“As my employee,” he continued. “You need not fear. And no one can make crude assumptions.” Then, turning to his friends he raised an eyebrow. “Will that satisfy you, Ian?”
His friend sighed, then nodded and took her hand to help her up into the carriage. “You needn’t fear. He is a bit of a bear, but he won’t hurt you. I promise.”
It was as if the world had become a gauzy haze. Moving on a preordained path. She found herself sitting in the carriage wondering how she had gotten there.
After a quick round of goodbyes with his friends, he climbed up to join her. He shot her a quick scowl, then turned to look out into the night.
Ann fought to hold down the excitement and fear bubbling inside of her. A maid. What would that mean? Cleaning obviously. But would she live on the premises? Would there be other servants or would she be alone with this man?
The thought sent a fluttery feeling to her stomach.
Who was he? she wondered. Obviously rich. His clothes told her that. A fine top hat, gray gloves of the finest leather, polished boots. Then there was the way he had tossed that coin onto the street. Only a rich man would do that.
The thought sent a new fear through her. Did he believe that he had bought her? That his money gave him rights and privileges. The thought sent a fluttery feeling to her stomach. What would he want?
He was violent, she realized. The way he had dispatched Grainger’s men was a demonstration of controlled violence. Efficient, smooth, and without regret. He’d left two men lying in the street and shrugged it off as just another moment in his privileged life.
Of course, it had been to help her. But beneath it, she wondered if he had been looking for an excuse. Or perhaps, he had viewed it as an opportunity to claim her. Some men liked taking women from other men. It made them feel powerful. She’d seen it more than once.
Perhaps all of this was simply a way for him to gain another conquest.
He turned away from the window and examined her in the darkness. As if reading her mind, he said, “You can relax. I am not in the habit of taking my maids. It is rather unbecoming, in my opinion.”
Her insides didn’t relax the slightest. She was in the dark with a strange man on their way to who knew where. Of course, she didn’t relax. Silently, she cursed herself for not having a weapon. Nothing, not even a hatpin. A sense of weak vulnerability flooded through her.
The only chance she had was if he was a man of his word.
“Tell me your name,” he said.
Her back stiffened, no request. A demand. Was he always like this? Yes, of course, he was. A man of his position would know nothing but being obeyed.
“Ann,” she told him. “Ann Parker.”
He nodded solemnly. “A good English name. All you need do is listen to Mrs. Jensen. Do what she tells you and you will do fine.”
A feeling of dread trickled down her spine. A dozen stories of women acting as procurers for wealthy men flashed through her mind. And here she was without a weapon.
She was thinking of jumping from the carriage when it slowed down at the next corner. She was probably far enough away from Grainger and his men. At least for the night. But she would be jumping into a worse nightmare.
The fine houses and lamp-lit streets told her they had moved into the nicer part of London. The part that didn’t tolerate homeless women. They’d run her out of the area, there was no doubt.
Even if they didn’t, where could she obtain food in this area? Where could she hide? And Grainger had a long grasp. He wouldn’t accept her escape. He would have his men out looking for her across all of London.
No, her best bet was to go with this man. Be ready to fight or run if necessary. Bide her time. And hope for the best.
Chapter Four
The Duke of Bedford glanced at the woman in the far corner and shook his head. Mrs. Jensen was going to kill him.
But he couldn’t leave her there. Ian had been right. By stepping in, he had taken responsibility for her. Why? What had made him do it?
Something about her scream had forced him to act before he thought things through. Then, when she was free, it had been that innocent look of fear in her eyes that had moved him. It wasn’t just the beauty hidden beneath the dirt and threadbare dress. There was something else that made him act.
Who was she? Her speech held both a hint of the street yet there was something else. A sense of intelligence. More than street awareness. As if she had been exposed to something better.
Grumbling to himself, he returned to looking out the window. He would give her to Mrs. Jensen and let her deal with the girl. It wasn’t his problem.
“Why did those men want you?” he asked before he could stop himself. For some unknown reason, he wanted to know her story.
She grimaced as she looked down at her hands. “My father owed money to their employer.”
“That is what the courts are for,” he said as his brow creased in confusion.
A very unladylike snort erupted from the corner. “Grainger wouldn’t be caught dead within a hundred yards of a court.”
Bedford nodded. A criminal element obviously. The knife and kidnapping young girls should have been a dead giveaway.
“What were their plans for you?” he asked before he could stop himself. “How did they expect you to repay your father’s debt?”
She simply stared at him, then took a deep breath and said, “They planned to sell me to a brothel in Manchester.”
His stomach tightened in anger as he realized what she had gone through this night. No wonder she was as skittery as a barn cat in the main house.
“Well,” he said. “You need no longer fear that outcome. You will be working for me and therefore under my protection. I can assure you. They will leave you alone.
She slowly shook her head. “You don’t know Grainger.”
He snorted. “No, Grainger doesn’t know me.”
.o0o.
Ann could only stare at the man. He acted as if there was nothing to worry about. The man was a fool. He lived a privileged life and didn’t understand how things really worked in her world. But she was wise enough to hold her tongue. Men like this didn’t wish to be told they were wrong. It upset their understanding of reality.
Instead, she decided that she would use him to hide for a short while. If she was lucky, perhaps there was something she could nick. Something valuable enough to get her away from London and Grainger.
Yes, that was the plan. No one could protect her.
When the taxi pulled to a halt in front of a large mansion, her stomach fell as her mouth opened in surprise. Two stone lions guarded the approach to a fine white building. She had heard of such places. Rich, opulent homes overlooking St. James Park. The kind of place that would have called the King’s Guard on her if she had even thought about approaching.
“Come on,” he said with exasperation as he held out his hand to help her down from the taxi.
She swallowed hard as she placed her hand in his. A tingle traveled up her arm as she looked up into his dark eyes. There was something there. Something that made her insides jump with nervousness.
He pulled his gaze away as the front door opened, throwing a bright light out into the dark night. A short, balding man bowed slightly and said, “Welcome home, Your Grace.”
Ann froze then pulled her hand out of his as if she had touched a hot stove. She stared up at him aghast. Her feet refused to move as her world slid down a hillside into some unknown depth. Had the man said, ‘Your Grace?’
“Who are you?” she gasped.
He frowned for a second then said, “The Duke of Bedford.” As if it were not important. As if it were no different than being named John Smith. The man was oblivious.
“I can’t go in there,” she whispered as she took a step back.
He laughed. “Miss Parker just do what you are told to and things will go so much easier. It has been a long evening and I do not wish to spend the rest of the night arguing on the
street with one of my maids. It is rather embarrassing.”
Ann swallowed hard. The man was serious. Her heart skittered as she looked for an escape. The man was a Duke. A peer, one step from being a Prince. Her stomach rebelled as she forced herself to stay clearheaded.
She couldn’t work in a Duke’s residence. People like her were not even supposed to talk to people like him. The distance between their social status could not be greater. He was at the top of that pyramid. She was at the very bottom. In fact, it was impossible to be any lower.
“Come on,” he said again, this time with a hint of anger. “I assure you. I will not attack you.”
She could only stare up at him. The fool, he thought she was worried about being attacked. No, it was so much worse than that. She was now terrified of making a fool of herself. Or bringing shame to him and his house.
“Your Grace,” she said, “I can’t. I don’t know anything about working in such a house. I will…”
He scoffed, “It’s sweeping and cleaning. What is there to know?”
Still, she hesitated, deep down a silent hope began to build. Grainger would never cross a man like this. The entirety of the Kingdom would fall around his head if he even thought about it.
As she continued to fight with herself, His Grace sighed heavily then reached down, took her hand and pulled her into the house. Ann found herself propelled past the short butler and into a brightly lit entryway.
She gasped as she realized she had been pulled into the home of a princess. A polished black and white marble floor. Sconces with brand new candles, large paintings, and fine furniture polished to a high gleam. A long wide staircase with a thick wooden banister. The room smelled of bee’s wax and fresh flowers. As different from the London Docks as was possible.
Her head spun as she tried to take it all in without becoming overwhelmed.
“Thank you, Brewster,” the Duke said as he handed his hat, gloves, and cane to the butler. “Please send for Mrs. Jensen.”
The short man shot her a questioning glance that turned her stomach. She would know that look anywhere. She did not belong here and should be ashamed of herself for ever thinking she did. What the butler failed to understand was that she agreed with him.
The butler nodded to a footman dressed in red and gold livery. The footman immediately scurried down a hall and around a bend.
Within seconds a middle-aged woman dressed in gray with lace at her collar and cuffs and her hair up in a tight bun entered the hall and approached. A little stout with a steady gait, she reminded Ann of a landlord’s wife who would refuse to accept any excuse as to why the rent was late.
She gave Ann a quick look but her eyes never registered her opinion. Be careful, Ann told herself. This was a woman who was used to getting her way.
The woman curtsied slightly then frowned at the Duke. “You sent for me, Your Grace?”
Ann almost gasped, the tone of voice indicated a sense of familiarity that felt out of place for an obvious commoner such as this woman and a Duke.
The Duke surprised Ann by smiling at the woman. “This is Mrs. Jensen,” he told Ann. “My housekeeper. And the true ruler of my household. Please do me a favor and do not upset her. My life becomes unbearable when she is disturbed.”
The housekeeper smiled gently. “As you well know, Your Grace, the world works so much better when it listens to me.”
He snorted and shook his head. “I’ve brought you another maid.”
The housekeeper frowned at him. “We are not in need of another maid, Your Grace.”
Ann’s mouth dropped open. A person did not talk like that to a Duke of the realm.
He shrugged his shoulders and said, “Humor me, Mrs. Jensen. I don’t wish to go into the details, but the girl is in need of a position and I feel somewhat responsible.”
The housekeeper frowned as she turned to examine Ann from head to toe. Ann felt a sense of shame wash through her. She well knew what she must look like. A child of the street. Dirty, and clueless as to the proper proprieties of a young woman.
The housekeeper’s eyes narrowed. Ann’s stomach turned over as she realized the woman believed her to be a harlot looking to take advantage of her Duke.
Once more she silently cursed her father for putting her in this situation. For allowing his weakness to drag them down to the bottom.
She held her breath while she waited for the woman to make a decision. For some reason, she believed deep down that if this woman objected, the Duke might very well change his mind. She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders and tried to project a confident attitude.
The housekeeper sighed and shook her head. “Of course, Your Grace, we live to fulfill your demands.”
Ann almost gasped as she quickly looked to see how he would respond. She was surprised to see a twinkle in his eye as he smiled and shook his head. Then, without another word he turned and left them. As if she was no longer his problem.
“Come with me,” Mrs. Jensen said as she started to the back. Ann remained frozen in place as she watched the Duke leave them. What kind of man rescues a woman then dismisses her without so much as a goodbye?
“Now,” the housekeeper hissed with a hint of anger in her eyes.
Ann swallowed hard as she hurried after the woman. A sick feeling filled her as she realized that she must be careful. The wrong step and she would find herself back on the street like last night’s rubbish.
“What’s your name, girl?” Mrs. Jensen asked as she led her through the halls and down a small staircase to the servant’s quarters.
“Ann Parker,” Ann managed to replay. “His Grace, … he…”
“I don’t need to know.” the woman said as she waved her hand. “You do your job and we won’t have any problems. But, if you embarrass His Grace or this house, I will frog march you back to the hell he pulled you out of.”
Ann swallowed hard as she realized that there was someone to fear even more than Grainger.
Taking a deep breath, Ann made a promise to herself. She would do everything in her power to make this woman glad to have her on the staff.
The housekeeper took a candle from a sconce and opened, a door then indicated she should enter. Ann stepped into a small bedroom with two single beds on opposite sides. A small table between them with a china pitcher and bowl on top.
Her insides squealed with joy. The room was warm and cozy. So much better than the cold corner of a drafty warehouse.
Mrs. Jenson lit a candle. “This will be your room. You will be sharing it with Jenny. She is away and will return at the end of the week. You are expected to keep it clean. I will not abide slovenly people working for me.”
Ann swallowed hard as she nodded.
Mrs. Jensen examined her again as she shook her head. “Wash. Thoroughly. This is the residence of a Duke. You will be expected to act that way at all times. Do you understand?”
Again, Ann swallowed as she said, “Yes Ma’am.”
The housekeeper snorted. “I doubt it, but you will. In the meantime, keep quiet, do what you are told, and remember the number one rule. Do not upset His Grace. That means don’t be thinking of even flirting with the man. No batting of eyebrows and sly looks. I won’t be having it.”
“I would never think of it,” Ann gasped.
Mrs. Jensen studied her for a moment and shook her head. “The man is rich, handsome, powerful. You are a young woman. Of course, you are going to think about it. Just be sure you don’t act on those thoughts.”
A sinking feeling filled Ann as she realized this woman had the wrong impression. She believed that Ann was set on seducing His Grace. That she somehow manipulated the man into taking actions that he shouldn’t have.
“Mrs. Jensen,” she said as she stiffened her back and looked directly into the other woman’s eyes. “I can assure you. I am perfectly aware of how lucky I am to be in this position. Luckier than you will ever know. You may rest easy. I would never do anything that brought shame to this house or H
is Grace. Believe me, I owe him too much.”
The woman studied her for a long moment then nodded firmly. “See that you don’t and we will get on just fine.” Then with another frown and a quick shake of her head, the woman turned and left her alone.
Ann took a deep breath and sent up a silent prayer of thanks. She had survived once again. Then the realization hit her. She had survived because His Grace had rescued her. Without him. She would be in the clutches of Grainger and destined to a life of ruin and pain.
Chapter Five
The Duke of Bedford stared at the flames as he sipped his whiskey. The image of young Ann refused to be pushed aside. The way her eyes sparkled when she became angry. Those feminine curves that pulled at his soul. Reminding him, he wasn’t just a Duke, but a man. A man who could appreciate female beauty.
Taking a deep breath, he glanced at the clock on the mantel and raised an eyebrow. Almost at the same time, a firm knock at the library door made him laugh. “Come in, Mrs. Jensen.”
The housekeeper entered the library with a confused frown. “What were you thinking, Your Grace?” she asked. “What do you know about this girl? Does she have references? Experience? Need I remind you that people do not usually enter service via a Ducal residence. They work their way up to this.”
He laughed to himself. This was the one person in this world who could question his judgment. The daughter of his mother’s maid. She had been fourteen-years-old when she was roped into being his babysitter. Not a nurse, but someone to keep an eye on him and out of trouble. Back in that idyllic life before he had been shipped off to that hell known as The Chesterton School for Boys at the age of ten.
For seven years she had witnessed every disaster, misstep, and youthful adventures never once giving him up. How many of his mistakes had she cleaned up and hidden? She had always been on his side. That was why he gave her such leeway in these matters. She always had his best interest at heart. One of the few people in this world he could trust.
“It was either take her in,” he told her. “Or, see her sold to a brothel in Manchester to pay her deceased father’s debt.”
A Duke's Desire (The Duke's Club Book 1) Page 3