Daughter of Darkness by Janet Woods Page A

come to him once the brandy fumes had cleared from his brain. Instead, he mumbled as he scratched his beard. ‘She is no longer a child.’
    Brian allowed himself a small smile at his master’s expense. ‘That she’s not, sir.’
    ‘How long is it since I arrived home?’
    ‘It’s been six days, sir. New year has come and gone two days since.’
    ‘Six days?’ Gerard shook his head as he mounted the frisky stallion. No wonder the woman was out of countenance with him. Despite his aching head his lips curved into a smile. The wench he’d married had a fiery temper when pushed to it.
    ‘Stop fussing.’ Gerard grimly surveyed himself in his dressing mirror. His black breeches were fashioned from finest wool, the silver knee buckles matched the braided edging of his coat. Rodgers had insisted he wear a pearl grey watered-silk waistcoat that matched the color of his hose. His black silver-buckled shoes were polished to perfection. His stock and ruffles were spotlessly white. Running a hand over his strangely naked chin he grunted in approval. ‘You certainly know your job.’
    ‘Thank you, My Lord.’ Rodgers gazed despairingly at his master’s dark mane of hair. ‘If you would just allow me powder it, sir.’
    ‘No powder.’ Gerard seated himself. ‘The damned stuff makes me sneeze.’ Despite the ride his head still ached. By the time Rodgers had fashioned his pigtail into a black silk sheath, his skull was throbbing like a drum. ‘Whoever that is, send away,’ he said as knuckles rapped at his door. ‘I see no one until I receive my father’s blessing.’
    Rodgers returned carrying a tray set with bread, ham and cheese. A jug steaming with an aroma of hot chocolate was set next to a glass containing opaque liquid. Rodgers immediately set the glass in front of him.
    ‘What’s that?’ He eyed it suspiciously as he set about his breakfast.
    ‘An infusion of feverfew to relieve your headache.’ Rodgers couldn’t quite hide his grin. ‘Lady Sommersley prepared and brought it herself.’
    Aware her ironic action would set the servant’s tongues wagging, his gaze narrowed on Rodgers. The grin slid away to nothing. ‘Tell me, Rodgers… does the mistress of the house often assume the duties of serving maid?’
    ‘Due to the epidemic the staff is considerably reduced I believe,’ Rodger’s murmured, trying not to sound unctuous. ‘I understand Lady Sommersley is held in high esteem by the servants and is respected for her compassion.’
    ‘No doubt she is if she’s performing their duties.’ Gerard sipped cautiously at the infusion his wife had prepared. Although the brew had been made tolerable with the addition of honey it had bitter undertones. He wouldn’t put it past her to poison him after the way he’d treated her earlier. Swallowing it in two gulps, he grimaced before rising to his feet. This wife of his had suddenly become a paradox. He couldn’t equate this saintly being with a woman who carried a dagger she was prepared to use.
    He shook his head, preferring not to think about it. Despite breakfast and a several cups of chocolate his head wasn’t up to it. ‘Tell Mrs. Breton to review the servant situation with Lady Sommersley, then attend me in my father’s study on the morrow. I’ll pick up some staff at the next hiring fair in Dorchester.’
    His headache began to recede as the infusion began to take effect. There were advantages in having a wife, he thought with some surprise, and wondered where she’d acquired her skill with herbal remedies. ‘I don’t suppose… ‘ He stopped himself asking just in time. There was no need to parade his ignorance in front of a servant. He would visit his grandmother after he’d received his father’s blessing. His wife’s name was bound to crop up in conversation sooner or later.
    When he reached his father’s room he hesitated in the doorway and surveyed the scene. On one side of the sickbed stood his wife. On the other, a muscular