Snowbound With the Notorious Rake Read Free

need somewhere to sleep,’ said Rose, casting an enquiring glance at Sir Lawrence.
    ‘There’s plenty of space above the stables, but the scullery boy has a bed in the small room off the kitchen—behind the fireplace. You might be more comfortable there.’ Lawrence paused as another icy blast spattered against the window. ‘You would certainly be warmer.’
    ‘Aye, I spotted the bed.’ Evans nodded. ‘I’ll settle down there, if you’ve no objection.’
    ‘Just make sure you take your boots off before you climb between the sheets,’ Rose warned him and earned a pained look.
    ‘I’s lived in a gennleman’s ’ouse for long enough to know that ,’ the groom retorted.
    Lawrence strode across the room and lifted the lid of a small black cooking pot balanced on the hob. An appetising aroma filled the room.
    ‘I guessed this was for your supper, sir,’ remarked Evans, ‘so I put it in the flames to heat up.’
    ‘Yes, my housekeeper, Mrs Brendon, said she had left something for me. Hmm. Not much for three of us.’ He went into the larder and began to investigate the pots and tubs kept there. ‘There’s a little bread, and a ham—plenty of rice and flour—and a basket of vegetables. Oh, and lemons.’
    Rose had found an apron and tied it over her gown. She picked up a wooden spoon and gave the soup a stir.
    ‘Is there a hen house?’
    ‘Why, yes,’ said Lawrence, backing out of the larder. ‘I believe there is, on the far side of the yard.’
    ‘Then there may be an egg or two, even at this time of the year. Perhaps you would go and fetch them.’
    Sir Lawrence’s black brows went up.
    ‘Me?’
    Rose gave him an innocent smile. ‘I would ask Evans, or course, but I need him to fetch in more peat for the kitchen fire.’ She held out a small basket. ‘You may need this.’
    Without a word Sir Lawrence took the basket and slouched out of the room.
    ‘I could’ve done that and fetched in the peat, Miss Rose,’ opined Evans, when the door had closed again.
    ‘I am sure you could,’ murmured Rose, stirring the soup. ‘But it will do Sir Lawrence no harm to cool his—er—head out of doors for a while.’
     
    Lawrence pulled his hat a little lower over his face and tucked his chin into his muffler as he bent into the wind that howled across the yard, throwing icy needles of snow against his cheeks. Damnation, he had been looking forward to a quiet evening, drinking copious amounts of wine and perhaps helping himself to a little soup and bread before he went to bed. Now all that had changed and he was obliged to find enough food for his visitors.
    He wished it had been a man at the door; then they might have enjoyed a drink together, perhaps played at cards and made do with the ham and cheese from the larder. Or even a lightskirt—that would have been entertaining! Instead he was saddled with a respectable widow who looked set to take over his kitchen. One, moreover, who expected him to work for his supper! A laugh shook him. This was not how he had envisaged spending his Christmas!
     
    Half an hour later Sir Lawrence was back in the kitchen, shrugging himself out of his greatcoat.
    Rose counted the eggs in the basket.
    ‘Half a dozen, how clever of you to find so many, and in the dark, too!’
    ‘Thank you, ma’am.’
    She glanced up at him, her eyes alight with laughter.
    ‘Oh dear, do I sound as if I am talking to a child? Forgive me, but you remind me very much of my own little boy.’
    Lawrence almost winced. A masterly set-down, designed to put him firmly in his place! He looked around the kitchen.
    ‘Where is Evans?’
    ‘I sent him to the drawing room with more logs. I thought we should eat there; I had a quick peep in your dining room, but it is so cold it would take for ever to warm up.’
    ‘You are willing to risk dining alone with me?’
    ‘It cannot be helped. Poor Evans would not eat a thing if we imposed ourselves upon him here in the kitchen. I shall have to trust you to