The Rake. Mary Jo Putney

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      Molly Barlow, a plump, comely widow in her forties as well as Mrs. Herald’s sister-in-law, had proved to be a good plain cook, so he had given her the position permanently. Within the next two days, she and her youngest child would move into the servants’ quarters. Reggie had eyed her with interest, but it would be poor policy to bed his own servants. He’d have to make different arrangements, perhaps in Dorchester

      Or he could invite Chessie down for a visit. He chuckled at the thought of what the county would think. Likely some of the men would recognize her, since Chessie ran one of London’s best brothels. Having her at Strickland would certainly eliminate any risk that he would be acceptable to the womenfolk of the local gentry.

      Amusement faded, and he ran his hand tiredly through his dark hair as his thoughts circled around to his improbable steward. He wasn’t really worried about burning Lady Alys’s tender ears with his language. The real danger was that he would be unable to keep his hands off the blasted woman. While Reggie found a broad range of females attractive, tall women with long legs and richly feminine figures could turn him into a softheaded imbecile. Garbed as she was this afternoon, the legs had been immediately obvious. The figure had been equally alluring.

      Under other circumstances she might have been a real find, but during their conversation, he had revised his initial impression. She might not be shy, but she was certainly a virgin. Beneath her unconventional dress and occupation, there lurked the rigid soul of a governess. She had been quite unable to repress her furious disapproval of him. Not that Reggie blamed her. If he had ruled here for years, he would be equally furious at being displaced. In her case anger was supplemented by contempt for the kind of man the new owner was.

      It would be much simpler to get rid of the woman, but he was reluctant to turn her out. She had reached her present position only through a lucky chance, and she was unlikely to find another such post. Which would be both unfair and unfortunate, because his review of the accounts had showed that the woman had a talent for her work that bordered on genius.

      Reggie had always had a knack for figures, and had deciphered an intriguing story from the account books. The previous steward had been fired by the Wargrave business manager for embezzlement. When Miss Weston took over, there had been an immediate jump in income simply through honest record keeping.

      Then the story became really interesting. The income had increased for the first two years under Lady Alys, but the profits had been canceled by heavy capital investment. In the last two years, the improvements had paid off with a sharp rise in income. Many of the expenditures were clear from the books. However, there were some cryptic entries that he intended to ask about.

      He refilled his brandy glass. Then he settled back in his chair again, thinking of that magnificent female body, and how it was wasted on a dedicated spinster. If she had been as young as her appearance suggested, there might have been some hope of teaching her what she was missing, but since she had reached the advanced age of thirty in a state of militant virginity, her attitude was unlikely to change.

      Reggie sighed and rested his head against the chair back. He didn’t doubt his ability to control his base instincts when he was sober, but if she paraded that beautiful body in front of him when he was half foxed, he might behave very badly indeed. And really, he didn’t need any more reasons to despise himself.

      Well, he was generally sober during the day, and he was unlikely to be socializing with his steward, so her virtue should be safe. However, he had had just enough brandy so that if Lady Alys were present, he might have forgotten that he was a nominal gentleman and made a most improper suggestion. Then she would box his ears, and he would need a new steward.

      He chuckled and picked up the brandy decanter to carry to his bedchamber. In his present mood, it was much more amusing to imagine what might happen if she didn’t box his ears.