In place of his left hand was a highly polished bright brass hook.
“Good lord, pirates have taken over your father’s house!” Gillian yelled, snatching her son back and pushing him behind her in a protective gesture. “What have you done with my husband, you reprehensible, dastardly brute? By all that’s holy, if you’ve harmed him, I’ll do you bodily injury!”
The giant’s scowl deepened. A gold hoop hanging from his ear swung gently as he shook his head at her. “I ’aven’t done nuthin’ to ’is lordship, lady, I works for ’im. Ain’t much ye could do to me, either, ’cept maybe to rabbit an’ pork me to death.”
He took a step toward her and waved the menacing hook in her face. Rabbit and pork? Why was the huge, behooked pirate meandering on about supper at a time like this?
The giant gave Gillian a look that could only be described as disgruntled. “Ain’t no one mentioned supper, missis, nor meanderin’ fer that matter, whatever that might be. If’n ye don’t want to feel the flat of me ’and on yer bottle and glass, ye’d best be quick with tellin’ me who ye is, and what ye want with ’is lordship. I don’t ’ave all day to natter with ye, no matter how fetchin’ ye are.”
Gillian’s stomach contracted into a ball roughly the size of a runtish walnut. The barbarian was threatening to do some physical harm to her, of that much she was sure, even if she was confused by his sudden reference to bottles and such. Well, he certainly was due for a stern lecture about his manners with guests. She was convinced Noble had no idea his pirate was answering the door in such a surly manner.
“I am Lady Weston. Please stand aside and allow my son and me to enter our house.”
The pirate looked taken aback for a moment or two. His massive black brows actually retreated to either side of his forehead as he carefully studied Gillian, absently rubbing his jaw with the wickedly sharp end of his hook. She watched the tip of it, mesmerized. “Well, I’ll be blowed! The Duchess of Fife!”
Gillian frowned at him. Although she didn’t, as a rule, approve of employing pirates to answer one’s door, he was now a member of her staff and, as such, she was responsible for his well-being, both physical and moral. It was obvious to her that worry over his unfortunate infirmity had caused some damage to his mental state. Keeping this fact in mind, she corrected him in a gentle voice. “No, the Countess of Weston. I’m Lord Weston’s wife. Gillian, Lady Weston, to be precise.”
“That’s what I said. Yer ’is lordship’s trouble and strife.”
Gillian forgot to be mindful of his defective mental humors and bristled at the uncalled for accusation. “We’ve only been married one day, sir; I hardly feel that gives me time to be of any trouble to Lord Weston, let alone cause him strife. And whether or not I am, that is certainly none of your affair. You will cease making such ridiculous and completely unjustified judgments and allow me to pass by your large and, I regret to say, uncouth person.”
The giant looked confused. “Don’t get yerself riled up now, m’lady. I wasn’t makin’ no judgments against ye.”
“You said I was nothing but trouble and strife!”
“Aye, and ye are. Trouble and strife. Gooseberry puddin’.”
“Pudding! Did you just call me a pudding?”
“Aye, gooseberry puddin’!” The scowl was back on the pirate’s face as he shook his hook at Gillian. “Are ye daft, woman?”
Gillian took exception to his manner of debate on the front steps. This was not how she had envisioned making her entrance in her new home, in front of her new staff. “I am not the daft one here, Mr. Pirate. Will you please stop waving that thing in my face? Didn’t your mother ever teach you it was impolite to point your hook at others?”
The giant gawked at her, a dull red washing over his cheeks.
“That’s better. You should be more careful with that — that — apparatus. You could put someone’s eye out with it. Now please move aside, and then you may explain your propensity to speak in riddles.”
“Er…if I might intercede, my lady. He means you’re his lordship’s wife. Trouble and strife, gooseberry pudding, and Duchess of Fife are all popular cant used to mean wife.” A short, round man pushed the behemoth aside and bowed at what would be his waist if he weren’t shaped like an orange. “I’m Devereaux, Lady Weston, your husband’s man of affairs. Welcome to Britton House. I wasn’t aware that Lord Weston was expecting you, however I’m sure the news merely slipped his mind.”
As he spoke, the dapper little man waved her and Nick around the now mute gargantuan, politely escorting them into an oak-paneled hallway. Gillian gave the pirate a good glare to let him know she was not happy with him, then peeled off her gloves and looked around her. The hall was tastefully paneled in a warm honey oak, and had the loveliest parquet floor she’d ever seen.
“You must forgive Crouch, my lady. He meant no harm; he was as taken aback as I was by your unexpected, albeit welcome, arrival.”
Nick was standing next to the looming colossus, admiration clearly evident in his eyes as he watched the man nonchalantly pull out a cloth and, spitting on the hook, polish it with a grand gesture. Gillian was aware of her stepson’s approving eyes and made a mental note to discuss the impropriety of expectorating in public, let alone doing so upon one’s personal apparatus.
“Indeed. Well, Mr. Devereaux, would you please take me to Lord Weston? I shall discuss Crouch’s behavior with the butler at a later time.”
The giant smiled. It made the jagged scar running across the bridge of his nose pucker, pulling the corner of one eye down slightly. The result was not one to inspire hilarity.
“Crouch is the butler, my lady,” the round man said softly, wringing his hands in apparent distress over this news.
“Aye, m’lady. I’ve been with ’is lordship nigh on five years now.”
He nodded so forcibly that his earring swung madly back and forth. Gillian smiled broadly, gave a little mental shrug over the eccentricity of her husband’s staff, and turned back to the soft-spoken round man. “My husband?”
“Is not here, my lady.”
“Will he be back soon?”
“I’m afraid I do not know, my lady.”
“Where has he gone?”
“I cannot say, my lady.”
“Cannot or will not?”
“Alas, cannot, my lady. His lordship is on the reticent side when it comes to sharing information.”
“I see. When exactly did he leave?”
Devereaux shot her a pitying glance. “I am unsure of the exact time of his departure, my lady, as he left instructions for me and did not meet with me in person.”
Gillian felt oddly disappointed at the news, although she had prepared herself for Noble’s absence, knowing he had returned to town for the sole purpose of conducting business. Still, she would have liked to see her bridegroom again, especially when she had spent most of the agonizing ride into town reliving just how she came to be so uncomfortable in the saddle. It was worth every twang and ache, she reflected idly as she allowed the pirate butler to introduce her to the house staff and show her around the ground-floor rooms. She was very much looking forward to seeing whether another intimate encounter would prod her husband into bellowing at her about being only human. She hoped it would. She felt certain it was good for him to lose his vaunted control now and again, especially if she was on the receiving end of his magnificent display.
“My lady?”
She blinked and looked around as the butler twitched dustcloths off delicate rose-colored furniture.
“What display would that be?”
Oh lord, would she never learn to think without involving her mouth in the process?
“ ’Tis nothing. You were saying?”