elegant, but plain set of clothing. His cravat was
tied simply and his coat fitted, but not so much that he could not dress
himself. At five and thirty, Lord Brook Fredericks was a man who