Of course, the female inside of her responded.
Her stomach clenched up as she realized that perhaps more than anything it was the confidence he exuded. As if there was no problem that could not be resolved. Her mind flashed back to the night he had saved her. The way he had dispatched two seasoned criminals as if they were nothing more than afterthoughts to be dismissed.
The entryway seemed to shrink and disappear as their eyes remained locked for half of forever until he took a deep breath and returned to reading his report.
Her heart fell. There had been something in that look. A look between a man and a woman. Not a look between a Duke and a maid. But he had dismissed it and returned to his normal status. Above her. Above everything.
Gritting her teeth, Ann returned to her work. As she did, she watched him in the mirror make his way to his library. A sadness filled her as she realized what she would never have. For the first time, she began to regret her situation.
Granted, she was fortunate beyond belief to be here. Yet, it came at a price. She would be constantly reminded of what she could never hope for.
Sighing, she turned to hurry back to find Mrs. Jensen for her next assignment.
“Ann,” the Duke called from the door of the library.
She was startled, she had thought he was gone. “Yes, Your Grace?” she said as she gave a quick curtsy.
“You didn’t grow up down at the docks, did you?” he asked with a deep frown. “You won’t find many people familiar with Pope, Swift, or even Samuel Johnson down there.”
“No, Your Grace,” she answered as she fought to understand why he was asking such personal questions.
He raised an eyebrow, silently commanding that she provide him more information. It was amazing. A simple look could make a person want to give him anything he asked for. Was he born with that ability? she wondered. Or had he been forced to learn the skill? Or, she thought with an internal laugh. Did they give it out when they made a person a Duke?
Regardless, the man was impossible to ignore.
“My father was a clerk at the Bank of England,” she told him.
Both of his eyebrows rose in surprise.
“When my mother died, my father … lost his way.”
The Duke nodded solemnly, silently asking for more.
“Some men, when they lose their wife, they stop trying. Stop fighting. He fell into an evil habit.”
“Opium?” the Duke said with a concerned look that made her think he might understand.
“The Bank let him go. Really, he didn’t give them much choice.” She continued, “After that. When a man has lost everything he cared about, it doesn’t take long to slide down to the bottom.”
“The man had a daughter to care for,” he said with an angry scowl. How could she explain to this man about her father? He had hated his job at the Bank. She had always thought he would have much preferred to be a scholar or Oxford professor.
“And when he passed, you were left alone?” the Duke asked.
She swallowed hard as the memory washed over her. That sense of desperation and fear.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
He smiled softly. “I do apologize for prying. It was just that it had become an itch I could not scratch, my curiosity.”
Ann froze, how was she supposed to reply. Her mind was blank.
He sighed again and gave her a quick smile. “I will let you go. Again, I do apologize.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” she said as she dipped a quick curtsy, then hurried down the hall. Just as she was about to turn the corner, she looked back to find him still watching her with a strange, almost confused expression on his face.
A shiver traveled down her spine at the look in his eyes. It was as if she were being watched by a wolf studying its next prey. A desperate wish filled her to turn and go back to him. To simply be in his presence. To bask in the look of lust in his eyes.
Her knees wobbled as she forced herself to her room where she could sit in quiet for a few minutes and regain her composure. Something had changed inside of her. Some new awareness had come into her life.
“Oh Ann,” she whispered to herself. “Do not become infatuated. That way lays but pain.”
.o0o.
The Duke of Bedford watched as Ann scurried away. Those mesmerizing hips made him want to forget himself and take what he wanted.
“No,” he cursed at himself after she had left. He despised men who took advantage of their servants. It was wrong on so many levels. Yet, he could not deny the pull she had over him.
He tried to push the thoughts away when he was interrupted by the jingle of horses and a carriage outside. His heart fell. His mother was here. Early. She probably wished to find the house in disarray and unprepared.
She would love nothing more than to find maids on their knees scrubbing floors and footmen out of uniform looking for something to do.
The Duke smiled to himself. His mother had failed to account for Mrs. Jensen. His housekeeper had obviously planned for this. The house was in perfect order.
Taking a deep breath, he was about to call for a footman when James scurried down the hall buttoning his top button. The tall servant shot him a worried look as he hurried to the door to open it just in time to allow his mother to enter like a ship sailing against the wind. Head up, eyes searching for failure.
“Bedford,” she called out to him with a deep frown. A thousand memories flashed through him. That seemed to be the way she always looked at him. As if he would never be good enough. He had never known if her disdain was fear that he would become like his father. Or if it was just an honest opinion of his inadequacies.
“Mother,” he replied as he stepped forward to kiss her cheek.
Two other women, her maid, and secretary, followed his mother into the house. Both of them middle-aged, thin-lipped, and as cold as a winter storm.
His mother ignored them as she slowly examined the house then frowned deeply as she examined John the footman.
“Do not tell me,” she said with a shake of her head. “You have lost another butler. Really, Bedford, it is most unbecoming. A Duke is expected to maintain propriety. I thought I raised you better than this.”
He bit his tongue the woman hadn’t raised him. That task had been passed to a dozen different servants and a cruel headmaster. It took every effort to stop himself from reminding her of this. It wouldn’t do any good, she would never understand.
“How was your trip?” he asked, assuming that would be neutral and drama free.
His mother sighed heavily as she looked up at the ceiling. “I do believe the coachman hit every bump on purpose. You really must think about replacing him.”
The Duke fought to stop a grin. He hadn’t instructed the man to do so. But perhaps he should raise the man’s salary. Or a bonus at least.
Before he could reply though, he was saved by Mrs. Jensen stepping out of the back hall and into the entryway like a rescue boat come to save a drowning man. The rest of the staff followed behind her, ready to spring into action.
He noticed that Young Ann was not among them. Why? Was Mrs. Jensen hiding her, worried that she would make a critical mistake? Or, was it something else?
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Jensen said before dropping into a deep curtsy.
His mother raised an eyebrow then said, “Julia.”
Brock shook his head. Over twenty years of loyal service to their family and that was all the acknowledgment. His mother should be on her knees thanking this woman. Instead, she acted as if everything was her due.
For some reason that made him think of Young Ann. What would his mother have done if, as a young girl, she had found herself penniless on the London Docks? How long would she have survived?
Hours at the most he realized. Yet this young woman with no family. No breeding, as his mother would have called it. She had survived with her honor intact.
“If you will follow me, Your Grace,” Mrs. Jensen said to his mother. “I will sh
ow you to your rooms.”
His mother nodded. Then, turned to him. “I really would have preferred the Dowager’s house. This house has always seemed too … I don’t know, casual I think is the right word. Not exactly up to snuff, shall we say. But some things cannot be avoided. The Dowager’s house is desperately in need of repairs.”
The Duke couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “It is a shame you did not inform me earlier. I would have moved heaven and earth to make sure the repairs were completed in time for your arrival.”
His mother shot him a quick look as she tried to decide the true meaning of his words. Her eyes locked with his and he saw that she understood perfectly.
“Cook has chosen a nice veal for tonight’s dinner,” Mrs. Jensen interjected. She was obviously trying desperately to stop him and his mother fighting. How many times had Mrs. Jensen smoothed the waters between them? he wondered.
His mother continued to look at him, then turned and marched up the stairs.
He sighed and shook his head. Two weeks tops, he told himself. If the woman stayed longer, he would find an excuse to visit his estates in Scotland. As far from her as possible.
Chapter Nine
Ann’s stomach had been in constant turmoil for the last three days. It was as if Mrs. Jensen was keeping her from Her Grace’s presence. Why? Was she worried about how the new maid might perform?
It was almost as if Mrs. Jensen went out of her way to assign her tasks that would ensure the Duchess would never see her. If the woman was upstairs, then Ann was charged with downstairs duties. If the Duchess was downstairs, then Ann was sent upstairs to help with the rooms.
Only Mary or Jenny were tasked with delivering meals to the room. At tea time, it was either Mary or Jenny who carried the tray into the parlor under Mrs. Jensen’s watchful eye.
Ann’s insides churned. Did Mrs. Jensen really believe she was unable to carry out her duties well enough? Or was she worried that she might say the wrong thing and embarrass the Duke?
Surely, she hadn’t given her any reason to believe that. And, if she wasn’t able to serve Her Grace then would she be allowed to remain on the staff? Was this Mrs. Jensen’s way of telling her that she wasn’t good enough?
A new fear jumped to the forefront of her mind. Had Mrs. Jensen learned about how she felt towards the Duke? Surely not. She had taken every precaution. But if she did learn. Mrs. Jensen wouldn’t dawdle. She’d have her out of there faster than a falcon taking a dove.
If she was lucky, she might get a reference. But under no circumstance would Mrs. Jensen let anyone from her social class think of the Duke in that way.
The worries ate at Ann’s insides until she could stand it no longer. Taking a deep breath, she sought out the housekeeper to confront her and find out the truth. At least this way, she would know where she stood.
“Mrs. Jensen,” she said when she found her in the hall. “Might I have a word?”
The housekeeper frowned, then sighed heavily and indicated they should step into her room. The housekeeper's bedroom also served as her office with a desk and chair where she worked on the household accounts.
“Yes, Ann,” she said as she folded her hands in front of her.
Ann could read it in her eyes. The woman had a dozen different worries. The Duchess and all of her demands were only part of her problems. Ann suddenly wondered if she should even bring up her concerns. Surely, she was being silly. Yet, her stomach refused to let the matter go.
“Have I done something to upset you?” she asked the housekeeper.
Mrs. Jensen frowned as she tried to understand. “No, you have performed very well.”
Ann frowned. “Then why am I not allowed to serve Her Grace?” she asked. “Do you fear I will embarrass you?”
Mrs. Jensen laughed and indicated she should sit in the chair. Ann swallowed hard as she sat down. It must be serious.
The housekeeper began to pace, each step raising the tension in Ann’s stomach.
“It is not your performance I worry about. I promise you.”
“What then? You don’t deny that you have been treating me different than the other maids. I know they are not pleased. They shouldn’t be tasked with more duties than myself. It isn’t right?
Mrs. Jensen scoffed as she waved her hand. “Those two will do as they are told and need not concern themselves with my decisions.”
Ann sighed heavily. “But why?”
After a long pause, the housekeeper smiled gently. “You are too pretty and too poised to be a maid. I don’t want the Duchess getting the wrong idea.”
Confusion filled Ann. “I don’t understand. What wrong idea?”
Mrs. Jensen sighed and shook her head. “I know the Duchess. If she gets one look at you, she will assume you were hired at His Grace’s insistence.”
Again, Ann frowned, “I was though.”
Mrs. Jensen’s cheeks grew pink as she looked down at her hands. “Yes, but not for what Her Grace will assume.”
Ann continued to frown until Mrs. Jensen let out a long breath, “She will assume you are the Duke’s mistress. To women like her, that is the only reason a man would have a beautiful maid. And heaven knows, there is many a house where such an … arrangement is employed.”
Ann gasped. “But … I never … I”
Mrs. Jensen smiled softly as she rested a hand on Ann’s shoulder and said. “It is not you. I know that you have done nothing wrong. And believe me, I have been watching. No, it is her failing. But I believe things will go easier if you two do not meet. Do you understand?”
“I do wish you had told me,” Ann said. “I would have taken pains to avoid her. I would never make His Grace’s situation harder.”
Mrs. Jensen studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “Yes, you are probably right. I should have realized that you were too intelligent to miss it. I can tell you, neither Jenny or Mary would have noticed. They would have just been pleased someone else had been chosen to carry out a task.”
Ann nodded. Now that she understood, she felt better. It had not been her performance but something she had no control over.
“I do wonder,” she said to the housekeeper, “If you might not have misjudged the situation. I don’t believe myself any different in appearance than Mary or Jenny.”
Mrs. Jensen scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Ann Parker, you might not know it. But, you are exactly what every red-blooded male desires. Young, beautiful, poised, with a fine figure and a sharp mind. I don’t care if they are a chimney sweep or a prince, they all want the same thing.”
Ann’s insides turned over. She had never really thought of herself that way. But then, she had spent the last few years caring for her father or hiding from the evils of the street. Was she really attractive to men?
Did the Duke think so? she wondered as her heart jumped. Could he see her as someone to be desired?
No sooner had the thought occurred to her than she remembered that she was but a maid and there could never be anything between them. His Grace would never presume to lust after a servant.
The man was too honorable, she thought with regret.
.o0o.
The Duke of Bedford sighed heavily as he reread the report. It was impossible to concentrate. His mother had been there for five days and looked to be camped out for the next two years. The entire household was in turmoil, striving to meet her constant demands. He swore the woman could try the patience of a saint.
And as he well knew, he was far from sainthood.
Taking a deep breath, he returned to the report only to have the door to the study fly open as his mother stormed in.
“Bedford,” she said. “We need to talk. It is past time.”
The Duke ground his back teeth. He had been dreading this moment. “Very well, Mother,” he said as he indicated the chair on the other side of his desk.
She frowned for a moment, obviously she would have preferred to hold this discussion in the parlor, on her home ground. One of the ma
ny reasons he had avoided that particular room since her arrival.
Sighing and slightly rolling her eyes, she sat down in the chair and studied him for a long moment.
“It is time you married,” she said to him. “Lady Beatrice cannot wait much longer. Her family is becoming rather impatient.”
He choked as he punched his chest to try and regain his breath. The thought of marrying Lady Beatrice Radcliff sent a cold chill down his spine. The woman was as cold and manipulative as his mother.”
“As I have told you in the past, Mother,” he said with a serious frown. “I will not be marrying Lady Beatrice.”
“Why ever not? Our families have planned this since she was born. Her family …”
“Mother,” he interrupted. “Her family is rather deep into the slave trade. Her father and I have clashed in the house of Lords over the matter. Repeatedly, I might add.”
His mother waved her hand as if the issue was not that important. He fought to stop from rolling his eyes. She only became more obstinate when he did that. But under no circumstance would he marry Lady Beatrice Radcliff. Mrs. Jensen would abandon him immediately. The Lady was known to be rather demanding of her staff. Almost harsh in nature.
“I don’t understand,” his mother said. “She is rather beautiful. An Earl’s daughter. And her mother is one of my best friends. Why must you always be so difficult? I blame your father. If he had not died when you were so young. I do believe you would not show this independent streak. It really is unbecoming.”
“Regardless, I will not be marrying Lady Beatrice.”
“Who then?” she demanded. “I know for a fact that you have met every eligible Lady in England and most of Scotland. Of course, if it weren’t for this blasted war, there might be someone on the continent appropriate. But we are trapped in the situation we have. And you must marry. Even you should be able to see that.”
He sighed internally. He would not be marrying anytime soon, if at all. Perhaps in his dotage like his father. But not now. Life held out too many joys that matrimony would kill. But what to do with his mother? He knew the woman too well. She would never stop. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised to discover the Dowager’s house remodel was but an excuse to live here and pester him into submission.
A Duke's Desire (The Duke's Club Book 1) Page 6
