people to work on the next area of grime.
"But what do you know of his background? Of his history? He could be a—"
French spy
. Then again, he wouldn't want her to wonder what he knew about French spies. "A criminal!"
She made a derisive sound. "Elliot isn't a criminal. He may be lazy and a tad spineless and more than a little vain, but he's a good man, deep down."
"How can you know that about him?"
"How can I know that about anyone? How can I know that about you?" She shrugged delicately. "I may not know Elliot, but I know his sort, and his sort is usually most trustworthy."
Marcus opened his mouth, but she held up a hand. Damn, she did have a commanding air about her sometimes.
"I can absolutely trust that Elliot will forever and always see to his own interests. Knowing that, I will be sure to never put more pressure on his fragile ethics than they can bear. Furthermore, I trust my instincts and my instincts tell me that there is more to Elliot than meets the eye."
Marcus snorted. "Of that I'm sure."
"Oh, stop. He is harmless. All a fellow like Elliot wants from life is comfort and amusement. Although it is a terrible waste for someone so intelligent…"
Hearing her praise Elliot made Marcus uncomfortable. Oh, very well, it made him want to smear Elliot's face in the muck after a prolonged and satisfying brawl, but that was simply the strain of lust—er,
waiting
building up inside him.
Furthermore, he found her reasoning faulty in the extreme. He would be sure to include her response in his report to the Three. Instincts were all well and fine, but to depend solely upon such?
Beside him, Lady Barrowby sighed. "I suppose that is all we can do today. With any luck, we'll have some rain soon. At least the cistern was covered when the sh—when the dirt rained down."
Marcus glanced over to where the large stone well pierced the yard like a squat fortress itself, well away from the privies. "You haven't modernized the manor?"
She nodded. "We've pipes to the kitchens, of course. Aldus didn't hold with piping the bathwater in. He thought it was too extravagant." She smiled at Marcus. "Men."
While Marcus himself had nothing against regular bathing, he felt compelled to defend his sex. "Well, I could see where it might become wasteful."
"More wasteful than paying three footmen to carry water buckets to the second story?" She looked down at herself in dismay. Her gown was ruined to the knees and there were streaks of unspeakables in her hair. "Which I shall have to make them do tonight—and they are so weary."
"Well, that is what you pay them f—"
She grabbed his arm and towed him away from the others. "I require something from you, Mr. Blythe-Goodman. I don't want my staff to know, for they'd insist on carrying bathwater for me, and you're the only other person I—"
Marcus tilted his head at her pause. "The only other person you what?"
She huffed an impatient breath. "Suffice it to say that I know you had no hand in—" She spread her hands. "Well, this. Yet someone did, and they might still be about."
"What about Elliot? You just said you trusted him."
She laughed. "Elliot disappeared hours ago. Hadn't you noticed?"
He hadn't. He laughed. "That's Elliot for you."
She nodded. "Precisely my earlier point. Your discretion about… this morning… leads me to trust you. Will you be my bodyguard while I bathe in the lake?"
The moon is full and swollen in the dark lapis sky. A bright path shines on the glassy lake
—
The memory of what followed those lines struck him like a fist in his gut and his mouth went very dry. He nodded jerkily and swallowed. "It would be my pleasure, my lady."
"It will be a service, Mr. Blythe-Goodman, but it will not be a pleasure. Are we quite clear on that point?" She crossed her arms, raising her bosom and causing rather more devastation to his equilibrium.
Good God, man, she's covered in privy muck!
He thought about that for a split second. Did he care?
Most decidedly not.
"But what do you know of his background? Of his history? He could be a—"
French spy
. Then again, he wouldn't want her to wonder what he knew about French spies. "A criminal!"
She made a derisive sound. "Elliot isn't a criminal. He may be lazy and a tad spineless and more than a little vain, but he's a good man, deep down."
"How can you know that about him?"
"How can I know that about anyone? How can I know that about you?" She shrugged delicately. "I may not know Elliot, but I know his sort, and his sort is usually most trustworthy."
Marcus opened his mouth, but she held up a hand. Damn, she did have a commanding air about her sometimes.
"I can absolutely trust that Elliot will forever and always see to his own interests. Knowing that, I will be sure to never put more pressure on his fragile ethics than they can bear. Furthermore, I trust my instincts and my instincts tell me that there is more to Elliot than meets the eye."
Marcus snorted. "Of that I'm sure."
"Oh, stop. He is harmless. All a fellow like Elliot wants from life is comfort and amusement. Although it is a terrible waste for someone so intelligent…"
Hearing her praise Elliot made Marcus uncomfortable. Oh, very well, it made him want to smear Elliot's face in the muck after a prolonged and satisfying brawl, but that was simply the strain of lust—er,
waiting
building up inside him.
Furthermore, he found her reasoning faulty in the extreme. He would be sure to include her response in his report to the Three. Instincts were all well and fine, but to depend solely upon such?
Beside him, Lady Barrowby sighed. "I suppose that is all we can do today. With any luck, we'll have some rain soon. At least the cistern was covered when the sh—when the dirt rained down."
Marcus glanced over to where the large stone well pierced the yard like a squat fortress itself, well away from the privies. "You haven't modernized the manor?"
She nodded. "We've pipes to the kitchens, of course. Aldus didn't hold with piping the bathwater in. He thought it was too extravagant." She smiled at Marcus. "Men."
While Marcus himself had nothing against regular bathing, he felt compelled to defend his sex. "Well, I could see where it might become wasteful."
"More wasteful than paying three footmen to carry water buckets to the second story?" She looked down at herself in dismay. Her gown was ruined to the knees and there were streaks of unspeakables in her hair. "Which I shall have to make them do tonight—and they are so weary."
"Well, that is what you pay them f—"
She grabbed his arm and towed him away from the others. "I require something from you, Mr. Blythe-Goodman. I don't want my staff to know, for they'd insist on carrying bathwater for me, and you're the only other person I—"
Marcus tilted his head at her pause. "The only other person you what?"
She huffed an impatient breath. "Suffice it to say that I know you had no hand in—" She spread her hands. "Well, this. Yet someone did, and they might still be about."
"What about Elliot? You just said you trusted him."
She laughed. "Elliot disappeared hours ago. Hadn't you noticed?"
He hadn't. He laughed. "That's Elliot for you."
She nodded. "Precisely my earlier point. Your discretion about… this morning… leads me to trust you. Will you be my bodyguard while I bathe in the lake?"
The moon is full and swollen in the dark lapis sky. A bright path shines on the glassy lake
—
The memory of what followed those lines struck him like a fist in his gut and his mouth went very dry. He nodded jerkily and swallowed. "It would be my pleasure, my lady."
"It will be a service, Mr. Blythe-Goodman, but it will not be a pleasure. Are we quite clear on that point?" She crossed her arms, raising her bosom and causing rather more devastation to his equilibrium.
Good God, man, she's covered in privy muck!
He thought about that for a split second. Did he care?
Most decidedly not.
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