A Rumored Engagement. Lily George

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СКАЧАТЬ again. “Are you sure, Baxter?”

      “Quite sure. I do have your breakfast tray. Cook sent up bacon and eggs.” The mattress squeaked in protest as Baxter set the tray down.

      “Oh, all right.” Daniel slowly pushed himself to a sitting position, holding his head as still as he possibly could. Perhaps a little bacon would ease the throbbing of his brain. “Don’t open the curtains, I beg you.”

      “As you wish.” Baxter stood at the end of the bed, facing his master expectantly as Daniel pulled the breakfast tray into his lap.

      “Well?” Daniel bit into a slice of bacon. The smoky taste of it gave him an uncertain moment. He’d either toss his accounts or be hale and hearty in a few seconds. He chewed carefully, waiting to see which way his body would react.

      “Mr. Donaldson is here, waiting in the parlor. Your estate manager.” Baxter coughed again, and Daniel shot him a rueful glance under his brows. That sound was like nails on glass, especially after one had imbibed a bit too much the night before. “I told him that you were having a bit of a late start but that you would meet with him within the hour. He has some account books, which I gave him leave to spread out on the table.”

      Account books. Estate managers. Parlors. His head gave another painful throb, and he bit slowly into the bacon once more. He was doing better, but still—the thought of meeting anyone to discuss business right now put him off. “Did I have an appointment with him?”

      “You did, sir. I mentioned it to you yesterday, when Mr. Paul was here.”

      “I don’t remember much of anything after Paul arrived, Baxter.” There had been a lot of scotch, hilarious conversation and japes, of course. But practical conversations? No, he didn’t recall a word. “Well, let the man cool his heels in the parlor. I’ll have a bit more breakfast and make myself presentable. This bacon is just what I needed.” He sipped at his tea, a potent, bitter brew so strong that the tannin left a film on his tongue. Bracing was not the word for Cook’s tea. No, she boiled it for so long that you could use it to scrub the decks of a ship. Perfect.

      “Very good. Mr. Paul is still sleeping in the guest room. Shall I awaken him?”

      “Don’t be absurd. That fellow has no responsibilities, no estate agents waiting upon him. Let him sleep it off. I’ll meet him later, at dinner.”

      Baxter bowed and quit the room, shutting the door with a decisive snap. Daniel took another burning sip of tea and struggled to remember all that happened after Paul came over. What had they done? They’d spoken of Susannah and her sisters....

      The throbbing in his head was easing. Now it just felt like annoying little birds giving his head an occasional peck.

      Well, he couldn’t very well sit here forever. Donaldson was downstairs waiting. He’d only communicated with the fellow a few times by letter—never met him in person. Why was Donaldson here, after all? He was the expert on running the place. Daniel knew nothing of managing a farm.

      He pushed the tray aside and sat up, every movement a small agony. Baxter had laid his clothes out for him—the typical country squire attire. Breeches, shirt, jacket. Cravat. Bother the cravat; he was not in the mood to be slowly choked by a piece of fabric today. He tugged and pulled, getting dressed to boots but draping his jacket over the chair as he strolled to the washbasin. The thing fit so tightly that it was impossible to properly wash one’s face with it on.

      He gazed in the looking glass, running his hand over the rough stubble on his chin. He needed a shave, and the bags under his eyes spoke volumes about last night. When Donaldson left, he’d enjoy a nice hot bath and a shave. That would be his reward for making it through this meeting when he would much rather sleep.

      He splashed tepid water in the washbasin and lathered his hands with a cake of soap. He paused. This wasn’t his usual soap, the one that smelled of fresh green herbs. What on earth was this?

      He paused, breathing deeply for a moment.

      Orange blossom.

      Just like Susannah.

      The certainty of what he’d done yesterday speared through him. Paul had dared him. Dared him to send something nice to his sweetheart. And he’d ordered a huge hamper of food to be delivered to the Siddons girls because Susy had been so hungry when he saw her last.

      He groaned, rubbing his damp palms over his eyes—but as he drew them away, he could smell nothing but orange blossoms and could think of nothing but Susannah. Would she be offended by his gift? She would be if she’d known that it was done as a dare.

      The sick feeling that had begun to ease over breakfast now hit him, full force, in the gut. He clenched the side of the basin and bowed his head.

      When the room stopped spinning a bit, he trusted himself to make it over to the bellpull. In short order, Baxter entered the room. “Yes, sir?”

      “Why do I have orange blossom soap?” Daniel jerked his head toward the basin and pitcher.

      “The maid must have made a mistake. Usually we have your bay rum.” Baxter crossed over to the basin and picked up the offensive bar. “I’ll have it changed out.”

      “See that you do. Orange blossom is far too feminine for a chap.” Daniel rubbed his brow. How best to broach the next subject?

      “Donaldson is waiting, sir. Are you on your way down?” Baxter stood, soap tucked discreetly in his fist, beside the basin. “Is there anything else you need?”

      Yes. He needed just a little more information—just some insight into how great of a fool he had been last night. “Did I order a hamper of food to be sent to the village?”

      “You did. The basket was delivered by Nancy in time for supper.”

      Daniel suppressed a groan. There was nothing he could do now. It was too late—the hamper had already made it to the Siddonsesʼ home. The girls had either partaken of its contents or—as was more likely—it was now floating in a nearby stream, chucked there by an angry and proud Susannah.

      Fine. He would go meet with Donaldson and then he’d have to think of a way to make amends. He’d have to cut back on his drinking with Paul tonight, and he’d have to watch his friend closely from now on, when it came to accepting dares. After all, Paul thought it was a fantastic joke that he and Susannah had been engaged. But it was no laughing matter.

      He shut off his thoughts with a click. After all, if he stood there brooding, he’d need a drink. And once he started drinking he lost all sense of reason. And he needed all his wits about him if he was going to find a way out of this mess. “I’m on my way out now,” he informed his butler, his tone rough and brusque.

      He quit the room, striding down the stairs with purposeful steps. When he flung open the parlor door, Donaldson glanced up from a stack of books, an expectant look on his face.

      “You must be Mr. Donaldson.” Daniel offered his hand. “Good to meet you in person. I’m afraid I haven’t had time before, but now...” He trailed off. He really had no excuse at the ready for his lack of interest in the Hall. Not when his head was pounding and his wits had flown.

      “Yes, sir.” Donaldson shook his hand but then bowed respectfully. “I am grateful for the chance to meet with you at last.”

      “Well, СКАЧАТЬ