“I... um...” She had been dreading this conversation as much as she had been anticipating James' arrival. Cynthia didn't want to be indebted to anyone, but Robert was the only person she could rely on. “Lord Charmington is coming today to... to paint me.”
“Paint you?” Robert's left eyebrow wiggled. “You're not letting him talk you into anything too scandalous, I hope?”
“What? No!”
“And what exactly is this favor of yours?”
When he crossed his arms over his chest, Cynthia's reluctance increased. “I... need you to be the lookout,” Cynthia said. “If anyone catches me with Lord Charmington, it could very well be the death of me. Jemima would throw me out, and I would never hear the end of it from Georgiana...”
“If you were thrown out, I suppose that would be the end of it,” Robert said. “So... basically, you need me to keep watch while you conduct your tryst?”
“S-something like that.” Cynthia batted her eyelashes at him, even though saccharine gestures had no effect on him. “Although, I wouldn't call it a tryst. A tryst would imply there was something untoward going on, but there will be nothing of the sort! It will be innocent, I promise. I will simply be standing still as he paints my likeness.”
“While he stares at you longingly from across the room?” Robert raked a hand down the length of his face and snorted into the palm of his hand. “Very well. I couldn't possibly deprive you of your fun, Princess. I'll stand guard for you... although, I'm not sure how the day's work will get completed when we're both otherwise engaged.”
“I'll work twice as hard tomorrow, I promise! Now... I need to go into this room.” She motioned toward a door at the hallway's end. “He's waiting for me, so--”
“He's already here?! Goodness, you waste no time. So this is to be my guard post, I take it?”
“You have my gratitude, Robert. I mean it! I'll owe you a tremendous favor!” As she slipped through the doorway, she flashed him the sweetest smile she could muster. “I'm in your debt!”
Cynthia saw him open his mouth, but she slipped through the door before he had a chance to respond. For some reason, she wasn't comfortable with the idea of Robert's and James' worlds colliding. Their brief encounter in the servants' quarters was bad enough.
James was standing at the center of the room, setting up his easel and stirring his paints. As soon as he saw her enter the room, the air was sucked from his lungs. She was wearing her hair down, and her blonde locks were brighter than the sun. The golden waterfall flowed freely down her shoulders, and he longed to run his fingers through it.
“You...” he whispered, “You take my breath away.”
“I appreciate the compliment, my lord. However, I wish I was wearing something more appropriate than a maid's dress.”
“Nonsense. The beauty is in the simplicity of it,” he insisted. “If you don't mind, I'm going to have you sit on the settee.” When he saw her sit, James shook his head. “With your feet up, if you don't mind... as if you're reclining.”
Cynthia tried to follow his directions to the best of her ability. “I am sure I look silly.”
“No. You look beautiful. Truly radiant,” James objected. “Now, if you don't mind, there's one more request I would like to make.”
“Anything, my lord.”
“Bear in mind, I would not force you to do anything that would make you uncomfortable. If my request makes you uneasy, even in the slightest, I want you to be honest with me.”
“I...” Cynthia swallowed hard. “You're an honorable man, are you not? I can't imagine I would be uncomfortable with anything you might request.”
James dipped his brush into his mixed maroon and started painting an outline of the settee. “Then, if you do not mind... would you slip your dress off of one shoulder? I think the bared shoulder would be an... enchanting image.”
“Oh... I...” As she considered his request, Cynthia's body tensed. She was a lady through and through, to the point of being a bit prudish. While she was taken aback by his request, she couldn't bring herself to deny him. She tugged the dress off of her shoulder, bearing her milk-white skin and a hint of collarbone. “How is this?”
“Perfect. You are perfect. The loveliest woman in the world.”
Cynthia smiled, and the sight of her apple cheeks made his knees go weak. “You are very kind, my lord, but I know that is not true. I would not say I am plain, but I am nothing special.”
“No, you are. You are special,” he assured her. “I am sure this is inappropriate, but... no one has ever stirred my fantasies as you do. I see your face in my dreams. I hear your voice whispering in my ears. When I see the sky, I am reminded of your eyes... but the sky's color isn't half as brilliant.”
“You are... very kind,” Cynthia repeated. She could feel her face warming as she listened to his praise.
“When I hear the word beauty, from now on, I will always think of you... because you're the definition of the word,” he went on. “I don't know how I will get through today, through this painting. As beautiful as you are, it hurts to look at you.”
“Goodness!” she laughed. “Surely that is an exaggeration!”
“No. I mean every word I say.”
“Well, if it isn't too bold, I would also like to say... you are extraordinarily handsome, my lord.”
“I believe I told you to call me James, did I not?”
“James,” she repeated, and the mere act of uttering his name made her heartstrings flutter. “As a point of curiosity, how long do you think it will take you to finish your painting?”
“I've only just begun!” he laughed. “Surely you're not finished with me already?”
“Of course not! As I said, I am only curious.”
“Well... it takes the masters many months to create their masterpieces, but I should be able to finish in a few hours' time.”
Cynthia's tongue flitted out to moisten her lips. “Does that mean you are better than the masters?”
The sight of her pink tongue made him moan. When he collected his wits, he replied, “No! Of course not! My painting will be passable, at best... but I will try to do you justice. I am already wondering how I will manage to mix a color for your hair.”
“A simple yellow wouldn't suffice?” she asked with a chuckle.
“Oh no! Your hair is more luminous than a million heavenly stars.” James tugged on the collar of his cravat; being in her presence had a stifling effect on him.
When she saw his hands trembling, Cynthia asked, “Are you alright, my lord?”
“I'll live.” James took a deep breath and tried to steady his brush. “My heart is no longer in my possession, but I'll live...”
* * *
When he saw someone heading in his direction, Robert's eyes bulged. Then he realized it was Edith, and a portion of fear subsided. Being a servant, he wasn't too familiar with the ladies of the house, but he knew enough about them to know that Lady Edith was the lesser of two evils. Nevertheless, Cynthia had entrusted him with a task, and he needed to complete it to the best of his ability.
“Good morning,” Edith greeted him. She eyed the door behind him, but he didn't move.
“Good morning,” Robert parroted. “Although... it's more like afternoon, is it not?”
“I am not sure. These days, time alludes me. The older I get, the faster the time seems to fly. Is it just me, or does that not seem to be a sad fact of life?”
“Aye,” he agreed. “That does seem to be the case.”
Edith stared at the door for several seconds, but it was becoming obvious that he wasn't going to move. So she said, “Can I go in there?”
“In here?” Robert thrust a thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the door he was guarding. “This room? This one?! Really??”
“Yes. This room.”
“But this sitting room is... it is... dreadfully boring. Are you sure you don't want a different one? There isn't enough sunlight in there!”
“Really?” Edith raised a ske
ptical eyebrow. “I seem to remember a particularly large bay window in this room.”
“It's those dark curtains. They're drowning out the sunlight!”
“Curtains!? I don't remember any curtains.”
“They're... new?” Robert winced. He didn't think he would be so terrible at telling spontaneous lies.
Edith tried to reach behind Robert. When she grasped the doorknob, he gently pushed her hand away. Exasperated, she exclaimed, “Please, I need to go in there! I left my book, and I need to retrieve it!”
“And what book are we talking about? Is it that important? Think about it. There are loads of books in the library, just waiting to be read!”
Edith's ire wasn't easily raised, but the servant boy was testing her patience. “Please step aside.”
“You don't want to go in there!” Robert yelped.
“And why not?”
“I... I cast up my accounts! All over the floor! I kept retching and retching, and then I retched some more. Trust me, it isn't a pretty sight.”
“So you're... unwell?” Her tone was rife with incredulity; she did not believe him.
“It's a mess in there! You don't want to soil your pretty slippers, do you? As soon as Solomon comes with the necessary cleaning supplies, I'll--”
“You're hiding something,” Edith accused him.
“I'm what?!”
“You're hiding something,” she repeated. “You couldn't possibly make it any more obvious. The only question is... what are you hiding?”
“Reams of noxious bodily discharge?” he suggested hopefully.
“Step aside, please. I'm going in there!” Edith gave Robert a gentle nudge, then she pushed open the door. When she saw Cynthia sitting on the settee, shoulder bared, Edith's mouth fell open. Then her gaze traveled to Lord Charmington, who was halfway finished with a portrait of her stepsister.
Robert peered at Cynthia over Edith's head. When their eyes met, he gave her a sympathetic shrug. Having failed at his task, there was nothing left for him to do. Robert shoved his hands into his pockets, whistled a merry tune, and headed down the hallway.
“Cynthia...” Edith went inside and closed the door. “What is going on here!?”
“I...” She thought about covering her shoulder, but she didn't want to ruin Lord Charmington's painting. “I can... explain.”
“No, allow me to explain,” James cut in. “Several days ago, I encountered this pretty maid in the hallway... and once again in the library. I am hardly the world's most skilled painter, but I thought she would be a delightful subject. My apologies, Lady Edith, if you feel I have been surreptitious.”
Edith's eyes never moved from Cynthia. She was surprised—and perhaps a bit disappointed—that her stepsister would keep such a secret from her. Were they not friends? “It is really none of my business, my lord.”
“I would say it is your business, at least to some extent. I am in your house... with your maid. If I am unwelcome, you have every right to toss me out!”
Edith shook her head as she finally turned her gaze on James. “I would do nothing of the sort, my lord. As uncommon as it may be, Cynthia is my...”
Cynthia cleared her throat, fearing her stepsister would reveal too much. She was not ready to take that risk with James.
“My friend,” Edith finished. “She is as beautiful as she is kind. I am sure she would be a delightful subject to paint.”
“As would you, I am sure,” James said. “Perhaps I should paint you as well, Lady Edith?”
“I really think you shouldn't,” Edith laughed. “I have no doubt I would pale in comparison to Cynthia.”
“Nonsense,” the earl objected. “You're a handsome woman, and you should have your face captured on canvas.”
“While I appreciate your offer, I will politely decline.” Edith went to the bay window, where she collected her book. “However, for propriety's sake, I hope you don't mind if I stay. I do not think Cynthia should be alone with you, my lord.”
Cynthia opened her mouth to protest, but she didn't say a word. James was puzzled, and while his confusion was written all over his face, he held his tongue. Why would Edith be so concerned about the reputation of a maid? A maid who could read. A maid who spoke so eloquently. A maid with petal-soft hands, as if she had never worked a day in her life.
The more he learned about Cynthia, the more suspicious he became.
Chapter Seventeen
“I'm sorry I failed you.”
Robert's apology was surprisingly sincere, coming from someone who rarely took anything seriously.
“I tried to stand my ground. Really, I did!” Robert slung his bag over his shoulder; he had finished his work, and was leaving Montforth Hall for the day. “That woman was ridiculously persistent!”
“You needn't keep apologizing, Robert. It was only Edith... the damage was minimal,” Cynthia said. “In fact, I am the one who owes you an apology!”
Robert, who was about to leave the servants' quarters, paused in the doorway. “Oh, really? You're apologizing to me? Now this is something I must hear!”
“I haven't... well... as of late, I'm afraid I haven't...” Cynthia heaved a sigh before continuing. “As of late, I haven't been providing you much assistance. I've been ignoring my work... I've been focusing too much on my own interests. And for that, I apologize.”
“To be honest,” Robert winked at her, “you don't really provide much assistance even when you're not napping through the afternoon.”
Cynthia gasped sharply. “Robert! How unkind!”
“Oh, don't be angry. I don't mean it!”
Though he rescinded his words, his laughter was hardly encouraging. “You're so cruel!”
“No, I'm not! Didn't you listen to Tess? She said I'm a sweet boy!” As soon as his chuckles subsided, Robert collected himself and said, “Well, I'm going to head out. I'll be back tomorrow morning, bright n' early.”
“You're leaving early,” she noted.
“Well, I finished my work for the day, and Tess said I could go. Besides, my poor Gram's hands are in bad shape. She needs me to cook for her.”
Without thinking, Cynthia sprang from her chair. “Let me go with you!”
“To where? To Gram's?!” When he saw her nod, Robert winced. “I... don't know. I know I said you should meet her, but the more I think about it, I'm not sure I want my work mixing with my life.”
Cynthia joined him in the doorway, as if she was leaving him no choice. “What do you mean by that? Am I not a part of your life?”
“I... suppose.”
“Then let me go with you. Come on.” Cynthia linked arms with Robert and led him into the hallway. “You'll have to lead the way, of course, since I have no idea where we're going.”
“Hopefully you realize what an inconvenience this will be? By the time we get to Gram's, it'll be dark... which means I'll have to escort you back, I'll have to go out of my way...”
“Don't complain!”
By the time they left Montforth Hall, Robert had ceded to his fate. He kept his arm around Cynthia's as he led her away from the estate, toward a narrow woodland path.
“We're not riding on horseback?” When Cynthia glanced over her shoulder and realized Montforth Hall had disappeared, her stomach quaked. She rarely ventured far from the estate, especially on foot.
“Alas, I have no horses at my disposal... but fear not!” Robert exclaimed. “It's only a twenty- minute walk into town.”
The trees blocked out the sun; only a shred of light illuminated their path. Robert clung to her arm, leading her in the right direction. Along the way, they passed a wooden signpost. If the sign was to be believed, the nearest town was two miles away.
“Robert!” Cynthia pointed at the sign as they walked by. “This will be more than a twenty minute walk!”
“Not really. We'll reach Gram's cottage before we reach the town.”
“Well, I hope you're right!” She thought she heard the howl of a woodland critt
er, which made her body lurch. “These woods are unbelievable... like something out of a fairy tale!”
“Don't worry, Princess. There aren't any big, bad wolves in the forest. And my Gram isn't a wicked witch who will toss you into a boiling kettle... at least, I don't think she is. She may yet surprise me.”
Cynthia rolled her eyes at his attempt at humor. She would have commented on his bland joke, except they had turned a corner and arrived at their destination. His grandmother's house was a tiny thatched cottage nestled between the trees. One side of the cottage was engulfed in a tangle of vines, from which wild roses were sprouting. When they entered, Cynthia could feel all of her senses springing to life. She could hear the soft crackling of a log in the fireplace, the smell of burnt wood and onions.
Onions?
“Ohhhhh...” Robert shook his head with disbelief. “Do you smell that? Gram must be cooking!”
“Robert?” a woman's voice called from the next room. “Robert is that you?”
Robert winked at Cynthia. Of course, he couldn't possibly resist. “Actually, my name is Daniel David Robertson, and I'm here to steal your atrocious green and yellow shawl!” He grabbed the aforementioned shawl from a chair and wrapped it around his shoulders. “I got what I came for... so... it's much appreciated! We'll be leaving now!”
His grandmother responded, “And I'm supposed to believe this Daniel David Robertson has a ridiculous Irish accent, just like my looby grandson?!” As soon as she finished squawking at him, his grandmother popped her head out of the kitchen. When she saw Robert, she shook her head at him. “If you like my shawl that much, Robert, you don't have to make up stories just so you can snuggle it.”
“Actually, it's quite itchy, Gram.” Robert whipped the shawl from his shoulders, approached his grandmother, and wrapped it around her fragile body. “You can keep it.”
When Gram caught Cynthia's gaze, both women smiled. Robert's grandmother had a kindly face, a gentle disposition, and bright blue eyes. Her hair, once raven back, was a dull, wiry gray. There were several hairs on her chin, deep wrinkles shriveling her face, and her jowls sagged. When she smiled, Cynthia saw she was missing several of her teeth.
Maid to Be Mine: A Regency Cinderella Story Page 10
