An Innocent Maid For The Duke. Ann LethbridgeЧитать онлайн книгу.
laughed and shook her head. ‘Ridiculous boy. You always did have a way with words. But...’ she wagged a finger gnarled by the ravages of rheumatism ‘...I will keep you to that promise. Or the spirit of it anyway.’
She limped out of the room.
* * *
Eight hours later, Jake found himself entering Vitium et Virtus in search of an hour or two of sleep before the sun rose. Again. He’d forced himself to remain at home, to go to bed like a normal person, under his own roof—and lain awake all through the darkest hours. Now, at almost dawn, he needed sleep to the point of desperation.
Snyder greeted him briefly, took his coat and hat and left him in peace.
If there was peace to be had. The servants would soon be bustling about their chores.
He should have come earlier. He strolled past the Green Room and against his will opened the door and looked in.
Naturally no one was twirling about in front of the mirror. No one was there at all. And in the interim he’d come to the conclusion he should forget about Rose. Seeing her again, he had concluded, would only make his restlessness worse. He had a duty to the Duchy as his grandmother had pointed out. He must make a good marriage if he was to secure the future of his name and the dynasty entrusted to his care. Albeit reluctantly, he’d given in and taken up the mantle and the strawberry-leaved coronet. Blast it.
The weight of that mantle and crown had him dragging his steps towards the owners’ private quarters. He passed a maid already at her work in the grand hall, the entrance used by paying members.
On her hands and knees polishing the marble floor, she was scrubbing so hard that her bottom moved in counterpoint to the swish of her cloth.
A very attractive, lushly curved bottom it was too. Drawn by some unnamed instinct, he paused to watch, feeling a strange sense of kinship with that sweetly rounded bum. A palm-tingling urge to stroke and squeeze. And she was humming quietly to herself. A familiar refrain that... No. It could not be.
His gut clenched. He felt ill. She was not... He refused to allow it.
Unable to stop himself, he walked stealthily around her, but she must have seen a movement from the corner of her eye, because she jerked upright, still on her knees, and looked up at him, her face pink with exertion—
‘Rose!’
She winced at his shout.
* * *
Staring at the Duke, Rose felt horror roll through her in a sickening tide. Another half-hour and she would have been hidden away in the kitchens for the rest of the day.
He was staring at her as if he expected her to say something. She dropped the rag, wiped her hands on her apron and pushed to her feet.
She bobbed a curtsy, keeping her head respectfully lowered, her gaze on the floor, wishing he’d walk away. Or that the floor would crack open and swallow her up. ‘Your Grace.’
All she could see were his feet planted squarely on the patch of marble she’d scrubbed clean. She waited for him to move on. She didn’t dare look at his face, at the disgust she’d see in his expression.
Or the anger.
‘Well?’ he said softly, menacingly. ‘Are you going to explain?’
‘Explain what?’ She winced. She hadn’t intended to speak out loud. A glance upwards at his implacable expression sent a shiver down her spine. It was far worse than a show of anger. He looked merely curious. Almost cold.
‘Explain why you never told me that you work here.’ He looked down his ducal nose. ‘You do work here? Have been working here for some time?’
And was unlikely to be working here much longer. She nodded miserably. ‘As a scullery maid.’
He folded his arms across his chest. ‘So what were you doing in the Green Room the other evening?’
She shrugged. ‘I had been mending the gown. I tried it on to see...’ Dash it, if she was going to be let go, it might as well be for the true reason. ‘I wanted to see what I would look like in such a lovely gown.’
His frown deepened.
She held her breath, waiting for the full force of his wrath.
‘You made me think you were gently bred. A lady.’ Not angry, disappointed.
What right did he have to be disappointed? ‘If you’d thought me a lady, you would not have met me in private or kissed me without permission.’ She winced at her scolding tone. What was the point of feeling embarrassed? She was what she was and she cared nothing for his opinion, good or bad.
Only she did. Heat rushed to her face and she let her gaze fall away. ‘I apologise, Your Grace. I—I did not set out to trick you. It simply happened. I should never have met you in the garden, however. For that I am sorry.’
His feet did move away then. A few steps and then silence. She looked up, expecting him to be gone, not to find him perched on the second step of the stairs up to the great subscription room.
He gestured for her to come closer and she found it odd when she approached that she was in fact looking down on him by an inch or two.
It made him seem less imposing, less of a threat and more like the man she had met in the garden. As if they were somehow equals. They were not. A fact she would do well to remember.
‘This time you will tell me the truth, if you please.’
She clenched her hands at her waist. ‘What is it you want to know?’
He narrowed his eyes at her obvious defensiveness.
What did it matter? She was going to lose her job anyway. She shrugged.
‘Very well. What is your real name?’
‘Rose Nightingale.’
He made a face of disbelief.
‘Is too,’ she said.
‘Very well, Miss Nightingale. How long have you worked at Vitium et Virtus?’
‘Four months or so.’
‘Do you live in or out?’
She hissed in a breath. Why did he want to know that? Only a few of the employees here lived in. He must know that, being an owner and all.
‘Out.’
The answer was received with a heavy silence.
‘I will collect my things and leave.’ What else could she say? Clearly she had lost any regard he might have held for the woman he thought she was. An ache scoured the inside of her chest. She was wrong to have let herself be swept up in what was really was no more than a foolish dream.
‘You want to leave?’ he asked.
She frowned at him. A horrid suspicion entered her mind. Did he want to continue where they had left off only...? Now he knew who she was...what she was, would he treat her differently? With less respect?
‘I think it is for the best.’
He regarded her for a long moment. ‘You are going home?’
‘Yes.’
‘To your family.’
Truth. She had to tell him the truth. She had said she would. And then he really would despise her utterly. ‘I have no family left that I know of.’ She lifted her chin.
‘Oh, Rose,’ he said, shaking his head, sorrowfully.
‘I have done nothing to be ashamed of.’ Her face flushed again. ‘Nothing that has brought harm to anyone else.’ Even if she was a bastard. Born on the wrong side of the blanket, the nobs called it. She called it irresponsible.
To her surprise, he looked startled, as if her declaration surprised him. What? Did