The chaos of the kitchen did little to dull Verushka’s nerves and when Liara found her she was wedged between a sack of barley and a cask of wine rocking herself back and forth.
“Verushka!” Liara exclaimed.“What in all of Christendom are you doing? Didn't you hear about the banquet this evenin’? You should be at the markets buying provisions!”
It was at that moment that Mina came flying down the hallway, as she was want to do, screeching in her own melodious tones. Mina smacked straight into Liara’s back who then propelled forward to land on the floor just short of the wine cask.
“Verushka! You will never guess what I heard,” Mina said breathlessly, ignoring Liara’s splayed form on the floor. “Janice, the upstairs maid told Mary the pastry chef that she saw a beautiful Italian lady leaving Lord Bexley's chamber late last night, and early this mornin’ there was a terrible mess. I can’t begin to imagine what they got up to. Did you hear anything?” Mina asked as she finally paused to draw breath.
“Hey! Can’t you see something's wrong with Verushka?” Liara cut Mina off and pointed to the wide eyed girl in the corner.
“What?” Mina queried. “ I thought she was just having another nap before lunch.”
Mina crouched down and laid a gentle but unwashed hand on Verushka and asked, “What's wrong sweety? Did Cook yell at you again?”
Verushka’s grey eyes, round like saucers, blinked once before she replied reluctantly, “I did something,” she paused again to pick breakfast meat out of her hair. “I think... Lord Bexley... might tell Cook I did something.....naughty.” She stuttered.
“Oh, that's right,” Mina caught on, “You went to give him his breakfast. What on earth could be so very bad?” Mina may have been the best tree climber of all the servants, but was perhaps a little naive at heart.
Liara began to laugh as she sprawled more comfortably on the floor. “Wow, never thought you had it in you. Good work Verushka! I'm so proud– now tell us all about it.”
“No!” Verushka almost shouted, “It wasn’t like that. I made a mess and dropped his breakfast. And he was sleeping, but then he got up and I saw him... well... naked.” Verushka finished.
Liara’s head shot up so fast Mina was shocked it was still attached to her body. “What? Oh- my-goodness! Tell me ALL about it. What did he look like? Was he gorgeous? Did he smell like sin? What did he feel like?”Liara bombarded her with questions as she crawled over to grasp Verushka’s skirts like she was preparing for the world’s best bedtime story.
Verushka’s brow furrowed, “He looked, well to be honest, just utterly handsome, so yes to the second question; I don’t even think that’s a scent to the third, and I have no idea to the fourth!"
“How did you go so near such an incredible Rake and not touch it?!” Liara asked genuinely shocked.
“Oh please, maybe because she at least is not an English harlot.” Mina said rolling her eyes.
Verushka rose from her corner with as much grace as possible for one who had spent the better part of a quarter hour squeezed into a pantry crevice. “And he is not an IT! Lord Bexley is a nobleman and the Master of this household so Liara you need to not, I repeat NOT run to feed the gossip mill more grist.”
Liara laid back sensuously against a flour sack. “Dear Verushka, that was not the ‘it’ I was referring to,” she said with a smile equally as seductive as her inference.
Realisation was just dawning in Verushka’s eyes when all three girls heard Madam Shiela’s bellow from the kitchen, “Where are those girls?! And why haven’t I got the provisions for Afternoon tea and Supper yet?”
Verushka cringed.
“They will be the death of me,” Madam Shiela continued softly, paused, then let out a mighty roar. “I know you can hear me- I better get those ingredients within the next hour or you’ll be cleaning out the pig’s sty with Geoffrey!”
Verushka caught Liara’s gaze who looked genuinely scared.
None of the girls thought it necessary for Madam Shiela to add with a scowl, “And you’ll be sleeping there too!” as she slammed the oven door shut.
***
The Duke of Bexley, or Scot as he was known to his friends loosened the silk cravat at his neck. It had been some time since he had left the Bexley family town house and made his way to his favourite tailor.
It’s so good to be back, he reflected. There is a comfort in the warmth of family and friends that I sorely missed in Rome, he thought as a smile ghosted across his lips.
“Cain!” A loud voice boomed from the shop front, and a tall, very well built man entered in stylish but somewhat commonplace clothes.
“My God” Scot blasphemed, still shocked into stillness.
The youngish man approached and shook Scot’s hand firmly but his eyes were warm, “It has been too long” he said.
“Almost five years” Scot replied. “My God Jacob, how are you?”
“Fine, fine,” Jacob brushed off the serious mood, “and no need for all that; you have always called me Jay, no need to stand on ceremony now. I’m certainly not addressing you as Cain, the Duke of Bexley.” Jay laughed quietly as he fell into an armchair by the window so he could stare out at the passers-by. “Or is it Scot now?” Jay inquired. “Rumour has it that you have crossed the border with your name, although someone failed to remind you that the seat of your family is in England.”
Scot laughed and nodded, “Yes, it’s true. While I was in Rome I became so accustomed to the nickname I’m now loathe to change it.”
Jay grimaced, “What a sad day for an Englishman to bend to pressure from the north, but I acquiesce to your poor choice.”
Scot raised an eyebrow, “It is certainly a good deal more pleasant that some of the things I’ve heard you call me.”
Jay let out a short laugh of remembrance, “Oh, I think I could dredge up a few with some effort.”
“Don’t strain yourself on my account old friend.” And the ice was broken. Scot found himself laughing too.
Beneath the courtesies Scot was actually overwhelmed. For so many long years away from England, in the blink of an eye, here he was running a simple dressmaker errand and with as much ease as striking a match, his closest friend from Eton was back in his life. Just like that, on the whim and fancy of Fate herself.
Scot moved to try on a black waistcoat and threw a glance at Jay, “You should join us for dinner tonight.”
“Of course,” Jay replied. “It’s been a while since I have seen your lovely mother. She always made the best treacle pudding.”
Scot snorted, “Hah! You know as well as I do that the Lady of Bexley never baked a day in her life and the only reason you enjoy her company so much is your secret penchant for idle female gossip.”
Jay lay back in the seat and adjusted the drapes slightly to redirect the morning sun. “Unfair... and untrue,” he murmured.”
“No fear, old friend,” Scot reassured him. “I won’t tell a soul. I have my own secrets if you’ll recall,” he smirked.
A faint smile traced Jay’s mouth, “I recall your head in a chamber pot on more nights than one.”
“So we’ll agree to live our lives shrouded in secrecy?” Scot said as he turned to face Jay.
Jay merely looked at him and answered with more seriousness than Scot thought the situation warranted, and replied “Yes, ... yes we will.”
Scot would have questioned him if the tailor, an old balding man, had not chosen that moment to scurry in with bundles of blue and chartreuse linen ready to be pinned, muttering something about the latest fashions. “Oh,I’m sure you’ll catch a fine young lady in these garments my Lord,” the be-speckled man rambled on.
“Looking for a bride are you Scot?” Jay piped in.
Scots reply was sharp and to the point, “Definitely not.”
Jay continued as if Scot hadn’t spoken, “Rumour has it,friend, that you are courting a buxom Italian opera singer with a flair for the decadent arts.”
Scot huffed, “I think courting is slightly too strong a word.”
Jay smiled that masculine knowing smile of a man in allegiance with another over the bedding of a beautiful woman.
Scot turned back to the multitude of dinner coats, breeches, slacks and waistbands. He thought the ridiculous conversation dropped until Jay asked some moments later, “So, there is no pretty young virgin threatening to consume your thoughts?”
For some strange reason an image of the morning maid flashed into Scot’s mind. Her huge eyes and luscious lips slightly parted as he walked towards her in his bedchamber. Scot had to physically give his head a shake to dislodge the image. It was most unlike him to toy with the house staff- he preferred the slightly older, experienced women like Zarina, and the maid this morning was most definitely not a diamond of the first water. He doubted she would be a diamond of dishwater...and yet... he frowned.
A soft chuckle interrupted his melancholy. “Ah, so there is someone.” Jay stood to amble slowly to the open shop door and watch the carriages idly go by. “So tell me, does she have a friend?”
**End Chapter 3**
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