The Rogue by Arpan B

brought the kitten to his chest and tucked it into his
waistcoat—but only because his arms were growing tired. A loud
rattling purr erupted from the scant little thing.
    "I
hope you don't expect me to give you the best pillow, or buy you
liver, or…" What else did one do to spoil a cat?
    He'd
have to ask around.

Chapter
Nine
    « ^ »

    Ethan
woke up to the smell of something heavenly beneath his nose.
Breakfast was usually not a happy event for him, so he waited for the
customary morning-after queasiness to surge.
    Instead,
his stomach growled voraciously. He cracked one eye open the tiniest
possible slit. Oddly, the morning light did not slice into his brain
like a knife. Ethan raised one hand to his head, but there was no
pounding there at all.
    His
stomach made another, less polite request. Damn, something smelled
good. Opening both eyes was rewarded by the sight of a tray at his
bedside, silver covers fogging slightly at the edges from the
steaming delights within.
    The
kitten sat on the table beside it, stringy tail daintily curled about
its feet, wide green eyes fixed on its own image reflected in the
gleaming silver.
    Ethan
sat up quickly and reached for the tray. Before he could pick it up,
Jeeves appeared in the edges of his hunger-focused vision and placed
the tray upon Ethan's lap for him. The kitten reared onto hind legs,
pawing at Jeeves's cuff links as they passed over its head.
    The
lifting of the silver domes was enough to do in a lesser man. Eggs,
coddled to perfection and steaming from beneath their sheen of fine
sweet butter. Sausages posing seductively at the edge, like plump
thighs slightly parted. Caramelized pears gleamed at him from
another, smaller plate, winking shyly in their sweet glaze, and
wickedly black coffee appeared in a fine china cup to round out the
trio of tantalization.
    Delighted,
Ethan grinned up at Jeeves. "Who knew breakfast could be so
provocative?"
    Jeeves
raised a brow. "Everyone who stops at one brandy the night
before, sir."
    Ethan
gestured with his fork at the ready. "You may have a point."
Then he hesitated. "Jeeves, who made this?"
    Jeeves
folded his hands before him. "You need not worry, sir. There is
a new cook in residence." Reassured, Ethan ate.
    The
food was magnificent. Ethan stopped stuffing his face long enough to
inquire, "You found someone so quickly?"
    Jeeves
maintained an innocent expression. "I hired one first thing
yesterday morning."
    "Appalling
efficiency, Jeeves," Ethan muttered. "I thought we talked
about that."
    "Yes,
sir. I shall endeavor to improve."
    "Have
you found me another tattooed sailor then, Jeeves?"
    "No,
sir. The lady has no visible tattoos, nor has she shown any
propensity to swear."
    Ethan
blinked. "A woman? In this house?"
    "Yes,
sir. You seem upset, sir. Do you by chance possess an allergy?"
    Ethan
swallowed. "She isn't by any chance… young, is she?"
    "Oh
no, sir. She is quite satisfactorily middle-aged. Although I pray you
do not repeat that, sir. I do so enjoy my coddled eggs in the
morning."
    A
bit of sausage evaded Ethan and rolled from the plate. The kitten
flew across the counterpane in a flash of ginger to snap it up.
    Ethan
laughed. "Look at that! Like a bolt of lightning from the hand
of Zeus himself!"
    Jeeves
scooped the kitten up in one hand. The little creature sent a pink
tongue across his whiskers while keeping his gaze fixed on Ethan's
plate, alert for more escaping sausage.
    "I
think the young master might prefer a saucer of milk in the kitchen,
sir," Jeeves said, as if he did not have a handful of squirming
fur.
    Ethan
shook his head. "The young master can eat with the old master.
I'll give him some cream from my tray." He went back to his
pears. "Be sure to tell Cook—"
    Jeeves
cleared his throat. "Might I suggest, sir—as she is a
respectable woman of great talent—that you address her as 'Mrs.
Cook,' at the least?"
    "Mrs.
Cook, it is," Ethan announced. "You may tell Mrs. Cook that
these are the best bloody eggs