Free The Redemption of a Rogue (Dark Regency Book 2) by Chasity Bowlin

snapped.
    Abbi glanced over her shoulder at him, “We do not, my lord.”
    “Michael,” he corrected through clenched teeth, “And we bloody well do. Mrs. Wolcot is one of them.”
    “Mrs. Wolcot is our housekeeper, and she has been with the family for ages. She has also not been paid in ages. She only remained at Blagdon Hall because she has no other family to go to! Also, because Lord Allerton refused to provide a reference for her to go elsewhere,” Abbi explained, her tone patient, as if speaking to a child, or perhaps a lackwit. “I won't even mention the fact that she's at least a score beyond our combined ages, and should not be toting baskets of clothes larger than she is!”
    “You have just mentioned it!” His tone was biting. “Her wages have been paid by me…And I will see that she receives the back wages as well, now that I am aware they are owed to her. Now, you are a viscountess and not a bloody laundress! I will not have you carting clothes back and forth to the wash.”
    Abbi smiled at him the same way one would smile at a petulant, but still adorable child. “That is all well and good, my lor—Michael. But you cannot hire people from the village. They will not work at the hall as most of them are petrified of our resident spirit… and as your valet has not yet arrived with all your belongings, the wash will not wait until you can obtain someone from an agency in London. So, in short, this particular viscountess will also be your laundress, at least for today.”
    He watched her sail from the room, impervious to his protests and every societal edict she had just violated. The basket of dirty clothes balanced against her hip and the door banged shut behind her. He swore violently. If Allerton weren’t already dead, he would have called the blackguard out. There was no excuse for having left her to eke out such a mean existence. She should have been given a season in London, along with a dowry and the opportunity to have the genteel life that was due her by virtue of her station. Instead, she’d been subsisting in a rundown hovel of a ramshackle keep on a pauper’s portion.
    The front door opened behind him, and he heard a feminine voice calling out a greeting from the great hall. He turned and headed in that direction, only to find himself face to face with Lady Lavinia Whitby. His morning had gone from bad to worse.
    Lady Whitby smiled warmly at him, rather like a crocodile before it devoured its prey. “Good morning, Lord Ellersleigh, my new brother in law! How exciting to have my dear stepsister married, at last.”
    More disturbed by her abrupt turn of mind than her presence,, Michael raised an eyebrow. “Your excitement appears to be a recent development and quite a departure from your attitude the night of our engagement.”
    Lavinia laughed, a musical sound that was, nonetheless, chilling. “Well, of course, I was less than thrilled that night, my lord. I was quite overset by the horrible circumstances… Poor, dear Allerton! What a pity that was!” She moved closer to him, laying her hand on his arm and staring up at him with an expression that contained more sincerity than she was capable of. “Surely, you can see that my reception of the news was marred by my shock at discovering him so... You must understand!”
    “Must understand what?”
    Michael turned to see Abbi walking in from the kitchen. Her face was flushed as if she’d hurried in from outside. Her question had been posed in a serene voice, but there was murder in her eyes. Perhaps she was feeling protective, he thought, considering that sharing a room with Lavinia was like walking into a darkened pit filled with vipers. The strikes would come, but who knew from where?
    “Your sister was just correcting me on a misunderstanding,” he said, his tone light and yet infused with sarcasm. “It appears she is quite pleased about our marriage, and that her reaction, only three short days ago, was prompted by her shock