Freddie.
Dear God, at least he’d told her his real name. But then, hadn’t she suspected this was coming?
Lady Westbrook put her hands on her hips and demanded, “Will someone tell me what is going on here?”
Faith rather wished for the same, but not until she could digest some of this information. She headed for the door.
“Mercy, wait!” She cringed at the sound of the name and turned to find Freddie following her with desperation in his gaze. “Please, I wanted to tell you, meant to in fact, but I was—”
“Sworn to secrecy?” she guessed. When he appeared taken aback, she said, “Don’t worry. You’re not the only one who’s been living a lie these past few days. I’m not Lady Mercy. My name is Faith Albright, her ladies’ maid.”
His eyes widened slightly and some of the color bled from his face. “You’re—”
He couldn’t even seem to finish the sentence, which seemed rather ironic. “My thoughts exactly, Lor— Mr. Bartholomew,” she hastily corrected. She glanced beyond him to where the viscount’s mother still waited with a rather severe expression. “I need to go, and it seems you have some explaining to do.”
She didn’t wait for Braxton to open the door for her, but then, now that she was no longer a well-bred lady, such gallant gestures were over. In truth, she should leave by the servant’s entrance, but she wanted to offer one last show of defiance before it was all stripped away.
Faith quickly hailed down a hackney and made her way back to the duchess’ residence. When she walked inside, she sought out the lady, who was in her private sitting room. She knocked lightly on the door and once she was bade enter, she walked in and sank down into a nearby chair with low spirits. “He knows.”
“The viscount?” the lady clarified. She was sitting on a chaise reading a book, but she set it down in her lap with a frown. “I thought we had a deal, Miss Albright.”
Faith didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “We did, we do, but there’s been a development. It turns out Freddie is not Westbrook after all — but his valet.”
The duchess blinked, and then she surprised Faith by breaking out into laughter. “Oh, this is just too delicious!”
Faith silently disagreed, for it sounded like more of a mess to her.
“Surely you can see the irony in this situation,” the lady continued. “Both Mercy and Westbrook have avoided the chance to get to know one another by sending someone in their place. But once they return, they will have to try and explain why they acted in such an immature manner, not only to each other, but also to their parents. The lesson that will be learned will be harsher than any I might have imagined for my great-niece.”
Faith couldn’t argue with the fact that Mercy would have to atone for her sins, and by the furious look on Lady Westbrook’s face when she’d left, she had no doubt her son, viscount or not, would get quite the earful when he returned from wherever he’d been.
“At least I won’t have to worry about dressing up like this anymore in an effort to impress anyone.” She gestured to her gown. “I’ve never missed my uniform so much.”
The duchess didn’t have time to reply, for there was an urgent knock at her chamber. When a maid entered, she offered a curtsy and said, “Pardon me, Your Grace, but the Marquess and Marchioness of Newthyme have just arrived.”
Faith’s heart immediately lodged in her throat. “They’re early,” she breathed in horror. She turned wide eyes to the duchess. “What shall we do? They weren’t supposed to arrive from the continent for another five days.” She jumped to her feet and began to pace. “I must change—”
The lady slammed her cane on the floor. “You will do no such thing. Your attire is proof of Mercy’s underhandedness. We shall greet them as we are, and then you will explain the situation in detail.”
She swallowed thickly. “In… detail?” she asked weakly.
“Yes,” the lady returned adamantly as she got up and headed for the door. She paused in the frame and glanced back at her. “Well, come on. Don’t dawdle.”
Forcing her shaking legs to support her, she walked forward. She gripped the staircase railing as she headed downstairs as if she was going to meet the executioner, rather than her employers. They had always been kind and willing to listen to any grievances their servants had, but in this case, Faith had the feeling that they wouldn’t be quite so forgiving. After worrying over her position by remaining faithful to Mercy, she might have lost it by embarking on this little adventure.
The middle-aged gentleman and lady were removing their outerwear when the marquess glanced up and caught sight of the elderly duchess. “Aunt Mary Ellen,” he greeted with a warm smile, as he walked over and bussed her on the side of the cheek. “I trust you are well?”
“I may be in my eighties,” she pointed out with a thump of her cane, “but I’m hardly in my dotage just yet.”
“Of course not,” he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with apparent amusement. He glanced beyond her to see Faith standing on the steps and for a moment he discounted her, until his eyes narrowed and he looked a bit closer. “Miss Albright? Is that you?”
Even in her fine muslin, she curtsied respectfully. “Yes, my lord.”
He chuckled. “I nearly didn’t recognize you without your uniform. In truth I almost thought you were—” He stopped abruptly and said with a slight frown, “Where is Mercy?”
The duchess glanced at Faith, and she believed that she might actually cast up her accounts as she said, “She isn’t here.”
“Then where might she be?” he said curtly.
Faith swallowed heavily and nearly whispered, “Brighton.”
The marquess folded his arms across his chest. “She was supposed to come to London to meet with her affianced, Lord Westbrook, and now you’re telling me she left the city?”
“She never came.” Faith wanted to sink through the floor, but she held her spine straight as she said, “I was sent in her place to meet the viscount.”
As Mercy’s father digested this, her mother strode forward with anger etched into every line of her face. “Stubborn child! I should have known that she would do something like this, but I never imagined you would condone such treachery, Miss Albright! It makes me wonder if you are suitable to be a proper ladies’ maid after all.”
Mercy hung her head in shame, but to her surprise, the duchess came to her aid. “Miss Albright is a bright young woman who was doing naught but what her mistress asked of her. She is a loyal and faithful servant who may not have made the best choice when it came to agreeing to Mercy’s harebrained scheme, but we all know that the gel has always been rather reckless.” She stared pointedly at the marchioness who didn’t disagree with the lady’s statement. “While I don’t condone Miss Albright’s actions, I don’t believe she should be the single one who should be punished for this misdeed. And although you might find it difficult to believe, Mercy is not the only one who deceived us. It turns out Lord Westbrook sent a decoy in his place and as far as I know, his whereabouts are, as yet, unknown.”
Chapter Eight
That night, Freddie reclined in his bed in a plain shirt and trousers and threw a ball up in the air and then caught it, only to repeat the maneuver several times over. As a boy, growing up in East Sussex, he’d always enjoyed playing cricket. When he’d left his family to make his own way, he took the one thing that had always remained constant in his life — a cricket ball. Not only did it help to calm him by seeing something familiar, but in times of deep thought he also used it as a focal point.
At the moment, however, he wasn’t sure if anything could ease the ache in his chest, nor the feeling of ultimate guilt he was feeling for lying to Lady Mercy… or rather, Faith Albright, if what she said was true, although he had no doubt it was.
He had to snort, for what were the odds that both the viscount and Lady Mercy had chosen to reject their duties for their own selfish pursuits? Someday he might find the humor in the situation he was
currently embroiled in, but not until this mess was resolved.
At least Lady Westbrook had taken her leave after a long and thorough accounting. To say that she was highly displeased was an understatement. By the time she’d called for her carriage to be brought around, she was fit to be tied — and on her way to Brighton. Braxton had been forced to tell her where the viscount had gone or else face her wrath. Freddie hadn’t been spared her sharp tongue either and berated them both for their role in this “absurd debacle,” as she’d called it, and Freddie wasn’t inclined to disagree.
He blew out a heavy breath as a knock came at his door. Distracted, he missed the ball and it fell to the hard wood with a loud thud, before it rolled under the bed. With a wince, he decided he would get it later as he got up and walked over to answer the summons. It wasn’t a surprise to see Braxton on the other side.
He said nothing, just opened the door wider for him to enter. While Freddie’s room was modest with a small bed, washstand, dresser, and a couple of chairs near the fireplace, at least he didn’t have to share the space with another servant like the maids did.
The butler sat down in one of the chairs and withdrew a silver flask. “Fortification?” he asked.
Freddie chuckled as he sat down and accepted the offering. “Don’t mind if I do.”
For a moment, they said nothing more, just passed the brandy back and forth until Braxton tipped back the last and then set the cap back on it and tucked it away. “I’ll be surprised if I have a position after this.”
Freddie nodded, for he wondered the same.
“I’m not sure if I should be upset at Westbrook, or impressed that our ruse lasted as long as it did.”
“Indeed,” Freddie murmured. “I thought for sure I would be recognized the first time I wandered out in society, as if there was a sign on my forehead that read ‘Imposter.’”
“You weren’t that bad,” the butler returned. “In truth, you were rather convincing. I was almost under the impression that you had some blue blood running through your veins.”
“I’m afraid not,” Freddie corrected. “I’m just the son of a village farmer and a seamstress.” He stared down at the floor. “The days when times were tough, but much easier than dealing with the aristocracy.”
After a brief hesitation, Braxton said, “I don’t believe that the viscount meant for things to turn quite this sour. In truth, I think he imagined this swap to be more of a lark than anticipating any hurt feelings among those involved.”
“But people did get hurt,” Freddie noted. “Not only is his mother rather livid, but what about Lady Mercy when she finds out? And her parents?” He paused and said more softly, “Miss Albright?”
The butler regarded him steadily. “You were starting to care for her, weren’t you?”
Freddie smiled thinly. “I’m not even sure who the lady truly was. Everything she said to me could have all been part of her role as Lady Mercy.”
“Just like everything you said to her was Westbrook?” the butler pointed out.
Freddie sighed. “Leave it to you to bring up the most obvious error,” he muttered.
“At least one good thing has come out of this.”
He snorted. “What could that possibly be?”
“Since Miss Albright is a ladies’ maid, it means you’re on common ground. There’s no need to set your feelings aside if you wish to court her. The playing field is open if you wish to try and make amends.”
Freddie had already considered this, and discounted it, and reconsidered it again. “I’m afraid that ship has sailed, Braxton. You saw the way she looked at me when she left. She would just refuse to see me if I tried. And to be honest, I’m not sure if I want to.”
“It’s your choice, of course,” Braxton said as he got to his feet. “But knowing what a good and loyal man you are, I can only imagine that she is of similar character. Yes, both of you may not know the real person deep down inside, but unless you give each other a chance, you might miss out on something worth actually keeping.”
With those parting words, he exited the room, leaving Freddie with more than just his current situation to ponder.
***
Later the next morning, after a fitful night’s sleep, Faith ignored all of the dresses that Mercy had loaned her and donned her uniform—a plain gray dress with a white apron. She looked in the crude mirror and her reflection looked almost…foreign. She’d been a servant a lot longer than she’d ever been a “lady,” but with her brown hair pulled back into a simple, serviceable knot at the nape of her neck, she had to admit that she’d become accustomed to some of the finer things life had to offer. She’d even given up the plush guest chamber, and even though the duchess had told her she could continue to sleep there until Mercy arrived, she knew it wasn’t her place, and the quicker she remembered that, the better off she would be.
After the tense reunion with the marquess and marchioness, they had taken their leave and headed for Brighton to find their errant daughter. Faith dreaded the moment when they found Mercy, but since there was nothing to be done for it, she had no choice but to wait for their return, whereupon she would learn of her fate. She could only hope that they let her go with a good reference, so that she might find suitable employment elsewhere.
If not…
But she refused to think that way. To do so would bring nothing but bad luck her direction.
“Miss Albright, the duchess requests your presence in the front parlor.” Anne, the girl that had been her acting ladies’ maid stood in the doorway of her modest third-floor room.
If nothing else, Faith wondered if perhaps the duchess might like a companion. She felt that the older lady liked her, even though she’d brought a veritable hornet’s nest into her household.
She started for the door, but Anne stopped her. “Not like that. She wishes for you to go on an errand for her, and she said that you would have to be outfitted properly.”
“Very well.” She started to walk over to the wardrobe, which held the few dresses that she’d worn to the village upon occasion in Croydon.
“You’ll find nothing in there.”
Faith turned to see that Anne was holding out a mocha colored satin dress with light blue lace.
Faith’s eyes stung with tears, for it was the dress she’d been saving for a special occasion with the viscount — for Freddie. But now she tamped down her emotion and said, “She couldn’t possibly mean for me to wear that. It’s entirely too formal to wear to the market.”
“She didn’t say anything about the market, Miss Albright.”
Faith waited for her to elaborate, but when she didn’t, she sighed and shrugged her shoulders in defeat. “Very well.”
After she was changed, Anne said, “She also asked me to fix your hair.”
While Faith couldn’t imagine why she would have to look her best just to go on some mysterious errand, she didn’t complain, but sat down and allowed Anne to work her magic. This time, when she glimpsed herself in the mirror, she once again, saw the lady that she would never truly be.
Pushing against such maudlin thoughts, she headed downstairs to the front parlor. However, the moment she walked over the threshold, she stopped short, for there was a tall figure standing near the mantel. When he turned, Faith had to steel herself against the sight of Freddie in gentleman’s garb. Dressed in a pair of buff breeches, tall black boots and jacket with an amber and gold threaded waistcoat and crisp white cravat, he looked like a true gentleman.
“What’s going on?” she blurted before she could think better of it.
The duchess was sitting on the rose-colored settee with her hands on top of her cane. “It appears to be a guest, and you’re being rather rude.”
Faith opened her mouth, but snapped it shut when the lady stared at her pointedly.
“Perhaps we might have a moment, Your Grace?”
The deep timbre of Freddie’s voice flowed over her skin like the sweetest honey, but she did her best to r
esist the pull.
The duchess glanced between them and stood. As she walked past Faith, she said, “I entrust that you will be on your best behavior?” As she reluctantly nodded, the duchess added, “Just hear him out.”
After that, Faith was left alone with the man she had come to adore, but who was really nothing more than just a stranger.
For a moment, silence fell between them, neither of them acting as though they were sure what to say to break the tension and create a more relaxed atmosphere. Finally, Freddie offered a tentative smile. “Miss Albright, allow me to introduce myself properly.” He bowed slightly and said, “My name is Freddie Bartholomew, and I am the current valet to the Viscount of Westbrook, meaning I may be dismissed upon his return.” He winced. “I was raised in the country in East Sussex near the Village of Hellingly. My father was a farmer, and my mother was a seamstress. I was their only child, but I made several friends with the local boys. One of my favorite pastimes was playing cricket and getting into mischief.”
At this, he grinned more broadly, and Faith would have to be without a heart not to be affected by the charming sight.
But then something that he said sparked a memory in her brain and caused her heart to race. “I was raised near the hamlet at Maynard’s Green. We would travel to Hellingly quite a bit to take our crops to market.”
He chuckled lightly. “Indeed? We might have seen each other on occasion without even realizing who the other was.”
“Then it would rather be like our relationship now.”
Faith couldn’t resist addressing the obvious issue, for it hung between them like a dark cloud, but even as she did so, the humor evaporated from his face and he glanced down at the floor, almost like a recalcitrant child.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Faith.”
She wanted to thrill at the sound of her name passing through his lips, knowing that he truly saw her now as he did so, but that didn’t erase the frustration that she was feeling, because there was no way to know if everything he’d done or said was truly real. Even so, if she wanted to know the truth, then she had to be honest as well.
The Brunette Who Stole His Heart Page 7
