Highland Rogue, London Miss. Margaret Moore
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Название: Highland Rogue, London Miss
Автор: Margaret Moore
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
Серия: Mills & Boon Historical
isbn: 9781408943366
isbn:
Still he was silent as they passed the maids, who dutifully bowed their heads.
Perhaps Augustus was not a loquacious man.
MacLachlann carried her along a corridor full of portraits and paintings of landscapes, the walls behind painted sky blue, until they reached a room nearly at the end of the hall. Finally he spoke as they crossed the threshold. “This is my lady’s chamber.”
Distracted as she was being carried like an invalid, she couldn’t help noticing that it was a beautiful room. The walls were papered with a delicate design of pale green and blue, the draperies green velvet and the cherry furniture polished to a gleaming gloss.
Nevertheless, her surroundings were less important than the fact that he was still holding her in his arms. “You may put me down now.”
He did, slowly setting her on her feet. Very slowly. Her body close to his. Very close.
Suddenly his expression darkened and her heart seemed to stop beating as she wondered what she’d done.
“Who the devil are you?” he demanded, and she realized he wasn’t addressing her, but someone behind her.
She turned swiftly to see a woman in a plain gray woollen gown and white mop cap with a pillow in her hand standing on the other side of the bed curtained with pale blue silk.
She must be a maid, Esme thought, and a very pretty one, too, although not so young as Esme first supposed. She immediately hoped she didn’t have to worry about her alleged husband seducing the servants.
“I am Mrs. Llewellan-Jones, the housekeeper, my lord. I wasn’t informed you had arrived,” the woman replied with a Welsh accent as she dipped a curtsey and met MacLachlann’s genial smile with a frown.
Esme was suddenly quite sure that even if MacLachlann tried to seduce the housekeeper, Mrs. Llewellan-Jones was quite ready and able to resist him.
As she, apparently—and to her chagrin—was not.
“Ah. The solicitor hired you as well?” MacLachlann asked.
“Yes, my lord. I was recently working for Lord Raggles.”
“How is old Rags?” MacLachlann asked with one of his more charming smiles, while Esme sidled toward a huge armoire near the door.
“His lordship was quite well the last time I saw him, my lord,” Mrs. Llewellan-Jones answered evenly.
“Glad to hear it. Now if you’ll excuse us, Mrs. Jones,” he said, “my wife and I would like to rest before dinner.”
Esme darted him a sharp glance, then flushed when she saw The Look on his face.
“It’s Llewellan-Jones, my lord, and what would you like done with your baggage?”
“It can all be taken to the dressing room and unpacked—but no one should enter this room until we ring for a maid.”
Until …? What was he thinking?
“As you wish, my lord. My lady,” the housekeeper replied, her expression serene as she left the room and closed the door behind her.
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