by Eva Shepherd
Separated by class
Brought together by passion
Having finally fulfilled her dream of opening a hairdressing parlor, Nellie Regan has no interest in love ruining her plans. After Nellie is caught mocking landowner Dominic Lockhart’s lifeless engagement to Lady Cecily, she’s not expecting him to defend her in a tavern brawl. Now the frustratingly handsome gentleman must recuperate in her home! Close quarters stir simmering attraction...but Nellie’s determined to follow her head, not her heart. Is Dominic willing to do the same?
The real Dominic Lockhart had returned.
The man she had briefly seen, the one who could laugh, who could relax, even talk about how he felt, had once again become hidden behind that wall of superiority and reserve.
Well, so be it. She may have harbored ridiculous fantasies last night when they were side by side in bed, but that was all it could possibly be.
“Right, well, I for one have work to do today,” Nellie said, standing quickly.
“I’m well aware of the long hours that servants work.”
She stared at him for a moment, wanting to give him a lecture on the working conditions of most servants, but once again registered the bruising on his face, now turning various shades of green, blue and yellow. He did not need lectures from her. She’d accused him of being haughty, but if she hadn’t been so haughty when they first met, if she hadn’t been so determined to make him feel uncomfortable, he’d now be lying in his own bed, his face unscathed by fists and boots. Meeting her had caused him so much harm. He was right. He should return to his own world as soon as possible.
Author Note
Nellie Regan featured as a lady’s maid in Beguiling the Duke and Awakening the Duchess. She was never happy being a secondary character in someone else’s story and I had to work hard to stop her from taking over. Now she has her own book, where her big personality and even bigger aspirations take center stage.
The late Victorian era was a time when feisty women like Nellie were starting to challenge the status quo that kept people of her class and sex in their place. It was also a time of growth for the middle class and saw a rapid expansion of shops and businesses, such as Nellie’s hairdressing parlor, which catered to this “new” money.
Mr. Dominic Lockhart is also one of the new men who emerged in the Victorian period—men with money but no real status in a society where having the right background often meant more than how wealthy you were.
I loved writing Nellie and Dominic’s story and hope you enjoy reading Aspirations of a Lady’s Maid.
EVA SHEPHERD
Aspirations of a Lady’s Maid
After graduating with degrees in history and political science, Eva Shepherd worked in journalism and as an advertising copywriter. She began writing historical romances because it combined her love of a happy ending with her passion for history. She lives in Christchurch, New Zealand, but spends her days immersed in the world of late Victorian England. You can follow her on evashepherd.com and Facebook.com/evashepherdromancewriter.
Books by Eva Shepherd
Harlequin Historical
Beguiling the Duke
Awakening the Duchess
Aspirations of a Lady’s Maid
Visit the Author Profile page
at Harlequin.com.
To Dawn, Jamie and Fernando.
Thanks for making working in the “broom cupboard” so much fun. And to Hayley B, thanks for my beautiful website and all the IT help.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Excerpt from The Warrior’s Princess Prize by Carol Townend
Chapter One
England—1895
Just look at them...unbelievable. Nellie Regan shook her head and released a disdainful sigh. It was supposed to be a celebration, but you would think the assembled guests were attending a funeral. Although even a wake back in Nellie’s native Ireland would be more enjoyable than this woeful ball at Hardgrave Estate, being held to celebrate the engagement of Dominic Lockhart to Lady Cecily Hardgrave.
From her discreet vantage point behind a large potted palm on the minstrels’ balcony overlooking the ballroom, she watched the supposedly happy couple waltz round the parquet dance floor. They were barely touching each other. There was no smiling, no laughter, not even an exchange of pleasantries. It was as if dancing together was a duty, not a pleasure.
No, Nellie would never understand the upper classes. Their formality, stiffness and lack of passion. It was as if they were a separate species from the rest of humanity.
She shook her head again. If this engagement party was taking place among people of her own class, there would be laughing, singing, hugging and kissing. People would be drinking to the health of the engaged couple, who would be brimming with love and happiness.
But this couple looked as if love and happiness were foreign concepts they had never heard of. She gave a quiet laugh. And even if they had heard of love and happiness, she suspected they would consider such things far too common for the likes of them.
Although Mr Lockhart certainly did look handsome—Nellie would give him that at least. Tall—slightly over six foot, she estimated—with coal-black hair, olive skin, and a strong, clean-shaven jawline that at this late hour bore a hint of dark stubble. Yes, he was quite something. And his black swallow-tailed evening suit certainly gave him a manly quality that was undeniably attractive. Especially as it showed off his broad shoulders—something Nellie had to admit she was a tad partial to. And that white-silk waistcoat, high stiff collar and white tie showed off his dark good looks to perfection.
As she watched him glide his partner across the dance floor and around the elegant ballroom, she also had to admit that Mr Lockhart was a superb mover. You’d think a woman would be pleased to be in the arms of such a commanding, graceful man, but Lady Cecily’s tight face suggested it was all too much for her to have to endure.
Nellie drew in her lips, flared her nostrils and put her nose in the air in imitation of Lady Cecily’s pinched expression. All this touching and what not...it’s simply not done. She laughed quietly to herself.
The engaged couple did another circuit of the floor and Nellie’s gaze was drawn to Mr Lockhart’s dark brown eyes, eyes as dark as a moonless winter sky, and just as cold. She slowly shook her head, sighing deeply. Why did he have to look so miserable? This was his engagement party after all. He might be handsome, but all those good looks and that manly countenance were a bit of a waste really if there was no passion to go with it. No, Nellie would never understand the upper classes and nor would she ever want to.
She looked around the room and saw the Duchess of Somerfeld dancing with her husband. They seemed to be the only people at this dismal event who were actually enjoying themselves. Perhaps it was because the Duchess was American that she was able to relax and have a good time. She hadn’t been
infected by that unfortunate condition which affected so many members of the English upper class, the stiff upper lip.
The Duke and Duchess whirled round the floor, causing Nellie to smile. Unlike the engaged couple, there was no doubting their love for each other—it could be seen in every glance, every touch, every smile.
The Duchess was the only reason Nellie was present at this sombre engagement party. She had worked for the Duchess before her marriage, when she was still Arabella van Haven, and had accompanied her from America to England. The Duchess had always treated her with respect and they were as much friends as servant and mistress. The Duchess now had a new lady’s maid, but for special occasions such as this society event she still liked Nellie to attend her. Although her days as a servant were over, Nellie was happy to oblige the Duchess. After all, the Duchess had done so much for Nellie, she had even financed her in her own business.
But Nellie planned to pay her back every penny and would add on a healthy amount of interest as well. The Duchess had said it was a gift, not a loan, but Nellie was determined never to be beholden to anyone.
She smiled with satisfaction over the direction her life was taking. At the end of the weekend she would return to her own London establishment, the Venus Hair and Beauty Parlour, proprietress Eleanor Regan. The hairdressing parlour catered to a growing number of middle-class women who wanted to look as if they had their own lady’s maid, but couldn’t afford the expense of another servant.
Oh, yes, she had come a long way from when she’d left Ireland for America ten years ago at the age of thirteen following the death of her parents and had found work as a scullery maid in the van Haven household.
She closed her eyes briefly and drew in a slow breath as the memory of her loving parents flooded her mind. Opening her eyes, she blinked away her unshed tears and forced away all sadness. There was nothing to be sad about. She had been lucky to find employment with the van Havens. It had been a much better fate than was suffered by many Irish immigrants trying to make a new life in New York.
She had been very lucky indeed and there was nothing to feel sad about, especially now. She flicked another glance in the direction of Dominic Lockhart and his fiancée. No, her life was exactly the way she wanted it and she wouldn’t change a thing. Unlike people of their class, Nellie had worked hard for everything she had and that had been a good thing. It made her resilient and appreciate what she had, while those born to wealth had everything handed to them on a silver platter.
Or, more to the point, handed to them on a silver platter by their servants, who worked endlessly behind the scenes to make their lives run smoothly and ensure their every need was catered for before they even had to ask.
The ruling class might have a life of ease, but that didn’t seem to be making them happy. Mr Lockhart and Lady Cecily were proof of that. The pinched expression on Lady Cecily’s face gave the impression that dancing with her fiancé was something to be endured rather than enjoyed and Mr Lockhart’s granite-hard face suggested he was performing a duty expected of him by society, rather than holding the woman he loved in his arms.
These people seemed incapable of letting go and truly enjoying themselves. They didn’t seem to realise just how lucky they were to have so much wealth and privilege.
And no wonder. They had no challenges, no obstacles to overcome. Their only challenge was how to fill their endless spare time and spend their huge fortunes. That was a fate Nellie knew she could never endure. Being busy made her happy. She liked to know she was making something of her life through her own hard work. And she especially loved doing a job which she knew she was good at.
She scanned the room again and released a loud, disappointed sigh. She wasn’t hiding out on the balcony to spy on Mr Lockhart and his fiancée, even if that is what she had ended up doing. Her only reason for lurking behind this large potted palm was so that she could observe the ladies’ hairstyles. But she need not have bothered. Not one of the guests was wearing the latest French fashions or the more modern and daring styles coming through from America. None, that is, except for the Duchess of Somerfeld and that was due to Nellie keeping up with the latest trends. She certainly had no competition from any of the other guests’ lady’s maids.
Now that she had got what she came for, there was no reason to remain up on the balcony watching the ball below. Her gaze moved once again to Dominic Lockhart. No reason at all. And there was certainly no reason to keep staring at the guest of honour, a man who, even if he wasn’t way out of her class, she wouldn’t be interested in anyway.
Just by looking at him she could tell what sort of man he was. He was certain to be arrogant—that superior tilt of his head and the way he held himself so erect proved that. He probably knew just how handsome he was as well—after all, it was certainly something Nellie had noticed right away. But a handsome face and aristocratic bearing doesn’t make a man attractive, not in Nellie’s eyes anyway. How could a man be attractive when there’s no laughter, no enjoyment of life?
No, Mr Lockhart was certainly not her type.
She looked over to where the footmen were standing, lined up like a row of soldiers in uniforms of red and gold livery. Those men were more her type. They were having to act all proper and formal while they were working, but she was sure that, when they were off duty, they’d know how to have a good time. And one footman in particular interested her. He wasn’t quite as handsome as Mr Dominic Lockhart, but he came a close second. The footman wouldn’t be finished his duties until well after the last guests had left, but hopefully he’d be up for a bit of flirting to round off the evening. And looking down at the doleful event, she suspected the footman would be free from his duties very soon. Most guests had the look of people wanting to make their escape and only a few couples were still dancing. Nellie swayed gently as the band played ‘The Blue Danube’ while she watched the remaining dancers shuffle round the floor, their noses firmly in the air, their bodies rigid.
Unlike the footman and the other servants, Nellie knew her services would not be needed again this evening. While most lady’s maids were required to help their mistress undress, the Duchess preferred to leave that task to the Duke.
No, there was nothing keeping her here. She sent one last gaze in the direction of Mr Lockhart, then headed towards the back stairs that would take her to the servants’ area. As a lady’s maid she was entitled to spend her non-working time in the housekeeper’s comfortable sitting room with the other higher-ranked servants, but that would be as much fun as the engagement party. The upper servants aped the manners of their employers and seemed to see laughing and enjoying themselves as something far beneath people of their exalted station. Instead she would spend the rest of the evening in the kitchen, with the jolly cook and the giggling scullery maid while she waited for the handsome footman to come off duty.
* * *
Dominic Lockhart took his fiancée’s gloved hand and escorted her off the dance floor and back to her parents, the Duke and Duchess of Ashmore. The party was a triumph for both families. His engagement to Lady Cecily would restore his family to its rightful place in society, a place that should never have been denied them. And Lady Cecily was assured the comfortable life a woman of her status expected. A life that her increasingly impoverished family was struggling to provide.
He nodded to the Duke of Ashmore, his future father-in-law, and bowed to the Duchess, both of whom smiled at him with satisfaction. They, too, could see the advantage of this marriage. While Hardgrave Estate was a magnificent country home, set in many acres of lush farmland, one didn’t have to look too hard to see that it was in dire need of extensive repairs, something the Hardgrave family could ill afford.
Even this once-elegant ballroom was displaying signs of neglect. If one looked closely enough you could see the patches where gold leaf had flaked off the ornately carved ceiling. The large crystal chandeliers had candles in only every second cand
le holder and some of them were tallow rather than wax. This gave the room an unfortunate acrid smell that couldn’t be entirely disguised by the large bouquets of scented flowers adorning every corner. And a discerning eye could tell that some of the paintings lining the walls had been replaced with cheap reproductions, not to mention the occasional square of faded wallpaper, showing where the family had had to sell off art works to pay their mounting debts.
He had met Lady Cecily a few times over the years, as, like himself, the family had a home in the Kent countryside, but had never considered her a prospect for marriage. He had been somewhat surprised when her father had suggested this arrangement, but it was an eminently satisfactory one. At twenty-seven he knew it was time he settled down and got married. He had been in the process of taking an inventory of the available young women with the required status who would make a suitable match, but the Duke of Ashmore had cut short this process by suggesting his daughter Cecily as a suitable bride.
A family with such a long and distinguished lineage as the Hardgraves’ might once have been reluctant to align themselves with a man who came from such a dubious background as himself, but now their reduced circumstances meant they were more than happy with their daughter’s intended.
And it wasn’t just a perfect match because it would be so advantageous to the Lockhart and the Hardgrave families. He and Lady Cecily were so well matched in temperament as well. She was serious and demure and would make any man an ideal wife. Perhaps they were a little cool towards each other, but surely that was all for the best. Look where great passion had led his parents, on a downwards trajectory until they were completely shunned by society.
He smiled at Cecily and received a pinched smile in return. One could only hope that in time she would start to relax and they could have a more cordial relationship. After all, her father had told him she had agreed to the engagement readily enough when he had suggested it to her and she had repeatedly told Dominic she was pleased with the arrangement.