“I know that.”
Rita was painfully aware of it. There were times when she wished that wasn’t the case. She would love to have a wealthy husband so she could pull herself out of the gutter. But that was merely a dream. Realistically, Rita knew it would never happen. She knew her limits.
And that was painful.
Cook assembled the plates and tea on the tray and beckoned Rita over.
“Come on, girl, take that upstairs. And don’t dawdle. Her Grace doesn’t like lateness as you know.”
Rita did know. And she was already late with her daydreaming. Picking up the heavy tray, she carried it through the house and up the stairs. Her father had been a valet and her mother a governess. Both of them had taught her the life of servitude. She had been trained from an early age. The tray was big and awkward, but Rita didn’t spill a drop from the teapot or the milk jug as she practically flowed up the stairs.
When she got outside the dowager duchess’s bedroom door, Rita managed to balance the tray on one arm and gave the door a sharp rap. Then she opened the door and nudged it open with her shoulder. Duchess Christine was sitting up in bed, her hair loose about her shoulders, wrapped in a shawl over her nightgown. For someone in her later years, she was certainly still a very handsome woman. She made sitting in bed look like she was sitting in someone’s parlor drinking tea.
“Your breakfast, Your Grace,” Rita said, carrying the tray across and placing it on the coffee table.
“Thank you, Rita.” Duchess Christine paused as Rita picked up the tray stand from under the bed. “Did you get a little side-tracked on the way up?”
Rita winced.
“A little bit, Madam.” She put the stand over Duchess Christine’s lap and hurried back with the tray, balancing it on top. “Forgive me for my lateness.”
“Don’t worry about it.” The dowager duchess smiled. “I’ve been having a pleasant conversation with my son. The time passed well enough with him.”
The duke? He was in here? Rita spun around. Sure enough, sitting on the window seat and dressed in navy blue, was Inverness. Was it her imagination, or did the duke’s clothes fit him a little too snugly? Rita realized she was staring and lowered her eyes to the floor, dropping into a quick curtsy.
“Your Grace. Forgive me, I didn’t notice you there.”
“I’m not surprised. Your eyes were practically watching your feet.” Inverness’s voice was warm, laced with amusement. “I’m surprised you didn’t trip over.”
Rita swallowed. Her stomach felt like she had housed butterflies there and it was making her light-headed. She bobbed a curtsy at the dowager duchess, who seemed to be watching her curiously.
“If there’s nothing else, Madam, I’ll head back to the kitchens. Cook wanted me to pick the vegetables in the garden today.”
That was when Inverness practically jumped to his feet.
“And I’ll get on with some work, if you don’t mind, Mother?”
“Of course not. I prefer not to have an audience with my breakfast.” Duchess Christine waved them out. “You two run along.”
Rita tried not to run as she went towards the door. But she wasn’t quick enough to escape. Inverness got there first and held the door open for her, giving her a smile that made Rita want to swoon.
“I’ll escort you downstairs, Miss Rita.”
Rita floundered. The duke wanted to escort her? She couldn’t have that, surely?
“There’s no need…” she began, but Duchess Christine laughed.
“Oh, Rita, don’t turn him down. He doesn’t do this to anyone. Make the most of it.”
Rita didn’t want to make the most of it. She wanted to get back to the kitchens where she was safe. Where she could breathe properly again and not feel like she was going to make a fool of herself.
The Duke of Inverness was not good on her nerves.
As they walked along the hall towards the stairs, Rita kept a good distance from the duke, her eyes down and focusing on walking. If she looked at the imposing man beside her, Rita was sure she would trip over her own feet. She didn’t want to embarrass herself.
“Are you well, Rita?”
Rita almost stumbled on the top step in the stairway. She caught hold of the wall to get her balance and turned. Inverness was at the top of the stairs, giving her a look of concern.
“Your Grace?”
“Are you well? You look like you’re about to faint.”
He had no idea. Rita drew herself up and squared her shoulders.
“I feel a bit like a fraud, Sir.”
“What do you mean?”
“A duke escorting a servant to the kitchens? It feels…” Rita shrugged, “odd.”
Inverness chuckled. That laugh was just as effective on Rita as his smile. The butterflies got worse.
“I’m an odd man.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“What would you call me?”
Rita couldn’t believe she had said that. She didn’t find the duke odd at all. But she wasn’t about to admit anything more. Not when the man himself was in front of her. She turned and hurried down the stairs.
“You’re trying to embarrass me.”
“Not at all.” Inverness followed her down, his step almost languid compared to Rita’s hurried step. “I want to know what you really think.”
“From a servant?”
“From a woman.” Inverness managed to get past Rita and stopped at the foot of the stairs, blocking her way. “Forget about your status. Tell me what you really think.”
Chapter 3
Unable to Deny the Duke
Why was he so insistent on knowing what she thought? It didn’t make any sense. And he looked so earnest about it. Rita swallowed.
“I can’t really form an opinion of you, Your Grace,” she croaked. “I barely know you.”
Inverness smiled. He really didn’t know the effect he had on her?
“I’m sure we can rectify that. Once you’ve finished your work for the morning, come and find me. I want to know more about you.”
“There…” Now Rita was beginning to panic. “There’s not much to tell, and it’s not very exciting.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
Then Inverness was walking away before Rita could respond. She was left swaying. What had just happened? A duke actually wanted to know more? Surely that wasn’t socially acceptable.
It must be because he was out of Society so much. He was on his own a lot of the time, according to Duchess Christine. That must be the reason he was so interested in the servants; he didn’t know Society’s rules as well as he should.
Rita probably knew them better than he did. And she was left confused. Did she do as Society dictated and not create a scandal even if it was just a conversation between them? Or did she follow her employer’s orders?
Rita was still trying to decide what she should do when she went back into the kitchen. Cook was there, rolling out pastry. She looked up as Rita entered.
“What’s the matter, Rita? You look pale.”
Rita felt pale. She felt light-headed. Finding a chair, she sat before her legs gave out.
“The duke just asked me to come to his study once I’ve finished my work this morning.” She gulped. “He says he wants to know more about me.”
“He did?”
“Yes. And I don’t know what to do about it.”
Cook sighed and put the rolling pin down.
“I think you should do as the duke requests.”
“Really?” Rita started. “Won’t that make people talk?”
“I think the Duke of Inverness is used to people talking about his odd antics. He follows Society’s rules as loosely as possible and prefers his own company. People call him eccentric and getting to know a pretty girl who works for his mother would be one of them.”
Rita didn’t think Inverness as eccentric. A little odd to be very interested in her but not eccentric. She knew she should be flattered th
at he’s paying any sort of attention to her.
But all she could feel was terror.
***
“You’re sounding a lot better, Mother,” Inverness commented.
Duchess Christine smiled and leaned into her son. They were walking through the snow-filled gardens arm-in-arm, Christine wrapped up warm against the gentle flurries of snow.
“Much better,” she declared. “This fresh air is doing some good.”
“I’m glad. You’ve not been yourself lately.”
“I know.” Christine sighed. “I hate being unwell. But it’s almost gone now. My chest hurts from all the coughing though.”
Inverness could imagine. For the past month, his mother had taken ill and ended up in bed until the day before. She had coughed so much, and so hard, Inverness was surprised she didn’t rupture something. Even though she was still pale and a little frail still, it was good to see the dowager duchess up and walking about.
“At least you had Rita to look after you.”
“Yes. She’s a very good little nurse.”
Rita. The woman who had plagued Inverness’s thoughts since that first meeting. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about her. She was a sweet, innocent girl, but not afraid to stand up for herself. And she was slowly opening up to him. Inverness knew he had been playing with fire wanting to know more about his mother’s maid–the scandal it would cause!–but he couldn’t stop himself. Rita had appeared to think the same thing, acting like a frightened little mouse around him. It was after a few times meeting her in his study–with the door wide open, of course–that Rita began to relax and talk to him.
Inverness had not taken so much interest in his servants before. And talking to Rita was a lot more entertaining than talking to his fellow contemporaries and peers.
Everything about Rita kept surprising him.
“She’s a very clever girl,” Inverness said warmly. “Did you know she can read and write perfectly?”
“I did. Her mother is a governess and teaches many children through Society.” Christine was looking at her son curiously. “It was partly the reason I hired her. It’s nice to have an educated woman as a maid. She reads to me when my eyes are too tired.”
Inverness had heard that. He hadn’t meant to; he had been passing by his mother’s room on the way to his and heard Rita reading. She had a sweet, melodic voice that he couldn’t seem to walk away from. And Inverness had almost been caught hovering outside the dowager duchess’s room by his own valet. That would have taken some explaining.
“She’s very interesting,” he went on. “Shy but well-rounded in her opinions. She will give her say without apology when you give her a push. It’s quite refreshing.”
“Sounds like the two of you have been spending a lot of time together,” Duchess Christine commented.
She was still frowning at him. Inverness understood the look and hastened to assure her.
“I only talk to her, Mother. Nothing untoward goes on. Either the study door is open, or my valet is present. We’re never alone, I promise.”
“I wasn’t worried about that. I know you wouldn’t do something like that to anyone.” Duchess Christine stopped and shook her head. “But I would have disapproved at the start.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s a servant. She’s my maid, not your plaything. I don’t want her messed about.”
“Of course not.” Inverness was indignant at the idea. “That’s not my style, Mother.”
“I know.” Duchess Christine smiled and squeezed his arm. “But I’ve seen that your demeanor has improved since you met her. You’re smiling a lot more and there’s a lighter step in your walk. You’ve warmed to her, haven’t you?”
Inverness had more than warmed to Rita Salem. And that wasn’t good. But he couldn’t bring himself to walk away. That would be the right thing to do. If Society weren’t gossiping about his interest in a servant, his own household would be. That was not fair to Rita at all; Inverness didn’t care about himself.
“Is that a bad thing, Mother?” he asked.
The dowager duchess looked pained, and she nodded.
“I’m afraid so. She is a servant, love. Nothing can happen between you.”
“I know that.” Inverness took his hat off and shook the snow off it, feeling the flakes settle in his hair. “But one can think about it. She’s a breath of fresh air after everything else.”
Duchess Christine grunted.
“Well, let’s hope she’s kept you in a good mood long enough for dinner tonight at Lady Thorpe’s. Bedford is going to be there.”
Now Inverness’s mood dissipated. They had been lucky being in London and not having run into the marquis yet. His mother being unwell and not up for guests had been useful, but it did mean the inevitable was going to happen. From Inverness’s few contacts, Bedford had heard his former love was in London and wanted to get reacquainted. Duchess Christine wanted nothing to do with him but wasn’t about to make a fuss by declaring she wanted to be nowhere near the vile man.
“Can’t you turn down the invitation?”
Duchess Christine shook her head.
“I can’t. Lady Thorpe is my closest friend. I said I would go. She doesn’t like Bedford any more than I do but he is her late husband’s cousin. She had to invite him to be polite as he is family.”
Technically, she didn’t have to. Bedford was only her kin by marriage. But Inverness wasn’t about to argue with that. It was futile.
As long as the marquis stayed on his side of the table, Inverness could handle him fine.
***
Rita poured another glass for Duchess Christine, aware of the Marquis of Bedfordshire’s eyes on her from across the table. He had been openly staring at her since they had arrived. Duchess Christine had expressed, as she was still a little unwell, that Rita would tend to her. She didn’t want to cause upset for her friends.
Rita was beginning to wish she had been left behind.
Being here as a servant wasn’t something new–she was used to being in the background, although Lady Thorpe and her guests were very pleasant–but having one openly looking at her unnerved Rita. She didn’t mind it from the duke who cast her occasional looks as he sat beside his mother, but from the marquis it felt different. Like Rita needed to wash his gaze off her.
Chapter 4
Cornered
She didn’t want to be here, being looked over like something in a shop window. She wasn’t a box of chocolates. Or a bottle of wine, which never seemed to leave Bedford’s place.
Lady Thorpe, seated at the head of the table, gave Bedford a nervous look as he poured another generous glass.
“I think you’ve had enough to drink, Bedford.”
Bedford snorted. His cheeks were a ruddy red. The drink was clearly taking hold.
“Don’t tell me when I can and can’t have anything to drink,” he growled, toasting his overly full glass. “I can drink what I like.”
He downed the glass before reaching for the bottle again. Rita caught Lady Thorpe’s eye and the older woman beckoned her over. She whispered into Rita’s ear.
“Let Charleston know that we won’t be serving Lord Bedford anymore wine. That he is to keep the key to the drinks cabinet on his person.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Rita left the room and found the butler arranging the glasses to put in the library for the men to take their port. The young man was more than happy to accommodate, even taking a glass away meant for the marquis. Once she had assurances that Bedford’s alcohol intake would be cut off immediately, Rita headed back to the dining room.
Only to be blocked by a solid wall that was the Marquis of Bedfordshire. Rita backed up quickly, looking up into the old man’s leering face. He stank of alcohol and Rita had to stop herself from wrinkling her nose.
“And where are you off to in such a hurry, little miss?” Bedford slurred.
“Back to the dining room, my lord.”
“Wh
y did you leave it in the first place?”
Rita stiffened her back.
“I do not have to answer that, my lord,” she said curtly. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.”
“I didn’t say you could go.”
He wasn’t budging. Rita felt anger mix with her nerves. She didn’t like being blocked like this, but she couldn’t exactly push against him. Either he would grab her or he would have her dismissed for laying a hand on him. She was stuck.
“You are not my master, my lord,” Rita shot back. “And I am busy.”
She tried to step around him but Bedford stepped with her. Then he stepped close, so that Rita had to back up.
“Why don’t you come with me to a little private corner and have a drink with me?” He reached for her. “Your mistress won’t notice you’ve gone for a while.”
“I will not.” Rita pushed his hands away. “I have work to do.”
“Just one drink.”
“I said no!”
Rita slapped his hand away again. Bedford paused, his nostrils flaring as his eyes darkened. Then he grabbed at her. Rita screamed as he hauled her into his arms, pinning her against the wall. He went in for a kiss but Rita got her arm up between them, pressing across his throat. Bedford gurgled, but he kept pushing. Rita shrank back as far as she could.
“Let me go!”
Bedford chuckled.
“I’m a marquis, remember? I don’t answer to anyone.”
“You answer to me.”
That was when Rita saw Inverness, storming down the hall with a face like thunder. It was such a relief to see him she almost burst into tears.
***
Inverness had been watching Bedford the whole way through the meal. When he entered Lady Thorpe’s home and demanded a large whisky before he had even greeted his cousin, Inverness knew it was going to be a difficult evening. His mother had realized the same, and she stayed closed to her son’s side.
Bedford did see her and try to approach her but Inverness steered Duchess Christine to the other side of the room, conversing with Lady Thorpe’s son and daughter-in-law, who was pregnant with their first child. Talk about families and babies was enough to deter the marquis who saw things like marriage and children as something that should be left well alone.
Regency Romances Page 55
