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In the Flesh

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2019
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“Jamie, eh? I expect I could call you that.” Polly reached for a cloth to push the heavy kettle onto the hottest part of the range. Jamie Brownlow was at her side in the blink of an eye, and before she could protest, he had the cloth and was doing the honors for her. “Thank you, Jamie … My name’s Polly Jenkins, but you can call me Polly, I suppose.”

“Polly it is then.” Laughing, Jamie reached for the teapot. “Let me make the tea. You maids are always worked to a standstill. Take the weight off your feet, and have a breather for a change.”

How very modern. Men almost always expected women to do the serving, even if they were belowstairs types like Jamie. Not even Mr. Charlie, when he wanted some comfort, was so courteous.

“That’s very decent of you, I must say.” Polly settled on the old, ill-stuffed sofa that was set to one side of the fire, opposite from the armchair. “Although I’m not sure that Cook will be so pleased with you handling her pots and suchlike.”

Jamie grinned over his shoulder as he set about his task. “Oh, don’t you worry, my Polly. I’m fully accustomed to handling a female’s pots and suchlike. In fact I’ve been told I’m quite an expert in these matters.” He winked, and Polly was struck by his provoking, wicked eyes. They were green, quite light, but with an unusual slate-colored cast, and they twinkled with intelligence and guile.


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