Molly gripped the silver tray tightly as she hurried down the hall. Though the food needed to arrive warm, it wouldnât do to spill the masterâs breakfast. She was newly come to Ashford Hall, and wanted to make a good impression. Fortunately, the door she sought was just ahead. Reaching her destination, she balanced the tray precariously with one hand and quietly rapped on the door.
Through the door she heard an indistinct bellow, then the door swung open. A handsome young man with blond hair and green eyes stood in the doorway. Surely this couldnât be the master. Though he was impeccably dressed, he lacked the arrogance sheâd already come to associate with the aristocracy. Molly surmised that this was his lordshipâs valet. He put his finger to his lips and then stepped back to allow her to enter the room.
The suite was a disaster. She nearly tripped over a pair of shining Hessian boots as she walked across the room, looking for a place to set the tray. Every available surface was covered with trunks and bandboxes, all of them overflowing with cravats, hose and other items of masculine clothing. As she stood there, bewildered, the valet tiptoed over to the enormous four-poster bed in the middle of the room.
âBreakfast, my lord,â he whispered.
âDonâ wanâ any!â came the reply from a covered lump on the bed.
Molly just stood there, holding her tray, unsure of what to do. Finally, the valet came over and scooped a pile of clothing off a cherrywood writing desk, accidentally knocking an inkwell to the floor. Another loud bellow, this time quite clear, came from the bed.
âPlunkett! Quit that infernal racket!â
On the heels of this exclamation, two pillows from the bed came sailing across the room. The valet, burdened only by his masterâs clothing, was quick enough, or experienced enough, to step out of the way. Molly, however, was not so lucky. Both of the pillows crashed into the tray she held, sending tea and scones flying to the floor. The crash of breaking china seemed to further enrage the figure on the bed.
âBy all the saints and sinners! Get out!â
Apparently deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, the valet beat a hasty retreat, still clutching his masterâs clothes. Molly froze for a moment, then knelt quietly and began picking the remnants of the masterâs breakfast off the floor. If she left a puddle of tea and porcelain on the floor, thereâd be hell to pay from Mrs. Hutchins.
âAre you deaf, gel?â
Molly tried to ignore the commanding voice and continued using her apron to mop up the tea.
âYou must be deaf.â
Molly took a deep breath, stood up and turned to face her master, who was now sitting up in bed, and nearly stumbled as her knees went weak. He was as beautiful as an angel, well, a fallen angel maybe, with his long dark hair and fiercely slanted eyebrows. Even from across the room, his flashing blue eyes seemed to bore a hole straight through her.
She summoned up her courage enough to reply, âNo, my lord.â
âWell, then, since weâve established that Mrs. Hutchins has not taken to employing deaf-mutes in my household, I must assume that you are just stupid!â
âI beg your pardon, my lord.â
âI said, âGet out!ââ
âYes, my lord, butâ¦â
He arched one of his perfect eyebrows at her. Molly swallowed nervously and then blurted, âBegging your pardon, my lord, but Mrs. Hutchins would turn me off if I left a mess in your lordshipâs room.â
âArenât you afraid Iâll turn you off myself, gel?â
âYes, my lord.â Molly bowed her head, staring at her shoes, waitingâ¦hoping he wouldnât sack her.
âFine, fine, you may clean it up,â he said, waving a hand idly at the mess.
âItâll just take me a moment, my lord, and then Iâll bring you another tray,â she told him.
ââSâtruth, gel, I didnât even want the first one.â He sat back in the bed and promptly banged his head on the wooden headboard. âBloody hell!â
Molly thought privately that her new master was altogether too fond of cursing. He swears like a tar, she thought, although truthfully, Molly had yet to meet a sailor, swearing or otherwise. Though there was a smithy in the village who was well-known for his colorful cursing. Still, the master hadnât sacked her, so who cared if he swore or not? She grabbed the pillows off the floor. Luckily, they had missed the strawberry jam, and there didnât seem to be any tea stains on them. She hurried over to the bed. âHere, my lord, please allow me.â
He sat back up, and allowed her to tuck the pillows behind his head. The coverlet fell slightly as he moved, further exposing his broad shoulders and well-muscled chest. Molly felt a tingle between her legs as she stared at his perfect physique. As she adjusted the pillows, her breast accidentally brushed against his upper arm. A spark seemed to leap between them, and she quickly pulled back. But before she could step away, he grabbed her wrist. âHow is it that Iâve not seen you before?â he asked.