Never a Mistress, No Longer a Maid (Kellington Book One)

by Maureen Driscoll

  “Odd that we’ve never been formally introduced, after everything we’d been through,” said Ned. “Although I could’ve sworn we had been. Is it Jane Johnston? Or another surname all together? Can I believe anything you say? After all, your name isn’t the only thing you lied to me about.”

  Jane packed her satchel without looking at him, but Ned noticed the hands which had been so calm during the surgery were now trembling.

  “Will it make you laugh to know how long I searched for Iris Johnston? I even hired a runner from Bow Street, only to be told no such woman existed.”

  He looked for her? Jane couldn’t believe it. What would he have done if he’d found her?

  “Look at me,” Ned said, as he grabbed her arm and turned her toward him.

  Jane looked into the eyes she’d seen every day for slightly more than six years. Her daughter’s eyes. But these eyes held anger and something too intense for Jane to look at. If he was upset now, how would he feel if he discovered her secret?

  His fingers were lightly but firmly clasped about her upper arm, sending an unwanted fire through every part of her.

  “Lord Edward,” she said, “I sincerely regret misleading you all those years ago, but a woman must protect herself and I didn’t know whom to trust.”

  “You knew you could trust me.”

  “Did I? We knew very little about each other. We were two strangers in extraordinary circumstances. You saved my life and will always have my gratitude, but I cannot say we knew each other to any great extent.”

  “Then you have a most faulty memory, madam, because as I recall, we know each other very well indeed.”

  Jane blushed from the roots of her hair all the way to her boot-clad feet. “Yes, Lord Edward, I recall the night to which you refer, although if you were a true gentleman, you wouldn’t remind me of such a lapse in judgment.”

  “Lapse in judgment? I believe I’ve been insulted. Can you honestly tell me that night was nothing more than a mistake?”

  Jane avoided his gaze. Could it be possible that he’d thought of her through the years, even if it was only a fraction as much as she’d thought of him? The Kellington family was so well-known that word of their exploits even reached as far as Marston Vale. She’d heard little of Edward until he returned to England six months ago. The gossip sheets, which occasionally found their way to her table mostly because she sought them out with a morbid combination of eagerness and dread, were filled with speculation about when he would settle down and which unhappily married matron had her eye on him.

  Could such a man be interested in her after all these years? Would he ever consent to settle in sleepy Marston Vale? Because Jane knew she could never leave. Not with so many people depending on her. And, most importantly, could the brother of a duke ever risk scandal by marrying a woman with an illegitimate child? Even if that child were his. Especially if that child were his. Because Jane had a feeling Edward wouldn’t take kindly to her having deceived him about the child. He hadn’t even liked being lied to about her name.

  Jane knew a future with this man wasn’t possible, so there was nothing to be gained by wishing for it. She pulled away from him.

  “Where do you live?” he asked.

  She stowed the satchel in her saddle bag.

  “That’s no concern of yours.”

  She looked for a mounting block, then felt strong hands at her waist. He turned her toward him and she lost the ability to breathe. He looked at her for one long moment and Jane was equally afraid he would kiss her and that he wouldn’t. Well, perhaps, not equally afraid.

  Then he lifted her easily and placed her in the saddle.

  “This isn’t finished between us,” he said. “Don’t think for a moment that it is.”

  He turned and walked away.

  Jane galloped toward home as fast as her horse could run.

  * * *

  As Knightley meandered down the lane, Ned thought about what had just transpired. The woman had lied to him. Well, he’d known that for years, ever since all three runners – he hadn’t quit after just one – had told him Iris Johnston didn’t exist. So he knew that had been a lie. But why was she lying now by professing no interest in him? The chemistry between them had been palpable. If he’d kissed her as he’d wanted, she would’ve let him. Given her response when their hands first brushed against each other and again when he lifted her to the saddle, he probably could’ve done a great deal more than simply kiss her.

  Because with Jane, there’d be no such thing as a simple kiss.

  Ned groaned. How many nights had he spent trying to forget about making love to her? He’d bedded more than his share of women over the years and had a reputation as an excellent lover. The women he’d been with were experienced. They knew how to please a man. But for some reason, that one night with the passionate virgin had somehow spoiled him for everyone else.

  And with that dreary thought, he looked up to see that Knightley the traitor had somehow led him to Barrington Manor. As he turned into the drive, he saw first one maid, then another scurry into the house. Apparently, he’d been spotted.

  A groom came running to take his horse. The door to the manor opened, then an army of servants rushed out to line up. The viscount came out accompanied by Lady Barrington. They were followed by their three beautiful daughters. Diamonds of the first water, all of them. Ned thought this might not be such a terrible ordeal after all, if the ladies hadn’t looked as if they were cats and he a bowl of cream the size of Carlton House.

  “Lord Edward, welcome to Barrington!” said the viscount, as he bowed perilously low for a man quite rotund.

  “Indeed, you are most welcome, Lord Edward,” said Lady Barrington. “A duke’s brother! Such an honored guest to come into our home. We are most exceptionally thrilled to accommodate you. And surely you are anxious to see your fiancée, the lovely Madeleine.”

  “Miss Merriman is indeed lovely, my lady, but as a formal engagement has not been entered into, I’m sure I cannot claim the privilege of having her referred to as my fiancée, although it would be an honor to me, I am sure.”

  With that pointed-yet-polite evasion, Ned bent over Miss Merriman’s hand. He was surprised to find his lips on her fingers, or, more accurately, her fingers on his lips, since he couldn’t quite remember bringing her hand up.

  Ned turned to his host. “Lord Barrington, it’s been a dreadfully long day. I don’t suppose I can bother you for some refreshment?”

  “Capital idea, my son. Tell me, how is the duke?”

  With that, they went inside where Ned was determined to have no more thoughts about the vexing Jane or her passionate responses to his lightest touch.

  But he knew he had no hope of success.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Ned awoke the next morning to the sound of running footsteps. They continued to pass back and forth down the hallway outside his room until finally he gave up all hope of sleep and rang for Rigg.

  “Miss Merriman,” said Rigg later as he began to shave his master, “is quite particular about her clothing. If she is displeased in even the slightest way, the entire staff must needs attend her. And today, she found a wrinkle on not just one gown – heaven forfend – but on a second in the distant recess of her rather voluminous wardrobe.”

  “And for that her servants had to wake the entire household?”

  “I am quite sure that wasn’t the lady’s intent when she rang for her maid, then sent her back to the kitchens after boxing the poor girl’s ears….”

  “She struck a servant?” Ned had no respect for those who abused their position of privilege.

  “My lord, I must ask you to not to speak when I have the razor at your throat. It is most disconcerting. I should not like to be hanged for slicing your throat open, even if it were to be accidental.”

  “And if it should be on purpose?” asked Ned of the man who’d fought side by side with him in battle and was more friend than servant.

  “Then I would
hold my head up high for the hangman’s noose. If I were so foolish as to be caught.”

  “Perhaps I should strike my servants.”

  “You could certainly try, my lord. One wouldn’t want to wager on your success.”

  “What else do they say below stairs?”

  “That Miss Merriman and the entire family are thrilled with the upcoming alliance with the house of Lynwood, although some say they’re surprised that Miss Merriman would – permission to speak freely, Lieutenant?”

  “Granted, before you do so any way.”

  “Some are surprised Miss Merriman would ‘settle’ for a second son.”

  Ned waved away Rigg to sit fully upright. “Do you know, Rigg, I am actually quite offended.”

  Rigg was genuinely contrite. “I am so sorry, my lord. Had I known those words would affect you thus, I never would’ve repeated them.”

  “You misunderstand. I’m not offended for me in the least. It is for Lynwood that I take umbrage. I cannot imagine the duke choosing Miss Merriman as a bride. I do not know the lady well, but from the ghastly scene last night I know her well enough to realize Lynwood would never take her to wife.”

  “I would not presume to know his grace’s mind, my lord. But I daresay he’d rather hitch himself to a poxy doxy than that shrew. Of course, I mean no disrespect to the lady.”

  “Of course not. How are you and our other servants settled?”

  Rigg had followed Ned in a carriage with the luggage, a coachman and a groom. With the speed Ned had reached the village, he’d regretted going on ahead. But if he’d stayed with the carriage, he never would’ve run into Jane.

  “I cannot vouch for the conditions in the stables – fortunately – but the staff have treated me well, with respect to how the servants of this household are treated.”

  “By your tone, I can presume they’re not treated well?”

  “The butler is stiff-arsed, but that lot usually are. My biggest concern, besides a roommate who snores, is that they scrimp on food. I was about to ask for a second helping last night, until I realized it would take food away from the more junior servants.”

  “I can’t have you starve, Rigg. I’ll find a way to get you better meals.”

  “I’ve survived on less, as have you. But I feel for the poor souls who work here.”

  “Are any of the servants talkative?”

  “All mistreated servants are talkative, my lord. Is there something in particular you’d like to discover?”

  “See what you can learn about a lady named Jane. Unfortunately, I don’t have a surname for her. She acts as the surgeon in these parts for the laborers. I came across her yesterday when I arrived in the village.”

  “You must’ve been quite taken with her after meeting her only once.”

  “It’s not the first time I met her.”

  Rigg raised an eyebrow.

  “She’s the Iris Johnston I was searching for.”

  “Iris Johnston, my lord! We searched for that lady for more than a year. And she’s here, you say?”

  “Yes. And I intend to speak to her again.”

  He needed to speak to her again. Needed to do more than talk to her, if he was completely honest with himself. He wasn’t going to allow her to disappear again, even if it meant prolonging his stay at Barrington Manor, a place he had no wish to be.

  After arriving the previous day, Ned had retired to his rooms to wash the travel dust from himself and rid his mind of the vexing Jane. One had been accomplished a great deal easier than the other. Then he’d dressed for supper at the ungodly hour of six o’clock, where he’d been seated to the right of Lady Barrington, to the left of Madeleine’s younger sister Hortense and directly across from his potential fiancée.

  Miss Merriman had certainly been a vision to behold. She’d worn a light green silk gown that complemented both the red in her hair and the blue of her eyes. She’d been able to convey a world of meaning through looks and the tilt of her head. And, unless Ned had been very much mistaken, the brush of her foot against his leg before the soup course had been anything but an accident. Watching the woman’s lips cover a spoon had been positively indecent and Ned had begun to wonder why none of it was causing even the tiniest bit of reaction in the region of his body that was seldom shy.

  So, in between listening to Viscount Barrington complain about the indolence of his tenant farmers and Lady Barrington asking that her good wishes be immediately conveyed to His Grace and the middle sister asking endless questions about bonnets and feathers, Ned had tried to imagine himself unwrapping the present that Miss Merriman seemed so determined to give him.

  She had a pleasing, curvy body. Something a man could hold onto. She had a mouth made for kissing. Plump breasts that pressed up against her bodice. And she’d certainly seemed to be willing. Maybe he should give her a chance.

  “So what do you think about our village?” Barrington had asked.

  Ned turned away from Miss Merriman to face his host. “Quite charming. Although, I stumbled across an accident this morning, a farmer who’d been injured.”

  “Farmers,” Miss Merriman had said, shaking her head so her curls bounced quite prettily. “They can be so vexing.”

  “This one was vexing only to himself. He needed a surgeon, but I was told none was available.”

  “What do you mean, ‘you were told?’” asked the Viscount. “You didn’t stop, did you?”

  “Yes, I did. Did you not wonder about the spots of blood on my clothing?”

  “We thought you’d shot some game on your ride from the city,” said Lady Barrington. “We believed you to be a sporting fellow.”

  “How silly you are, Mama,” said Hortense. “If Lord Edward had gone shooting, he surely would not have had blood on his clothes. I thought perhaps he’d been set upon by brigands. What a romantic story that would’ve been.”

  “Why did you have blood on your clothes?” asked Miss Merriman. “It seemed a terrible waste of a Weston jacket.”

  “I helped the man.”

  All noise within the room ceased as the family stared at him, shocked by his admission. Even the servants gawked at him.

  “I used my cravat as a bandage. If I hadn’t had an extra one in my saddle bag, I couldn’t have arrived at your door.”

  He’d looked at Miss Merriman, who’d seemed intrigued by the thought of him without a cravat. Or perhaps she’d been thinking of his jacket by Weston. It had been a most excellent coat.

  “What did you do once you bandaged the man?” asked Hortense.

  “That was what I wanted to ask you about. A lady named Jane arrived…”

  At once the spell around the table was broken. At the mention of Jane, the others exchanged looks. He thought the youngest sister snorted.

  “She’s nothing but an eccentric bluestocking,” said Miss Merriman with disdain. “Thinks to run around the countryside pretending to be a surgeon.”

  “They used to be friends,” confided Hortense, as she nodded to a footman to refill her plate. “Madeleine and Jane were always together growing up, until the scandal.”

  “What scandal?” asked Ned.

  “Well,” Miss Merriman began, altogether delighted to tell.

  She was interrupted by Lady Barrington clearing her throat so vehemently, one would think an entire side of beef was stuck in it. “Madeleine, my dear. Some things are not discussed at the table and never by ladies.”

  Miss Merriman had seemed extremely disappointed to be denied the chance to blacken her former friend’s name. And, suddenly, Miss Merriman, willing or not, had been much less attractive to Ned.

  “She touches farmers,” imparted the sister. “Everywhere.”

  “That is enough!” bellowed the Viscount. “Hortense, you will take yourself away from the table and go to your room. Such terrible manners in front of the brother of a duke! What will Lynwood think when he hears of this?”

  Hortense rose and left the table in a snit. Ned made a mental note to
learn in just what capacity Jane touched farmers.

  The rest of the evening had passed interminably slowly. The ladies had withdrawn, leaving Ned to talk to Barrington about hunting for a period of time that far exceeded the interest of either men. Then, when the excellent cigars from the Americas had been smoked and the awkward silence had stretched long enough, they joined the ladies. For the next two hours, the group had played whist and listened to ladies perform on the pianoforte. Miss Merriman had been technically skilled but played with no passion. As a whist partner, she’d been shockingly unskilled. As her foot had grazed Ned’s shin for the fourth time, he’d thought it best to claim fatigue from the journey and retire for the night.

  He’d given serious consideration to barricading his door.

  * * *

  Freshly shaven and dressed for the country, Ned stole out the back way, stopping in the kitchen only long enough to shock the staff and take an apple. He wondered if the Merriman family had ever stepped into the servants’ quarters. Growing up, he and his brothers had gone to the kitchens at least once a day, usually to steal biscuits from Cook. The staff at Lynwood had always been treated with respect. The only raised voices Ned could remember between family and servants had been when the servants needed to get the attention of rambunctious boys with more energy than sense. The only physical discipline had been the occasional swats on the bottom from Cook – with full authorization from their parents. To this very day, he, Arthur and Hal could make Cook turn a delightful shade of red when reminding her how many times she’d spanked the great Duke of Lynwood.

  As Ned left the Barrington property and walked into the woods, he thought about his parents and the love they’d showered on their children and each other. They’d been gone for eight years, ever since a fever swept Lynwood Manor in the country, killing both his parents within days of each other. As much as it pained all who knew them to lose both at once, theirs was such a deep bond that it would’ve seemed unnatural and cruel if one had been forced to live without the other.

  That was at the heart of Ned’s dissatisfaction. He wanted a marriage like his parents’. And he didn’t know if it’d be possible.