“Mr. Potter,” Annabelle called out, “please show these ladies to their rooms. Except for Miss Christine. I’m taking her with me.”
“What—” I started again, but she whisked me up the stairs before I could finish. She didn’t allow me a chance to speak until we had the bedroom door shut behind us. The room was surprisingly lovely, with soft gray walls and the bed dressed in lavender linens. Across from the bed was an armoire, and on the far side of the room was a large window overlooking the woods outside. Small touches, like the stained glass along the top of the window and the bouquet of lilacs on the bedside table, made everything seem even more luxurious. Something was wrong. This wasn’t a servant’s room.
“Annabelle, what is going on?” I asked her. “What am I doing here?”
Annabelle cringed, guilt crossing her face. “You’re interviewing to be the duke’s wife.”
I nearly swooned. “You said the duke was looking to fill a position!”
“Well, he is,” she said. “I just… might have undersold it a bit.”
“A bit! He’s not looking for a maid, he’s looking for a wife!”
“Yes, but if I had told you that, you wouldn’t have come,” she said. “Don’t lie. You’re too proud for that.”
I sat down on the bed. “Well, yes, I suppose.”
“Exactly.” Annabelle crossed the room and opened the door to the adjoining room. I followed her over to find a bathroom with a stunning, massive, claw–foot tub. She turned the knobs, and the tub began to fill with water.
“Oh, my goodness,” I gasped. “I’ve never had a bathtub with running hot water.”
“I thought you’d like that,” she said. “Now look at this.” She crossed the room and opened the wardrobe, already stuffed with dresses. “I brought you some dresses from before I had a baby,” she said. “They’re all slightly small on me now, especially in the bust area. I think they’ll fit you suitably, though they may still be big.”
She pulled one out and draped it across the bed. “I didn’t have any black, but this is a deep plum, so it’s close. What do you think?”
The dress was prettier than anything I had ever owned. The color was deep and rich, and the dress was edged with a lighter lace.
“I couldn’t—”
“I insist,” she said. “Truly.”
I ran my hands over the dress, reveling in the softness of the fabric. I couldn’t fathom how much it could have cost. In fact, as I looked around the room, the overwhelming nature of my situation crashed down on me. Everything here was far nicer than anything I had ever owned in my life. The bed was soft and plush, the windows wide. The whole room was bigger than the house I had been living in. There was an entire room inside this one that housed a bathtub and toilet. I was unable to imagine living in such finery every day. What would it be like, to go from the streets to being a duchess? What if we married, but I didn’t love him? Could I be happy in a loveless marriage?
I was getting ahead of myself, and I realized I was wringing my hands on my lap. I took a deep breath, trying to steady the thoughts in my head and figure out a way to convey them into words that would make sense. After a moment of silence, I finally spoke.
“Annabelle, I appreciate all of this. I can’t even tell you how wonderful it was to sleep in a bed, or to have more food than I could eat. And I appreciate you bringing me here. But really, look at all those other girls! They’re aristocracy, and you found me on the streets. Do you really think that the duke would pick me?”
She smiled. “Oh, my dear. That’s exactly why he’ll pick you.”
Chapter Five
That morning, I wasn’t woken by the sun; not much managed to penetrate through the heavy foliage outside my window. No, that morning I was woken by my door opening. I sat up under the heavy blankets, alarmed as I tried to force the haze of sleep from my mind.
“Good morning!” Annabelle sang as she chassed to my bedside. She was dressed in a flowing, soft blue gown and carrying a wriggling child. She set him down on the floor, and he clung to her skirts, peeking out at me from behind Annabelle’s legs.
“Hi,” I said, wiggling my finger at him. He gave me a big grin, showing off a few baby teeth. I sat up and pushed my hair from my face. I looked over to Annabelle. “What’s happening?”
“Just brought you some breakfast,” she said. She motioned over to the door. A young woman came in holding a tray of food. She set the tray on the bed. Everything smelled amazing—herbal tea and crumpets with melted butter.
“Here you are, miss,” the maid said.
“Thank you.” I sat up a little straighter, and reached over to take a crumpet from the tray.
Annabelle sat down on the bed while I ate. Her baby wandered off to play with the knobs on the wardrobe.
“That’s Daniel,” Annabelle sighed. “He just turned one, and he’s turning into a handful.”
I watched as he stood there, pulling the drawers open and closed.
“He’s cute,” I said.
“He’s something,” she muttered. “How did you sleep?”
“I slept fine,” I told her.
“You’re lying,” she said. “You’re a terrible liar. Did you know that?”
Truthfully, I had tossed and turned all night. My mind had been racing, trying to make sense of the last twenty–four hours. I was trying to figure out how to make the duke like me, and when he inevitably didn’t, what I was going to do next. Perhaps the duke really did need staff, or perhaps Annabelle would know somebody who was looking for help. Though I had enjoyed the luxury of the manor, I would be perfectly content just having a roof over my head.
“Are you nervous?” she asked me.
I considered it for a long while before I answered her, covering my hesitation with a bite of my crumpet. “Very,” I grudgingly admitted.
“You needn’t be.”
“Dah!” Daniel shrieked from across the room.
I chuckled for a minute before becoming somber. “That’s easy for you to say.”
“You’ll just have to trust me on this one,” she said. She patted my leg. “Now, come on. Get up.”
I finished the last of my tea and set my tray off to the side. “What’s going to happen today?”
“Well,” she said, standing up and crossing the room, “we’re going to go slowly today. You’ll start with an interview of sorts, with the duke and his men.” She picked up Daniel and moved him a few steps to the side, then opened the wardrobe door. She pulled out the plum dress she had shown me last night and set it down on the bed. “Then we’ll all have dinner together. Like I said, it should be quite simple. Tomorrow, Jasper will take a walk through the gardens with whomever he likes. Chaperoned, of course.”
“How long will this go on?” I was trying to determine how many days I had before I was out on the streets again.
“Until he chooses someone,” sighed Annabelle as she tucked her hair behind her ears.
Daniel toddled over to the bedside table and tried to grab at the flowers, but they were just out of his reach. Annabelle took his arm and gently guided him back to her. He tried to pull away, but she held him firmly.
I climbed out of bed and shucked off my slip. Annabelle shook her head.
“Remind me to bring you some nightclothes,” she said. “Once you’ve been chosen, we’ll order you some finery, but for now you should be able to make do in some of my older clothes.”
“That would be wonderful, but you’re awfully optimistic,” I said as I stepped into the dress she had picked for me.
“It’s part of my sunny disposition,” she said, beaming. She put Daniel back on the floor and buttoned up my dress, then grabbed a brush and styled my hair. When she was done, she took a look at her handiwork.
“You look lovely,” she said as she went to scoop up Daniel.
I looked at myself in the mirror above the washbasin. I looked almost regal without the dirt on my face and in Annabelle’s dress. Regal, and not entirely myself.
“Are you ready to go meet the other girls?” she asked as she led me out of the room and down the elaborate staircase.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Some of them seemed… not so kind.”
Annabelle rolled her eyes. “That’s what happens when you let the men choose.”
“And I was your choice?”
“In a way,” she said. She didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t get a chance to ask her to because we were in the parlor.
“Interviews will start at half–past,” she announced to the room before leaving in a swirl of skirts.
The parlor was beautiful, with tall windows and a massive fireplace. Seating was scattered throughout the room, crowded around mahogany tables. Hattie and two blondes were sitting on the loveseat, skirts fanned out around them. In another chair was a girl with honey–colored hair and a peach dress, staring down at her hands. An older woman snored softly in the chair beside her. On the other loveseat beside the fireplace was a girl about my age, her light brown hair twisted away from her face. She was curled up in the corner of the seat, a book in her hand. She gave me a small smile, and so I went to sit beside her. As I took my seat, I could hear the blondes snickering.
“Of course,” one said.
I turned to look at them. “Excuse me?”
The blonde who had spoken smirked at me. “We were just talking about how fitting it is that the two lower–class girls sat together. It’s better that way. That way the rest of us don’t have to interact with you.”
“Oh, Lillian, you’re so bad!” the other blonde cackled.
Ignoring them, I turned to the girl next to me. “My name’s Christine,” I told her, holding out a hand.
She looked unsure, but after a moment she shook my hand. “Hazel,” she said.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hazel.”
The girls on the loveseat giggled, and again I turn to them.
“Is there something I can help you with?” I asked them. I could almost feel the fire burning in my eyes.
“Well, if you’re offering, I could really use someone to shine my shoes,” Hattie sneered.
The blondes tittered, but I narrowed my eyes. “You mean your daddy didn’t buy someone to do it for you?” I tsked and shook my head.
Hattie’s jaw dropped open and she folded her arms, turning her face away from me.
“Thank you,” Hazel murmured to me. “They’ve been laughing at me from the moment I walked in here.”
“How tacky.” I rolled my eyes.
A man appeared from the hallway. My eyes widened as I took him in. He was shriveled around his walking cane, with thin gray hair and thick eyebrows. I had never seen someone that old before.
“Lady Whittemore,” he called out. His voice was soft and raspy. I realized that his gaze was directed at the sleeping woman a few feet away from me. Either she couldn’t hear him, or she was in too deep a sleep for it to wake her up. I reached across the table next to me and poked her arm. She woke with a start, sitting up straight, a hand flying to her heart.
“Yes, what?”
“Lady Whittemore, I need you to come with me now,” the man said.
“Oh, yes. Quite,” she said as she gathered her skirts and stood up, following him down the hall.
She was only in there perhaps ten or fifteen minutes. I saw her disappear up the staircase and another man came to claim the girl who had been sitting next to her. This girl stayed behind the double doors at the end of the hall a bit longer, and then I saw her go up the staircase as well. Another man came. He looked quite young, perhaps even younger than myself. His hair was a sort of golden blond color that fell past his ears, and he had the beginnings of a mustache.
“Hazel,” he said, smiling at her, and again the girls on the loveseat snickered, probably because she didn’t have a title like the others did. Hazel kept her head down as she followed the young man out of the room.
Of course, that left me left with the trio of terror.
“Do you really think you have even the slightest chance?” Hattie asked me, brushing imaginary dust off her dress. “I mean, honestly, you look like you just came off the streets.”
“And so what if I did?”
She shrieked with laughter. “A girl from the streets and a duke? That’s ridiculous!”
“I don’t know,” one of the blondes mused. “I think it’s quite romantic. It’s like a fairytale.”
Hattie turned on her. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, Stella. Shut it.”
The girls were silent until another man came. This one was even older than the first, although he had more hair and his back was straighter. I was amazed. What was it out here that kept people alive so long?
“Lady Thorn?”
Hattie flounced off the loveseat. “Coming, Lord Udolf.”
One by one, the girls vanished until I was the last one. Finally, Annabelle appeared, Daniel still squirming in her arms.
“Your turn,” she said.
My heart raced as I followed her down the hallway. She pushed open the double doors, and I was sure my gasp was audible. The room was beautiful, covered from floor to ceiling in books. My eyes gazed upward at the stacks. There must have been thousands on those shelves. It was so incredible I wanted to cry.
“Welcome,” Annabelle said, and I could hear the amusement in her voice. “Please, sit down.”
I tried to regain my composure, but my eyes were busy scanning the bindings for titles.
“Of course,” I said. There was a single chair on one side of a long table. On the other side were seven men. Annabelle took a seat at the end of the row, next to the man who had brought the second girl in. I sat in the empty seat, swallowing as eight pairs of eyes stared at me. Nine when Daniel wasn’t trying to escape his mother’s arms. I had seen all of the men come into the parlor, save for the one sitting right in front of me. I gazed across the table and a jolt ran through my body. The man here was the only clean–shaven one at the table, with thick, dark hair and entrancing blue eyes. His lips were full and his cheekbones were high. And he was familiar. Very familiar.
He was the man from the funeral.
I was speechless as I looked into his eyes. I couldn’t pull myself away. His gaze was utterly hypnotic.
“Miss Croft,” he said, and that was just enough to break me from my reverie.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“It’s good to see you,” he said.
I could only nod.
“Can the girl even speak?” asked a man a few spaces to his left. This man had black hair and beady, dark eyes. He looked sort of like a rat, and his mocking voice made me uneasy.
“I’m sorry,” I said to the man in front of me. “This is all just a bit overwhelming.”
The man smiled, and it was quite a lovely smile. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and his blue eyes flooded with warmth. “I agree,” he said. “I’m Duke Jasper Wolfric.”
“You know who I am,” I said.
“Indeed I do,” he said. “And Annabelle found you?”
“She did.” I had so many questions for him, but this didn’t seem like the appropriate time to ask them.
“Your father passed away recently.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“That’s not easy.”
“It hasn’t been.”
“Oh, come on,” said the rat–faced man. “Ask her the same questions you asked the others.”
“Roderick!” exclaimed Annabelle.
“No, he’s right,” Jasper sighed. “It’s only fair.”
The questions were terribly boring.
“What do you like to do in your free time?” one man asked.
“I haven’t had a lot of free time recently,” I admitted.
“But if you had some.”
“I like to read, I suppose,” I said, glancing around the room. I had to pull my gaze away so I didn’t get sucked into the books again.
“How do you do with children?”
“I don’t have much experience. I’ve been utterly charmed by Daniel, though.” I waved to the wiggling boy, and he pulled his fingers out of his mouth long enough to wave back. Annabelle laughed.
“Have you ever been sick?” the man next to Annabelle asked. I assumed him to be Daniel’s father from the comfortable way Daniel was pulling at his mustache.
“Nothing more than a cold or stomach virus.”
“No measles, smallpox?”
“No, sir.”
“Your father was a doctor, wasn’t he, Christine?” the duke asked.
“That’s not one of the questions,” Roderick said.
“Oh, come off it,” said the very old man.
“He was, My Lord,” I answered.
“Please, just ‘Jasper’ is fine. Did he teach you at all about medicine?”
I nodded. “Yes. I often came along with him to see patients.”
“As a midwife?” one of the men asked.
“No, as his assistant,” I said, and the man shook his head.
“You must have learned a lot. Can you dress wounds?” Jasper asked.
“This is inappropriate,” said the slightly–less–old old man.
Jasper tightened his mouth and squared his shoulders. “Could I proceed without interruption?” he asked. “I’m the one looking for a bride, so I think it’s only fair that I decide what questions I’d like to ask Christine.”
The other men fell silent. Roderick looked down at the table, like a shamed puppy. I almost pitied him.
Almost. I still didn’t like his rat face.
“Christine?” Jasper prodded me.
“Yes, I can dress a wound. Stitch it, bandage it. Whatever needs to be done.”
“And it doesn’t make you squeamish?”
“No, sir.”
The other men didn’t seem happy, but Annabelle was grinning widely. At the very least, her smile made me feel like I was doing all right.
“Christine,” said the man who had brought in Lillian, “do you have any experience managing a household of staff?”
“I do not.”
“I told you,” Roderick muttered from beside him.
“All right,” Jasper said, pushing his chair away from the table. The force pushed even me backward, and the men all cowered. “I’m done with this. Christine, why don’t you go back to your room? I’ll see you at dinner.” With that, he turned and stormed through the double doors. The force of their slam reverberated through my chair.
The Wolf's Wife (The Wolf's Peak Saga Book 1) Page 5
