“Kitten, kitten, kitten, kitten.”
Plum, starting to get a headache from all of McTavish’s bouncing, clutched him to her chest. “I appreciate the fact that none of you wish to have a new mother—”
“I want a new mama,” McTavish told her shoulder, squirming to get free. Plum loosened her grip just enough so he could sit next to her and play with the long, inky tendrils of hair that curled around him.
“Thank you, McTavish, I appreciate that.”
“I want one, too,” Digger said unexpectedly. “And so do the twins, don’t you?”
Andrew, in the process of wresting the chamber pot — thankfully unused — from his sister’s grip, didn’t look up as he nodded. “Yes.”
“No, you don’t, I want one,” Anne snarled as she stomped on her brother’s foot, crowing in triumph when he yelped and released the chamber pot.
“I thought she said otherwise,” Plum asked as Anne raced out of the room, her prize hugged to her chest. Andrew was directly on her heels, yelling at her that she was a thief to take his pretty pot.
“Oh, that’s just the twins. They never agree on anything,” Digger said, then started for the door. “Come on, Tavvy, George said she heard that one of the bulls’ tails fell off during the night. If we’re fast, maybe we can find it before the stable boys do.”
“I want a bull tail!” McTavish said as he scrambled across the top of Plum to follow after his brother. “I want a kitten and a bull tail.”
Plum blinked at India, who was still frowning at her. “Is it like this every morning, or are you all being unusually bizarre on my behalf?”
India unfolded her arms and marched toward the door. “My real mother didn’t have black hair. My real mother was pretty, and blonde like me, and she didn’t touch me when I didn’t want to be touched.”
Plum sat back against the headboard as the door slammed behind India, blowing out a breath she hadn’t realize she had been holding. “You wanted children, well now you have them. Only, what am I do to with five grown children? Babies I could handle, but children children…hoo!”
The room held no answer for her. Since she didn’t want to frighten her maid by asking her any more rhetorical questions, she washed in the water that had been left for her, and with the practice of one who has long tended to herself, slipped into the nicest gown she owned. She was just braiding her hair when there was a knock at her door.
“India said you were awake. I thought I would see how you enjoyed your first night of marital bliss.” Thom entered the room, her arched eyebrow (Plum had gnashed her teeth many times at the lovely natural arch in Thom’s eyebrows) and coy smile an indicator of what sort of an answer she expected.
“I slept quite well, thank you, although not due to any activities that you are perilously close to smirking about. And while we’re on that subject, I will remind you again that unmarried young ladies of good family do not allude to matters that are unsuitable.”
Thom blew her a kiss and opened the door. “You’re so adorable when you’re prudish. Since you are obviously hale and hearty, I will see you later. I’m going to investigate Harry’s stables. He appears to have excellent taste in horses…”
Before Plum could do anything more than sputter, “Prudish! I’ve never been prudish a day in my life!” Thom was gone. Plum gave her hair a final pat, spent three minutes wishing she had a nice gown in which to greet her new husband, and set off to begin her life as wife and mother.
“Good morning, er…” Plum hesitated in the great hall, unable to recall the butler’s name. Her introductions to the staff the previous night had been so quickly conducted, she had nothing more than an impression of a heavy Spanish accent, sultry, flashing black eyes, and extremely white teeth against dark skin.
“I am Juan Immanuel Savage Tortugula Diaz de Arasanto, and you are my oh, so very, very lady.”
“Very, very lady?” Plum extracted her hand from where the handsome Spaniard was bending over it.
“Yes, you are so very.” Juan the butler waggled his eyebrows at her in what she assumed was meant to be a seductive manner.
She fought back the desire to giggle at him, and instead asked, “Yes, well, Arasanto, have you seen his lordship this morning?”
“One.”
“You saw him at one this morning?”
He gave her a very polished leer. “No, Juan. It is my name. You may call me Juan rather than Arasanto. It is preferred, yes?”
Plum took a deep breath and reminded herself that no matter how much she might like to either burst into hysterical laughter, or scream, neither were actions suitable to a new marchioness. “I see. Very well, Juan, do you know where my husband is?”
He shrugged and pointed his thumb over his shoulder toward a narrow, dark passage. “Harry is probably hiding in his office.”
“Harry?” Plum asked, a little surprised by a servant addressing his master by his first name.
“He asks me to call him that because he calls me Juan, eh?”
“Oh. I see. Yes, well…um…thank you.” Plum started toward the passage, but found her way blocked by the amorous Spaniard.
“You would like for me to show you around the house first, eh? I have many things of interest to show you.” His eyebrows waggled at her again.
Plum knew she should be offended or angry with such blatant flirting by a servant, but she found herself oddly amused by Juan. He was so sure of his charm, so obvious about his innuendoes, she couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, but I will have my husband — your employer — show me around the house. I’m sure he, too, has many interesting things to show me.”
“He is old, that one. I am young and how it’s said, virile.”
“He’s not that old,” Plum laughed. “And considering he has five children, I would hazard that his virility is not in doubt.”
Juan shuddered and crossed himself. “Santa Maria, those ones are spawned by the devil himself.”
“Oh, come now, they’re a bit high spirited, but they aren’t really that bad.” Plum sidled around Juan while he was busy rolling his eyes. “A little untamed, perhaps, but that is no doubt due to having been without a mother for the last few years. I quite like them.”
Juan grabbed her hand as she moved past him, bowing over it again, brushing his lips against her knuckles before Plum yanked her hand back. “It is because you have not been here with them that you think they are the angels. They are not. And now, most very lady, I will return to my duties. You are mistress here now, you will want to speak to me later about my duties, yes? I will await your pleasure in the pantry of butlers.” His black, liquid eyes sent her a message that was unmistakable. Plum’s lips twitched as she struggled to keep from giggling. She hurried down the dark passage, wondering how on earth Harry had come to employ such a bold butler, when his words sank in.
“What can Harry be hiding from, I wonder?” she mused as she approached a door. She entered a small, extremely tidy room and smiled at the man sitting behind a desk piled high with books and papers. “Good morning, Mr. Harris. Can you tell me where I might find Lord…merciful St. Genevieve, what was that?”
The loud crash that came from the hallway made Plum jump. She turned back to the secretary, expecting him to leap up and investigate.
“His lordship is through the door to your right. If you could possibly convince him to allow his room to be cleaned, I would be eternally grateful.”
Plum stared at him as if he had horns growing from his head. “Didn’t…didn’t you hear the crash? From the hall? Shouldn’t you investigate?”
Temple tipped his head to the side as he considered her. “No. I’ve found it’s much safer not to be too curious about those sorts of things.”