All the pomp and circumstance. He swallowed nervously, tugging on his cravat, which his valet had tied extra tight, it seemed. The sun was hot, beating down mercilessly.
Aaron knew that he was going to have to play the kindly, attentive host, when all he wanted to do was to vanish into the stables. His half-brother, Jack, laughed beside him.
“What?” he demanded, glancing over at him. Jack had the same blue eyes and brown hair as all of the other Ayles’. He didn’t look much like Louisa.
“You look like you’ve sucked on a lemon,” he said. “Honestly, if you go around with a face like that, you’ll scare the poor lady away.”
Aaron smiled at Jack, making a face at him. Though related, they were complete opposites. Jack was easy-going—and easily manipulated. However, people tended to gravitate toward him, while Aaron himself was a forbidding presence, at times.
“Terrifying.” Jack pretended to shudder.
Louisa was frowning at the both of them. She was dressed in a black-and-cream striped silk gown to greet the guests, her hair in a neat, elegant bun. Her fingers were sparkling with rings. The Ayles Family heirloom diamond necklace was at her throat. It had been purchased in the 1600’s, and had large pear-shaped stones that glittered impressively in the sunshine.
The carriage pulled down the drive. It was a sleek black carriage, with Lord Whitecier’s coat of arms emblazoned on the side in crimson and gold. The horses were two perfectly matched black Norfolk Trotters.
Though he typically would have been very excited to see and discuss such a fine pair of horses, Aaron’s dread only grew at the sight. Already, he was tired of all of the posturing—the pretending to be civil, all while wanting to escape. He didn’t want to marry a lady that his step-mother had hand-picked for him.
The carriage came to a stop, and one of the footmen jumped down off of the back, opening the door. Aaron stepped forward, offering his hand to help first Lady Whitecier, and then Lady Julia down.
“Lady Whitecier,” he said, bowing over their clasped hands. “It’s good to see you again.”
“And you as well, Your Grace,” she replied. She was fair haired, blue eyed, an older version of her daughter. “I cannot thank you enough for inviting us to Myrtlegrove Manor. This is my daughter, Lady Julia, whom you have met before, though long ago.”
Like her mother, Lady Julia was fair haired and blue eyed. She was dressed in a light blue, with a cream bonnet—as pretty as a painting. She smiled at him kindly. He held out his hand, which she placed her gloved one in.
“My Lady,” he said, bowing low. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Your Grace,” she replied, curtsying. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”
“It has been a very long while,” he said. For he only remembered her as a child. She had grown into a very beautiful lady.
Behind the ladies, two ladies’ maids had climbed down out of the carriage. One was a stern-looking older woman. The other caught his eye. She was uncommonly beautiful. She had dark-brunette hair, and ethereal green eyes. Her chin was sharp, and she seemed almost one of the fey folk, albeit dressed in a plain gray maid’s uniform with a white pinafore over the top. When she raised her eyes to meet his, she glanced away.
His step-mother had already whisked Lady Whitecier toward the house. Jack was trailing after them, leaving Lady Julia and Aaron a small way behind in a move that felt calculated. He looked at her and smiled.
“What a difference ten years makes, Your Grace! I wouldn’t have recognized you,” she said, and they both laughed. He glanced toward the maid, noticing that she had a book, tucked underneath her arm.
“Nor I you. Did you have a good journey, My Lady?” he asked Lady Julia, offering her his arm. She tucked her hand into the bend of his elbow.
“It went very well,” she replied. “Eleanor and I were saying that the rolling hills out this way are uncommonly green.”
“Is that so?” he asked, glancing at the lady’s maid, who smiled easily.
“I have nothing to compare it to, Your Grace,” she replied. She lowered her gaze, blushing. Aaron was surprised by how aroused he felt when he beheld that blush on her pretty face. He couldn’t help but notice how her tall, slender form even made the plain maid’s uniform look elegant. He cleared his throat, looking away.
“It is Eleanor’s first time away from my Father’s manor,” Lady Julia supplied.
“Welcome to Myrtlegrove Manor,” he told her. Eleanor had fallen into step beside them, though she was on the other side of Lady Julia, for which he was relieved.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“We do live practically in London,” Lady Julia stated. “We don’t often see rolling hills of green. It’s very flat, unless you count all of the buildings.”
He found that Lady Julia was not anything like he’d expected. She seemed intelligent and kind. She seemed to be on very good terms with her lady’s maid.
But it was not Lady Julia who captivated him. It was her maid. An impossible conquest, particularly for a future Duke. He shook it off. He needed to consider Lady Julia seriously. Perhaps his step-mother had found him a good match in an Earl’s daughter.
Eleanor parted ways with Lady Julia and the Duke in the foyer. When she looked up, the ceiling was three stories high! It was a cupola, made of glass, through which light poured through. She had never seen a thing like it—the glass was joined together by what looked to be gold fittings, shaped in the form of a globe. It glittered in the light.
The butler cleared his throat. Eleanor gasped, and lowered her gaze.
“Sorry, Sir,” she mumbled. He raised an eyebrow. She glanced over at Mellicent, who was Lady Whitecier’s lady’s maid. She was older, and less dazzled by the sight of Myrtlegrove Manor. She made Eleanor feel clumsy and inexperienced.
“Please avoid the main staircases,” the butler told them both. “Those are for the family and the guests only.”
“Of course,” Eleanor murmured.
“The footmen will bring the trunks in,” the butler said. “I will show you to your ladies’ bed chambers so that you can do the unpacking.”
He led them into a door, set into the wall. Behind it, there was the servants’ hallways and staircases.
While they walked, Eleanor didn’t look about her. She didn’t want the forbidding Mr. Stanley to catch her gawking at the house any more than she already had.
She felt simple there. She had never seen so fine a home before. It was even fancier than Clayriver Manor, which boasted some impressive features. But that house, to Eleanor, was familiar. This one was not.
Eleanor had been shown to Lady Julia’s bed chamber, where she waited for the footmen to bring up Lady Julia’s things. The ladies had gone to have tea with the Duke, his brother, and the Dowager Duchess.
Lady Julia’s bed chamber was papered in yellow silk. The furniture was made of cherry wood, which was set off well with the wallpaper. The window, when she peered out of it, looked over all of the grounds.
The door opened, and she whirled around, feeling like she’d been caught. The footmen deposited Lady Julia’s trunks, then left, barely giving her a glance.
Chastised, she began to unpack, hanging the dresses up in the cherrywood armoire in the corner. They hung there, like many colored ghosts, waiting for their spirit to inhabit them.
Eleanor recalled that Lady Julia wanted her peacock-blue gown to be made ready for her to wear to dine that evening. She needed to make a good impression on her potential husband and mother-in-law.
Eleanor moved quickly, setting a fire in the fireplace, and heating up the iron. She smoothed the dress out, then hung it up on a peg on the inside of the door of the armoire. She extinguished the flames, then made sure that all else was prepared—her mistress’ things were in order, ready for use. Her shoes lined up in a neat row. Someone had already fetched water in the ceramic ewer set by the basin.
Everything in order. How comforting, when all the world seems so large.
She had seen the way that Lady Julia had smiled at the Duke of Durnsott. It was clear that she was enamored of him. His Grace had seemed very kind. He was certainly handsome, with his sparkling-blue eyes, high cheekbones, full lips. He wore his light-brown hair pulled back in a low pony tail.
Eleanor had noted the way that he had taken notice of her. She had felt—something, though she couldn’t have said what that feeling was. A little flutter, in the bottom of her stomach.
I have never seen a gentleman so comely before. Perhaps that’s all.
Eleanor decided to go down to the servants’ quarters. She needed to eat something before she would be needed to help Lady Julia dress for dinner. As soon as she walked down the hallway, she realized that she had no idea where she was supposed to go. The hall was dimly lit, and seemed to stretch onward in either direction.
I came from the left, did I not?
She began to walk. Mr. Stanley had told her where the servants’ hallway was. It had been hidden behind a doorway. Now, she realized—all of the doors looked the same. All of them were shellacked in cherry, all of them neatly lining the hall, uniform in their sameness.
The most horrifying thought that occurred to her was that should she try the doors, she might open the wrong door, thus coming upon someone who belonged there, and didn’t expect to be walked in on. Her stomach did a nervous flip.
She made her way through the halls, where she found the main staircases, with no problems. However, she wasn’t sure that those would lead her to the kitchen. She dreaded the thought of becoming even more lost than she already was.
This house is so big that I could be lost for days.
Her heart was pounding in her chest. She thought that she had already seen this hall—she stopped, glancing at the portrait of a woman in a white dress, staring down at her.
Yes, I’ve seen you before.
She continued on, hoping that she might run into someone, who could show her which door was the one that she was looking for. Everything looked the same—the walls were all a dark-crimson wallpaper, with oil paintings of people and landscapes. The same red-and-gold bordered carpet covered the floor.
“How do they navigate this house?” she muttered under her breath. She found that, again, she was standing in front of the woman in white. She exhaled, then turned around.
“Are you looking for Lady Julia?” a male voice asked.
She whirled, to find the Duke, looking at her quizzically. Her pulse raced as she looked into his handsome face, those blue eyes. An unfamiliar feeling, like warm sunlight, pooled in the bottom of her belly. “I’m sorry, Your Grace,” she gasped. “I didn’t hear you approach.”
Chapter 3
Aaron had been just returning to the parlor after visiting the water closet, when he’d come upon Lady Julia’s maid. She was clearly lost. He felt awful for startling her, but the carpet had muffled the sounds of his steps.
“I’m looking for the servants’ quarters,” she replied, blushing. “I believe I’ve gotten hopelessly lost.” She bit her bottom lip in a way that gave Aaron pause.
“I can help you there,” he said, thinking of pulling her into one of the many corners along the hallway, pressing his body against hers as he plundered her lips with his own.
“I don’t want to be a bother. Mr. Stanley showed me the door, but…I’ve forgotten which it is.”
“Not at all, come. I will show you.” She followed after him, and he was all too aware of the distance between them, not only in space, but in terms of power, as well. “The staircases are hidden,” he explained, opening the door and showing her the servants’ staircase. It was lit by windows at the ends.
“I never would have found it on my own.”
“It’s the one beside that ghastly portrait,” he said, pointing to the painting of some thrice-great grandfather. It was a horrible one—he was pasty-faced, with a voluminous white wig, and a black mole on his cheek, which might have been fake.
“I think I can remember him next time,” she said, smiling, those tantalizing green eyes lighting up. “Thank you, Your Grace.” She curtsied to him, then began to turn away. He found that he didn’t want her to go…not just yet.
“What is that book?” he asked, curiously, using it as an excuse to step nearer to her. She untucked the tome from underneath her arm, looking at it tenderly.
“It’s Mansfield Park,” she replied.
“Miss Austen?”
“Indeed, Your Grace.”
“And why do you like her works?” he asked, studying the way that she beamed, and how his own lips curled upward to reflect her happiness.
“Because she says that anyone can find love,” she replied. “Anyone at all.”
He looked at her, as if he were seeing her for the first time. He paused, clearing his throat. Love was the one thing that Aaron Ayles, the Duke of Durnsott did not believe in. He had lingered too long. He needed to return to the parlor.
“The servants’ quarters and the kitchen are two floors down,” he said. He paused, looking at her. “They’ll be wondering if I got lost myself.”
“Thank you again, Your Grace,” she murmured, curtsying again.
“My pleasure,” he replied, then turned and strode away. He exhaled, opening and closing his fists as he walked. Nothing could come of it. Particularly since she believed in such a naïve thing as love.
Eleanor’s cheeks were still burning after her whole embarrassing rescue by the Duke. She made her way down the stairs, where she found the servants’ dining room. It looked almost exactly like the one at Clayriver Manor. She relaxed, finally feeling like she was where she belonged.
A woman, dressed in all black, with a keyring at her hip, came out of one of the offices off of the hallway.
“You must be Lady Julia’s maid!” the woman said.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“I was just coming to look for you! We were wondering where you’d gotten off to. I’m Mrs. Fallmire, the housekeeper,” she said. “Come in, I imagine that you’re starving after your journey.”
“Yes, Ma’am, thank you.”
She was shown into the dining room, where there was a side table. On top of it, there was a soup tureen, a basket filled with freshly baked bread, as well as a pot of tea. There were plain cups and bowls beside this.
“It’s such a large house, that we have meals in here for the servants to take as they are able,” Mrs. Fallmire explained. “You can expect breakfast starting at six.”
Eleanor dished herself a bowl of soup, with some bread, then got herself a cup of tea. When she brought it to the table, Mrs. Fallmire smiled at her.
“If there’s anything you need, just let me know.”
“I will, Ma’am.”
She then bustled off, leaving Eleanor to her meal. There was a young man, of about five-and-twenty, sitting across from her. He lowered his paper. “You’re from London, then?” he asked.
“I am, yes.” She spooned a bite of soup into her mouth.
“With Lady Julia?”
“Yes.”
“So, then you might be coming here to work?”
“I don’t know.”
“Of course you do,” he said. “If she’s to marry the Duke.”
“It’s not my place to gossip,” she replied, wishing that he would stop trying to glean something from her.
Giving her a look of disappointment, he lifted his paper again. “As you please,” he replied.
Whatever his name was, Eleanor didn’t much care for him. She opened her book, then read while she ate her luncheon.
The tea had stretched on, throughout the afternoon. Aaron had been relived when his step-mother had finally declared that they should all part, to get some rest and change for dinner. His mind was full. He wanted to think over what had happened. He went to his room, where he sat down in the armchair by the fireplace.
Since it was summer, the fire was not lit. He stared at the empty hearth, where someone had placed a decorative
vase, filled with peacock feathers. Lady Julia was perfect for him in every way. What bothered him was that underneath that surface, he felt nothing.
Perhaps, not yet. You’ve only met her.
However, he knew. There would never be any feeling. Not after his heart had been torn into pieces by Lady Antonia Chatsworth, years before. Aaron didn’t believe in love at all. And so, a match which seemed perfect on the surface was the best he could hope for.
Lady Antonia had taken Aaron’s heart and torn it out of his chest. She had been so teasing, so seductive toward him. Her father had allowed the courtship between them, but had then changed his mind. Instead of fighting for the love that Aaron had thought they’d shared, Lady Antonia had seemed to gladly wed the other Duke that her father had chosen.
Undressed to Impress the Duke : A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 2
