Chapter 4

- Yeah, - and so much ingenuous suffering sounded in the voice of the maid that Irishka could not stand it and burst out laughing. - We have now switched to a healthy diet. We're starving, Your Grace. - Okay, all this is certainly good, but you still want to eat. Give me a dress and braid a braid. Let's go get a normal dinner.Chapter sevenThe spacious kitchen greeted them with silence and darkness. The stove was not heated, and the boiling kettle did not whistle its uncomplicated melodies on it, the hearth did not burn, and neither the wild boar nor the last chicken was roasted on a spit in it. The frying pans hung decorously on the wall, their polished sides solemnly shining instead of frying slices of juicy meat with a splash of hot oil. The pots were lined up on the shelves. - Well, let's get started, - removing someone's snow-white apron from the hook, Irishka rubbed her hands excitedly. - Show me where it is! “How are you, milady?” - No, now I'll go and wake up Madame Bianca. - Yes, how? “Martha,” the newlywed, beginning to get irritated again, shouted, determined not to let anyone come between her and dinner, “why are you asking again all the time, huh? Just do as I say! Considering it best not to mess with the hostess, the blonde immediately opened the pantry door and began to serve her restless mistress the required products. Outraged shout: "What demon are you doing in my kitchen?!" took the girls by surprise. Irishka, jumping up in surprise, dropped the spatula with which she turned over the chops, and Marta squealed thinly, like a guinea pig. - Damn it's hot! - the soiled spatula went to the sink, and the girl indignantly put her hands on her hips. -- Your Highness? I'm sorry, I didn't recognize it right away... - the big mustachioed uncle spread his hands guiltily. - All right, you, - having calmed down, Irishka began to smile. It's all nonsense and little things in life. And what a voice you have, just command the regiment directly. “Monsieur Antoine is like that,” Marta giggled. “But you won’t find a better cook in the whole capital. - I'll remember you, Plushka, - the formidable cook tried to frown, but he looked so comical in a dressing gown, nightcap and slippers with fluffy pompoms that the girls laughed again - Come on, Your Grace, I'll help. “No, I’m on my own,” the marquise vindictively waved a clean spatula in front of the nose of the kitchen authorities. "Some other time you'll know how to serve slippery nastiness for supper." - I'm sorry, I'll fix it, - and then, slyly narrowing his eyes, he asked. "So you're canceling healthy eating, milady?" - I cancel, - Irishka smiled. “I think that Madame Bianca will do without company in this matter. “The girl was terribly anxious to know more about the mysterious governess whose authority in this house was so indisputable, but on reflection, she decided that it was better to gradually figure everything out herself. You never know what kind of relationship can connect this damned Bianca with the Marquis. And she could not afford to hear whispers behind her back or, God bless her, to see sympathy in the eyes of servants. - So, - deftly serving a late dinner, the Marquise ordered, - for breakfast I want a cottage cheese casserole, scrambled eggs and coffee with vanilla, black without sugar, and diet food is only for those who wish. - Martha, - Ira called out, walking behind the maid loaded with a tray, - now you will take the tray and go to the kitchen, have dinner. I manage myself. “Yes, my lady,” the quick encounter with chops made Plushka, who liked to eat delicious food, quicken her pace. ; Putting the tray on the serving table and wishing the hostess good night, the girl left. - However... - Irishka thoughtfully touched the mirror with her hand. - What an interesting first wedding night you have, girlfriend, - that other one, who looked from the mirror depth, was silent as always, looking anxiously with impossible gray-green eyes. - Are you silent? So shut up, shut up... Later, trying to get comfortable on the huge bed, having covered herself with pillows and making a nest out of a blanket, Irishka sighed frustratedly for a long time, turned from side to side and even was about to cry to her heart's content, but then she warmed up, calmed down, and began to doze off. And already on the very verge of wakefulness and sleep, she whispered out of habit: 'I'm going to bed in a new place, dream of a bridegroom! Or a husband to his wife...'Chapter eight "Let's play, honey?" A man's breath burned his neck. “Will you be an obedient girl?” - Yeah ... - why, well, why, Bright One, she can only agree, blushing painfully because the other one is not looking away, without interfering, however, in what is happening? Why, pressing her back against a large male body, rubbing her ass against his erection, feeling light bites that alternate with kisses, feeling how dexterous fingers free her chest from the lacy captivity of the bodice, first stroking, and then sensitively squeezing the cherries of the nipples, she does not take her eyes off from a motionless figure in a chair? Why does she want him so much to join this sweet madness? Answering a silent plea, the lithe male figure rises in one continuous movement and takes a step forward. Slowly, as if teasingly, swarthy fingers loosen the ties of loose trousers that sit low on narrow hips. She, excited by the skillful caresses of one of her lovers, can almost no longer endure the deliberate slowness of the other. The desire to see a heavy, full member, to feel its delicious hardness, to taste it, makes her moan loudly, and as if as a reward ...***** - Hello! Are you going to live with us now? - huge black eyes looked curiously from under the disheveled red bangs. Forcibly torn from the embrace of ghostly lovers, Irishka could not immediately understand where she was. She looked with surprise at a pretty red-haired girl of about seven, who settled comfortably on the bed. -- Why are you silent? Are you important? - I wake up slowly. And who are you? - Miranda ri Cavini, let's get acquainted, - the little girl tried to make a curtsey, but, unable to keep her balance, fell into the pillows with a laugh. - Very nice, - Aola laughed in response, starting to disentangle the nimble little girl from the bedspread. Loud voices outside the door made Miranda flinch and shut up. The fun immediately left the children's eyes, she put her finger to her lips in the well-known gesture of silence. “Marta, let me go immediately to your mistress,” some person impudently burst into the master’s rooms. Irishka was sure that this was the same Mrs. Bianca, who since yesterday evening wanted to pull out all the hairs. - Not ordered, - the confident tone of the maid made it clear that the chops went to Pyshechka for the future. “Step away from the door, you redneck. I have to make sure that little red-haired arrogant hanger-on isn't in your mistress's rooms. - Not ordered! - it seems that no more words from Martha were to be expected. “Your conduct will be reported, understood? - the receding clatter of heels made it clear to the young ladies, who were quiet among the heap of blankets, that the chase had gone on the wrong track. - Phew, - the fun gradually began to return to Miranda. “But you don’t look like a beggarly evil nun at all. “You don’t look like a red-haired impudent hanger either. - But I don't... - So I don't either... - realizing that she won't be able to sleep anymore, Irishka, yawning, went to the bathroom. -- Will you wait for me? Do you go to the dining room? - and having received affirmative answers to both her questions, she hid behind the door. By the time the morning routines were over, Martha was in full charge of the bedroom. She had managed to bring coffee and juice, make the bed, and now she was combing the naughty red curls of the black-eyed fidget, trying to make a decent hairstyle out of them. "Good morning, your grace!" - Plushka rejoiced. -- How did you sleep? What did you dream? “I dreamed a lot,” a dreamy smile played on the lips of the young Marquise. “Who was there that was so eager for me?” “Lady Bianca has lost Lady Miranda. So she wanted to look for a girl with you. - Yes ... A difficult case ... Well, we'll figure it out, - Irishka took a sip of amazingly tasty coffee. - Mmmm... It's good, how... - Do such a divine favor, Your Grace! The dining room, into which the newly-made hostess entered, tightly squeezing a small child's hand, seemed to her unusually cozy. A long table covered with a white tablecloth had already been served for breakfast. The aromas of coffee and fresh pastries whetted the appetite. But most of all, Irishka was pleased with an elderly lady in a strict mourning toilet. Standing up to meet the newcomers and twisting her well-bred face into a semblance of a polite smile, she introduced herself as Madame Bianca, the mentor of the beloved niece of Lord Ri Cavigna.