Maid to Be Mine: A Regency Cinderella Story

by K. L. O'Keefe

  “Oh, I'm quite alright. But that is very considerate of you, my lord.”

  Lord Charmington could feel his shoulders falling. He had hoped to use the cold as an excuse to end their stroll, but he had no such luck.

  “I am sure you are always considerate, my lord. You're the definition of a gentleman! Wouldn't you agree, Edith?” Georgiana didn't wait for her sister's response, because she did not care to hear it. “As for the weather, don't you think it's especially cold for October? One year, I remember it snowed! If that should happen again, it doesn't bode well for the flowers.”

  Lord Charmington didn't hear a word she said, because his eyes were drawn to something in the distance. There was a woman sitting on a bench—most likely a maid, because she was dressed like one. But her head was bent over a paper, as if she was reading it. A maid that could read?! He was intrigued, to say the least, and not only by the fact that she could read the written word. Even at a distance, he could tell she was very beautiful. Her skin was like porcelain, and her blonde hair was luminous, as he would imagine an angel's hair to be.

  “Lady... Georgiana?” Since he was distracted by the sight of the maid, he started speaking slowly. “Should I... perhaps... take you back inside?”

  “But I am so enjoying your company!” Georgiana squealed.

  “As I am enjoying yours,” he lied. “But is it cold, as you have pointed out. I would not want you or your sister to fall ill.”

  “Edith is never ill, and neither am I!”

  “But--” When he saw the maid rise from the bench and head into the house, his words trailed off. She was leaving! “Really, I must insist. You should get back to the house!” He tightened his grip on her arm and led her away from the garden.

  Lord Charmington's urgency made Georgiana laugh. “You make it sound as if I might catch my death! You must be very concerned indeed!”

  “I am.”

  When they were inside Montforth Hall, he deposited both sisters in the foyer and hurried away. His abrupt dismissal, as rude as it was, put a crease between Georgiana's eyes. “My lord, where are you going?! When will I see you again!? When will you return?!”

  Lord Charmington didn't answer her questions, nor did he look back at her. He desperately needed to catch up to the pretty maid.

  For some odd reason, he felt as if his entire happiness depended upon knowing her name.

  Chapter Eight

  I LOVE YOU

  As she stared at her father's words, the last words he would ever write, Cynthia was filled with a mixture of emotions. Sadness. Pain. Contentment. She missed him terribly, even more than she thought she would. He had been ill for the last year, and she knew it was coming, but nothing could have prepared her for the loss. His death left an unfillable void in her heart.

  “Father...” As she stared at his scrawl, Cynthia was fighting tears. Without a doubt, her father loved her more than he loved anyone. He was her best friend, the most important person in her life. How would he feel if he knew how her stepmother was treating her?

  Cynthia thought she heard voices, so she glanced up from the note.

  “...don't you think it's especially cold for October? One year, I remember it snowed! If that should happen again, that doesn't bode well for the flowers.”

  To her horror, her stepsisters and the visiting lord were moving in her direction. She had been ordered to avoid him, so she needed to leave. And quickly. Cynthia folded her note, slipped it into her pocket, and made a dash for the house. She ran through the foyer and into the hall, determined to make herself scarce. She was moving so fast, her foot slipped out of her slipper, but that didn't stop her. She could always retrieve her abandoned footwear at a later time.

  At the end of the corridor, she paused to catch her breath. She leaned against the wall, grateful for her successful escape. Cynthia did not doubt her stepmother's threat. She was certain she would be thrown out of the house if she was caught in the presence of Lord Charmington.

  “Would that really be so bad?” Cynthia whispered to herself. “Perhaps I could... find employment elsewhere? Surely it would be much less embarrassing than being at my stepmother's beck and call...”

  No matter how much she wished she could escape, Cynthia just couldn't fathom it. She was not what anyone would describe as worldly; she had lived in Montforth Hall her entire life. Every time she thought about running away, she wondered if the real world would be too much to bear.

  “Pardon me!”

  When she heard the unfamiliar male voice, Cynthia's body froze. She tried to smash herself against the wall, as if hoping that would hide her body from anyone who approached.

  “Pardon me, miss?” When she realized the speaker was none other than Lord Charmington, she closed her eyes and prayed he would disappear.

  This can't be happening!

  “Miss?” He addressed her again. As he approached, he held out her discarded slipper. “I believe this might be yours?”

  “Um... yes,” Cynthia shyly confessed. “I, uh, I believe that might be mine.”

  When Cynthia reached for her slipper, he swiftly pulled it away. “No. Allow me.” She watched, in horror, as the earl sunk to his knees. He cradled the slipper in his hands and held it toward her feet.

  “You expect me to slip my foot into that slipper while you're holding it, Lord--” Though she knew his name, she hesitated. How was a maid supposed to address an earl?!

  “Charmington,” he finished for her. “I'm Lord Charmington, but you are welcome to call me James.”

  “I don't think that would be proper.”

  “Maybe not,” he agreed. When he smiled up at her, Cynthia swore she could feel her knees turning into rubber. Lord Charmington had to be the most aesthetically perfect human being she had ever laid eyes on. He had intense blue eyes, a perfectly square jaw, and the most supple lips she had ever seen on a man. He was the definition of handsome, and he would likely make any unsuspecting female weak in the knees. “But who cares about propriety? On this day, let us make an exception. You may call me James, and I will call you--”

  “Is that your clever way of learning my name, my lord?” Cynthia asked. She looked down the hallway, terrified that she would be caught conversing with the handsome lord.

  “It might be.” Right before her eyes, his smile turned into a grin.

  “I'm... Cynthia,” she said. “Now, will you return my slipper?”

  He was still on his knees, holding out the slipper toward her. “Of course. Just slide your foot inside...”

  “Now that is improper!” Cynthia gasped.

  “Is it?”

  “It is!” Cynthia crossed her arms. “What if my bare foot should happen to brush against your hand?!”

  “I expect that it will,” Lord Charmington said. “In fact, I anticipate it.”

  “But does that not seem... intimate?”

  “When skin makes contact with skin, it is almost always an intimate experience,” the earl said. “And that, Cynthia, is why I am anticipating the moment when your foot brushes against me.”

  Cynthia held out her hand. “You really won't hand it over?” When she saw him shake his head, Cynthia heaved a high-pitched sigh. “Very well...” As she slipped her foot into the shoe, her ankle brushed against his knuckles. The contact, as brief as it was, sent a ripple of chills along her spine.

  When he stood, Lord Charmington put his hands on his hips—a decidedly cocky stance. “There. That wasn't so bad, was it?”

  “N-no.”

  “You know...” Lord Charmington stepped forward, leaving little space between them. Their close proximity made her eyelashes flutter dreamily. “You're very beautiful.”

  “I... am?”

  “Yes.” He was so close, she thought she could feel his breath on her cheek. “I hope you don't think my compliment is imprudent?”

  “It is.” Cynthia tried to take a step backward, but her back was already against the wall, and there was no where she could escape. “Imprudent
, improper, inappropriate and... inaccurate.”

  “I can understand your argument for the first three, but... inaccurate? I think not!” Lord Charmington unabashedly brushed a finger across her cheek, which made her shudder yet again. “You're quite possibly the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.”

  “And you're possibly the handsomest man I've ever seen.” As soon as she uttered the words, Cynthia winced. She had no business enjoying a blatant flirtation with the handsome lord, not when the flirtation could be her undoing.

  “Possibly the handsomest, or most probably the handsomest?” he asked with a chuckle. When he saw her raise an eyebrow, he added, “I am only jesting! I would not want you to think I am vain, my dear Cynthia.”

  “I'm not your Cynthia.”

  “But I would love it if you were my Cynthia.”

  What exactly was he asking of her? To be his mistress? Cynthia tried to square her shoulders and strengthen her resolve, because she was sure he could be very persuasive. She wasn't going to be Lord Charmington's Cyprian! “I should really be on my way, my lord. There is much work to be done, and--”

  “You were reading,” he interrupted.

  “Come again?”

  “In the garden... I saw you there,” he went on. “It looked as if you were reading something.”

  She nodded. “I was.”

  “How fascinating.” His fingers started toying with a wisp of hair that had escaped from her bun. “You know, I'm really impressed. I haven't met many servants who could read.”

  Cynthia swallowed hard. What if he suspected she was a lady of quality? “I... taught myself.”

  “You taught yourself how to read?!” James asked with a gasp. “How does one go about doing such a thing?”

  “Willpower and determination,” Cynthia said. “It wasn't so hard, really, once you learn all of the letters.”

  “Fascinating...” he repeated. “And... there's something about your manner of speech. You're very well-spoken.”

  “For a servant?” she added.

  “No. For anyone! You're certainly a diamond in the rough, aren't you? You read, you're dignified... you're stunningly beautiful.” As he spoke, Lord Charmington bent his head forward, as if he was going to kiss her. If he happened to close the gap between their mouths, Cynthia was not sure she could resist. “And I am convinced you have the most beautiful eyes in the entire world.”

  “My eyes are nothing special, my lord.”

  “James. Call me James.”

  “I'm a servant,” Cynthia reminded him. “It would be wrong for us to be on such... familiar terms.”

  “Did I not say I would make an exception for you? Now, as for your eyes, I happen to disagree with you. They are special. They're light and bright and blue and beautiful. I could lose myself in your eyes for all eternity.”

  “I should really get back to my work...”

  “And your hands!” Lord Charmington seized her hand and cradled it, like something made of glass. He brushed a thumb across her knuckles, awed by their softness. “They're petal-soft and positively perfect. These don't look like hands that are accustomed to labor.”

  “I'm... very young, my lord,” Cynthia said. “I haven't been a maid for very long. Until recently, I lived with my family.” And it was true, for the most part.

  “And how young are you? You aren't too young to enjoy a flirtation with an amorous earl, I hope?”

  “I am one and twenty. Not too young, but I have no intention of enjoying a flirtation with anyone.”

  “Well, that's a shame, because I am more intrigued with you than I have ever been intrigued by anyone,” he confessed. “I could see myself idolizing you.”

  “Please... this is... a bit much,” Cynthia said. She skirted around him and hurried down the hallway, putting as much distance between herself and Lord Charmington as she could.

  “When can I see you again?!” Lord Charmington called after her. “Please, give me some hope! Don't leave me in misery!”

  She gave him no response. The pretty maid rounded a corner, and then she was out of sight. When she was gone, James could feel his spirits sinking. Even if she was a servant, she really was the most interesting woman of his acquaintance, and he wasn't going to let her get away that easily.

  He would have to return to Montforth Hall on the morrow and pray he would cross paths with her again.

  Chapter Nine

  “So, you wanted to know what I thought about Lord Magnificent?”

  At the moment, Cynthia and Robert were collecting linens from various guests rooms. Tess, who seemed to be the woman in charge, said it would be their duty to wash the bedsheets. Cynthia had already gathered a significant bundle, which she tossed on the floor by her feet. She watched Robert rake a blanket from the bed, then he tossed it at her.

  “I suppose...I am curious to know your opinion,” Cynthia said. They had been working together for several minutes now, and yet it was his first attempt at making conversation. Cynthia wasn't too thrilled by the prospect of spending time with Robert, whose snide banter often tested her patience. But it wasn't as if she had a choice in the matter. Tess paired them up quite frequently.

  “Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but he's your usual lord,” Robert said with a shrug. “A pompous fop, nose in the air, dressed up like a dandy...”

  Cynthia would have crossed her arms in protest, but the blanket in her arms was bulky and cumbersome. “I think you forget where I come from, Robert. My father was an earl!”

  “The late Lord Montforth was an exception,” Robert said. He grabbed the last linen and threw it into a pile, which was twice the size of Cynthia's pile. “And he's not to be confused with the current Lord Montforth, who is quite possibly the most ridiculous man I've ever laid eyes on.”

  “Well, I must agree with you there. However, I am going to have to disagree with you about Lord Charmington! I had the pleasure of meeting him, and he was a very handsome, charming, engaging man!”

  “You met him?” When Robert turned to her, he had his hands on his hips. “I thought you were supposed to avoid him like your life depended on it?”

  “I was. But we had an encounter in the hallway. He sought me out.”

  “Really?” One of Robert's thick eyebrows was raised. “And what happened during this illicit encounter? Was it love at first sight? Is Prince Charming going to save the princess from her dire fate?”

  “I don't think that's any of your concern, Robert.”

  “Really? Well, that's a shame. I was hoping I could make it my business,” Robert said with a grin. “You see, I have a habit of sticking my nose where it doesn't belong.”

  “That I believe.” Cynthia gathered her linens and hoisted them aloft. Her bundle was so enormous, she could barely see Robert over the immense pile. “Now, Robert... you're the only one who knows about my meeting with James. Whatever you do, please keep it between you and me. I don't want anyone else to find out.”

  “James?! You're already on a first name basis with the man? Then it must really be love at first sight!”

  Robert collected his bundle and nudged open the door. Together, they waddled down the hall with their massive piles of dirty bedsheets. The next bedroom they entered was a guest room that hadn't been occupied in ages.

  “For your information, Robert, I do not believe in love at first sight!” Cynthia dropped her bundle and went to the bed.

  “Awww. And here I was thinking you've been hopelessly in love with me from the first moment you saw me!” When he saw her incredulous expression, he added, “Ah, don't give me that look! I'm only teasing you, Princess. I know you only have eyes for Lord Magnificent.”

  “I don't have eyes for anyone,” Cynthia assured him. She watched Robert yank the blankets from the bed, and when he did, a giant dust cloud erupted in his face. He was possessed by a temporary coughing fit, which almost had her feeling sorry for him.

  As Cynthia stared at the mountain of linens they had collected, she wond
ered how she was supposed to carry them. Any human being would surely struggle to heft such a heap. “Why couldn't we have deposited half of these in the washroom?! This seems a bit... excessive.”

  “Nah. It's best to gather them all at once,” Robert insisted, squinting. The dust was having a lasting effect on his eyes, which were red-rimmed with irritation. “So, does Lord Magnificent know who you are?”

  “Lord Charmington thinks I'm a maid. At least... I think he does. He did seem awfully suspicious.” Cynthia lifted her bundle and toddled to the door. “Are you done asking questions?”

  “Why do you ask? Are my questions annoying?”

  “Yes,” she answered firmly. “Quite.”

  “Then no, I'm not done asking questions,” Robert said with a grin. But his grin was wasted, as she could no longer see him. Once again, the linens were obstructing her view. “I rather enjoy being an annoyance.”

  Cynthia left the room and hurried to the washroom. She had hoped to leave Robert behind; unfortunately, it was only a matter of time before he caught up to her. She could hear him squawking behind her.

  “Oh, Cynthia, you are too fun to tease!” Robert laughed. “I'm only trying to lighten the mood! Don't you need a laugh?”

  “I do need a laugh! Alas, your humor is lost on me!”

  “CYNTHIA!”

  When she heard her name, Cynthia winced. She recognized the speaker, and it definitely wasn't Robert. Cynthia tried to peek around the bundle, and when she did, she saw Georgiana heading toward them.

  “Well well, Cynthia, you look rather busy,” Georgiana haughtily observed. “But not too busy for me, I hope?”

  Cynthia tried to sound aloof. “Is there something you require?”

  “Actually, there is. I was hoping you might be my... personal servant for the day,” Georgiana said. “I think it's ridiculous that Mama and Roland won't hire any more servants, when I obviously require the assistance of a maid.”

  “What do you want, Georgiana?” Cynthia asked gruffly.