Free The Rake's Mistress by Nicola Cornick Page B

the wood is stored then I am happy to build one for you,’ Lucas said. ‘It is too cold today to be without a fire.’
    Rebecca stared at him in the liveliest astonishment. ‘ You will make a fire? You cannot!’
    Lucas looked amused. ‘I assure you that I am quite capable of it, Miss Raleigh. I have been in the army for years and have taken on far more challenging tasks than the building of a fire.’
    Rebecca frowned. ‘That was hardly what I meant, my lord. You would spoil the set of your jacket for a start and might even get soot on your pantaloons.’
    Lucas’s face lightened into a smile. ‘Oh I see! You feel that I should not make the fire rather than that I could not. You relieve me, Miss Raleigh. I thought for a moment that you considered me the sort of frippery fellow who could not remove his boots without the aid of a valet.’
    ‘You cannot make the fire because I have no wood!’ Rebecca snapped. She put the wineglass down on the desk with a slap. ‘Are you happy now that I have confessed it? I have no wood and I cannot afford to buy any more at present and whilst you distract me from my work I have no prospect of making any money that will enable me to buy firewood. Now will you go away?’
    ‘I shall certainly go and purchase you some logs to build a fire,’ Lucas said, ‘and then when I return we may talk.’
    Rebecca spread her arms wide with frustration. ‘About what, my lord? There are plenty of penniless craftsmen working in London who cannot afford a fire. Why do you have to interest yourself in my case?’
    Lucas shrugged. ‘It is your misfortune that I am more interested in you than in the others, Miss Raleigh. I shall see you shortly.’
    ‘Pray do not trouble to return!’ Rebecca called, as he reached the door. ‘And do not spend any money on me for I cannot repay you—’
    ‘Please save your breath,’ Lucas said, with scrupulous politeness. ‘There is an entire crowd of people out here hanging on your every word.’
    Rebecca ran to the window. She was distraught to see that it was true. Housewives with marketing baskets had gathered outside the door, their faces sharp and eager for entertainment. A group of shabby urchins was trailing Lucas along the pavement and apparently begging for money. The vintner was standing outside his shop in the sunshine, wiping his hands on a rag as he exchanged information with the silversmith. Rebecca gave a cry of aggravation and threw herself down on the chaise-longue , her face in her hands. Over the last six months her life had been growing progressivelymore difficult, but this new situation was both unexpected and utterly confusing. She did not wish to feel beholden to Lucas Kestrel and she was very afraid of where his charity might take her.
    When Lucas returned a surprisingly short time later, Rebecca was still sitting on the sofa. She got up quickly when he came in and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, hoping that he had not seen her tears. The wood merchant’s assistant followed him into the workshop, hefting a very heavy sack of logs. The man took the sack through to the store, as he had done in Rebecca’s uncle’s time, and received a coin for his trouble from Lucas before he went out. It was then that Rebecca also spotted the parcel that Lucas had laid on the table containing a fresh loaf of bread, a pat of rich yellow butter, some cheese, a ham and half a spit-roasted chicken. Her stomach, treacherously, gave a loud rumble at the sight of food.
    She seized a few logs and threw them higgledy-piggledly into the fireplace, venting her frustration on the inanimate blocks of wood until Lucas put out a hand to stop her.
    ‘Wait! It will never light if you build it like that.’
    ‘I know!’ To her horror, Rebecca could feel the tears closing her throat. ‘I know how to make a fire! I am also quite capable of feeding myself. Ihave managed perfectly well on my own for the past six months and I do not require some high-handed,