In the Barrister's Bed. Tina Gabrielle

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      Chapter 6

      “I do hope you’ll like your positions at Wyndmoor Manor.” Bella stood in the kitchen, addressing the new servants she had hired. A parlor maid, a head gardener, and a new cook stood obediently in a row, hands folded before them.

      “I look forward to your braised ham and pastries,” Bella said to the plump, middle-aged cook.

      Mrs. O’Brien bobbed a curtsy. “Thank you, Mrs. Sinclair.”

      As Bella left the new servants to settle in, she breathed a sigh of relief. Although St. Albans was close to Wyndmoor Manor, it had been challenging to find a competent cook willing to apply for the position. Bella had learned that Sir Reeves had been demanding with his palate, and during his short duration as master of the place, he had gone through no less than three cooks.

      Still, Bella felt elated to complete the task. During her marriage, she had never been permitted to hire a single servant. Other than Harriet, Roger had insisted upon complete dominion over the staff and they had been loyal only to him. Any disobedience by his young, headstrong wife had immediately been reported to her husband. Bella had quickly learned to be circumspect.

      As she made her way from the kitchen, she decided upon a walk and some fresh air. It was late afternoon, her favorite part of the day to write. Thoughts of her current political piece on social reform and the recent Cotton Factories Regulation Act ran through her mind. This is what she had desired, freedom to pen her articles in the hopes of one day getting published.

      Stopping to retrieve her notebook and a pencil, she was thankful there was no sign of the duke or his staff. She reached the vestibule when the sounds of male laughter brought her to an abrupt stop.

      She recognized the rich timbre of Blackwood’s voice coming from the library. Leave him to his business, she thought, yet an overwhelming curiosity had her walking down the hallway toward the library. Wyndmoor Manor was her home.

      Why shouldn’t she know who was present?

      Before she could knock, the library door opened, and Blackwood stepped out. He was followed by two well-dressed men.

      A gleam of interest lit his cobalt eyes when he spotted her. “Mrs. Sinclair. You are just the lady I was speaking of.”

      Bella stiffened, alarmed to have been the topic of conversation among the duke and the two strange men.

      “May I introduce my good friends and fellow legal colleagues, Mr. Anthony Stevens and Mr. Brent Stone,” Blackwood said.

      The fair-haired man stepped forward first and bowed. “I’m Mr. Stone, and it is a pleasure to meet you.”

      Bella was momentarily speechless as she gazed into a pair of crystal-blue eyes in a startlingly handsome face. Brent Stone’s high cheekbones and chiseled nose were so symmetrical, so perfect, it was as if he were a flesh-and-blood model for one of Michelangelo’s marble carvings.

      Blackwood cleared his throat and drew her attention. His eyes were narrowed, his lips a thin line, and she wondered why he suddenly appeared annoyed.

      The tallest of the three men spoke up. “The duke told us about you, Mrs. Sinclair, but I didn’t quite believe him until now.”

      She looked up at Anthony Stevens, and an involuntary tremor passed down her spine. He was a large, broad-shouldered man, with bold features and shortly cropped dark hair, but it wasn’t his size that intimidated her, rather the hard look in his pitch-black eyes that sent a warning. She suppressed the urge to cross herself.

      For a brief instant, she wondered if Anthony had a wife or a lover and if those black eyes bore the same look as Roger’s had when he ill-treated her, but then she mentally shook herself. Roger had appeared charming and kind to outsiders; this man gave the appearance of a scorpion with his tail raised ready to strike.

      He’s baiting me, wanting me to cower beneath his glare, Bella thought. Little does he know, I refuse to be intimidated by a man. My years with Roger are over.

      She tilted her head to the side and smiled. “I can only imagine what His Grace has told you about my presence here. It seems I am in need of a barrister myself. Perhaps you could recommend one for me, Mr. Stevens.”

      There was an awkward silence; then Anthony Stevens released a sharp bark of laughter. “By God, she does have spirit, Devlin! We best be on our way before one of us offers her our own legal services.”

      They made their way to the vestibule, and Coates retrieved their coats and hats.

      “We are staying at the Twin Rams should you need us, James,” Brent Stone said.

      Blackwood smiled. “I would offer you both lodgings here—”

      “That would be improper,” Brent said.

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