by Jo Goodman
She thought she had escaped as beneath their notice and was ready to flee down the hall when the last man through the door stopped beside her and picked up her chin, forcing her to lift her face. She stared at him without expression in her eyes, not daring to pull away or show insolence as he inspected her with careless regard. His nostrils flared slightly as his eyes fell to the level of Rae's thumping heart and the rise and fall of her breasts. He dropped her chin and sauntered into the room.
Rae quickly shut the door to the dining room with herself safely in the hallway. For a moment she could not move, and from inside the room she could hear the man who had held her say, "Really, Nigel, you have some of the comeliest wenches in the Isles serving you. Why is it that you never have them warming your bed?"
"I always thought your tastes were rather plebian, Newbrough," Nigel said, dismissing the subject.
Rahab pushed away from the door and for a moment she found it difficult to breathe. Newbrough! It did not seem possible! Could it really be Jericho's cousin inside that room? Rae shivered when she thought of the way he had held her, looking down his hawkish nose at her, and the spark of interest she had seen in his face, particularly in his wide-set eyes. She would do well to stay out of his way. While the duke saw his female help as only that, at least one of his guests thought them no better than warm bricks in a cold bed.
"We do not listen at doors here at Linfield," a disapproving voice said in Rahab's ear.
Her hand flew to her throat but did not cover her surprised gasp in time. The man towering over her had to be Stephens, and there was nothing for it but that she apologize. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, bobbing slightly. "I wasn't really listening, not intentionally anyway, but one of the duke's guests frightened me and—"
"Your regrets would have been sufficient," Stephens said dryly. "Come away from the door, girl, unless you want everyone to know your business."
Rae stepped further into the hall and mumbled another apology that was nearly drowned out by the rumbling in her stomach.
"Now what is this about one of the duke's guests?" Stephens felt it incumbent upon his position to protect his staff from the unwanted attentions of the quality, if indeed, they were unwanted.
"He touched me," Rae said, flushing. It sounded inadequate to her own ears. Stephens would think her a fool.
"How?"
"He made me lift my face for his inspection. I thought he would check my teeth as if I were a mare at auction."
"That will be quite enough," Stephens snapped. "You may go to the kitchen now and have your breakfast. There are some matters you and I will discuss concerning your employment later today."
Realizing she was being dismissed, Rae gave Stephens a quick curtsy and hurried toward the kitchen. Behind her, Stephens stared at her retreating form thoughtfully, wondering what it was about this chit that should remind him of a certain colonial sea captain who had come to Linfield years ago. In the end, he dismissed it from his mind putting it down to her regrettable accent.
After eating breakfast under the sharp eye of Mrs. Timms, Rae followed Nancy about the house and learned more about her position. She gave Nancy's chattering half her attention while she thought of her upcoming meeting with Stephens. In her mind she formed the sort of questions she expected him to ask of her and tried to think of answers that would placate him.
She already knew she did not want to be dismissed from Linfield. Rae was confident she could leave anytime she wanted, but if she went away now she did not know how Jericho would find her. Even as she thought his name, she resolutely pushed it aside. She was dangerously close to weeping each time she recalled him escaping the ship and risking his life to bring help. She felt she owed it to him to stay in one place, rather than striking out on her own.
As long as the duke did not know her identity, she believed she was safer at Linfield than she would be anywhere else. It occurred to her that if she was careful she might even discover Nigel's next move against Ashley. That would be the time to leave, and not one moment before.
Stephens cornered her in the late afternoon when she was dusting the library shelves. The duke and his companions were out riding, and Rae was humming to herself as she went about her work, knowing for the present she was out of harm's way.
"Come down from there, girl," Stephens said, pointing to Rae's position on the ladder.
Rae hurried down and fidgeted with her feather duster as she stood before Stephens. "You wanted to see me?"
"I can see you well enough. I want to talk to you."
"That's what I meant."
"Then say what you mean, girl. No, don't start apologizing, else this interview will never be at a close. Now tell me how you came to be with those men who claimed to have Miss Ashley. And tell me truly. I will not suffer liars among my staff."
Rae chose her words carefully. "I was abducted from my home nearly eight weeks ago. Those men thought I was Miss Ashley."
"Why would they think that?"
"I told them I was, you see."
"I am afraid I do not see. Explain yourself more clearly."
"I live at McClellan's Landing, sir. I've worked there nearly all my life. Miss Ashley lives there, too, with her husband. When some strangers came to the plantation and began asking about her, I feared for her, because once before someone had tried to take her away. She has always been kindness itself to me, sir, so I didn't want any harm to come to her. She loves living at the landing, and she even confided in me that she never wanted to return here. Her confidence was dear to me, so I told them I was she—and here I am." Rae was certain Stephens could detect no lie, because she had told none. "What's to become of me, sir?"
Stephens's mouth softened a bit. He could not find fault with Rae's story, and he admired her for her loyalty to her employer. "That is entirely up to you. What sort of position did you have in the colonies?"
"I was Miss Ashley's personal maid."
"Really?" An eyebrow arched in disbelief. The chit was giving herself airs.
Rae blushed. "Well, not her maid precisely."
"Pray, then. What precisely were your duties?"
"I did much the same as I'm doing here. Dusting, laying the fires, polishing. I looked after her children, made candles and butter, dressed hair. A little of everything, I suppose."
"Indeed. The Americans have no sense of station, do they?"
Rae bit her lip to keep from laughing at the butler's offended sense of what was correct. "I'm sure I wouldn't know. Though I admit things seem a bit different here."
"I hope so," Stephens said dryly. "Regarding what is to become of you, you may have employment here as long as you prove satisfactory. The circumstances of your birth and your arrival cannot be helped. You will conduct yourself in such a fashion as befitting one of Mrs. Ritchie's staff. You will not be making candles, dressing hair, or, God forbid, playing nanny to any children. Your wages will be six pounds per annum, and you will have one Saturday and one Sunday off per month, though not in the same week. You will keep yourself out of his grace's path, for he cannot help but be offended by your speech. If you value your employment here, you will not mention your association with Miss Ashley to anyone. The duke forbids anyone to speak of her."
"But she's such a fine lady," Rae protested, thinking Stephens would find it strange if she did not.
"It is no lady that would take flight with a Yankee trader. And that is my final word on the subject."
"But—"
"My final word. I will not make allowances for your pert tongue again." Stephens turned his back on the astonished Rae and left the room.
Later that night Rae slipped beneath the cool sheets of her bed, her body in a limp state of exhaustion, but her mind spinning restlessly. Jericho was in her every thought, and she lacked the strength as well as the desire to erase his image from behind her closed lids. She wished she had not been so drugged that she could not even assure herself that he had made it safely to shore. She smiled weakly, remembering hi
s whispered talk about a swimming lesson in a sylvan setting. How she wished they were in that spot now.
The little boy in him that demanded that everything should be counted would number each tiny freckle on her sun-drenched skin with his mouth. He would start at her forehead, brush her nose and cheeks, pay particular attention to the gentle slope of shoulders. His lips would pay homage to her breasts and slide past the taut plane of her abdomen. He was a thorough rogue, for he would inspect her navel, kissing it just to make sure nothing had escaped his notice. Then he would tease her by going to her ankles, knowing all the while that she desired his mouth elsewhere, and he would turn her slender calves in his hands, stroking them with his palms and getting a sense of their fine curves. His lips would touch her knees, and he would probably ask her a series of silly questions about the tiny scars there. She would have to concentrate on her answers; it was so difficult to talk when he kept kissing the soft inner flesh of her thighs. But if she did not answer him he would stop, and that was worse than anything she could imagine.
So she would tell him that once she had fallen from the top of the apple tree that Salem had dared her to climb, and he would press a smile to the crescent-moon scar. Then he would touch another, and she would say that was from tripping over her own feet as she ran to keep up with her older brothers when they were doing their very best to be rid of her. That would make him laugh, and the sound of it would ripple through her like a warm breeze through her hair. She would be so encouraged that she would offer to show him the barely discernible mark on her hip. It had been made when her horse had failed to clear a fence and she fell on a loose stone. Jericho would have to look closely to see, and mayhap his kisses would cover a lot of territory so he could not fail to miss it.
He would nip her gently on her hip, teasing her with his teeth and tongue, and then his mouth would draw ever nearer to the little bud of sensation at the apex of her thighs, moist with her body's musky honey.
A sob of pure longing shook Rahab and she clutched her pillow to her breast.
"Rahab?" Nancy called her name softly from the other bed. "What is it? Are you ill?"
Rae sobbed into the pillow, unable to answer, and after a moment she heard Nancy slide out of her bed, then felt her gentle hand on her shoulder. "Rahab? Please tell me what is the matter."
"I—I miss my f—family. And J—Jericho."
"Aah," Nancy said wisely. "Of course you do. You're sick at heart for your home." She continued to pat Rae's back. "Tell me about Jericho. Is it as grand a place as Linfield?"
Rae gave her a watery giggle and sniffled loudly. "It's not a place. Jericho is the name of the man I love."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"You couldn't know."
"No, I mean I'm sorry you've been separated from him. How you must hurt! I don't know what I'd do if I was to be taken from my Jack. Like as not I'd drown in my own tears, just as you're doing. Go on, have a good cry."
Rae did. Several minutes went by before Nancy gave her a handkerchief and she blew noisily into it. "Thank you. I feel better now—I think."
"A cry always helps a bit. Does your man know what's happened to you—about the pirates and all?"
"Yes. He knows, and I'm certain he's doing everything he can to find me, but I miss him so."
"Listen, I have an idea! When we next get a day off together, we'll go to the village and post a letter with a ship bound for the colonies," Nancy assumed Jericho was still overseas, and Rae did nothing to right the record, but there was something she had to straighten out.
"It's the United States of America."
"What? Oh, you mean the colonies. Yes, well I'm certain the letter will find him no matter how we address it."
Rae was so astonished by Nancy's response that she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Seven years of fighting and none of it had ever touched this girl. Rae bit back a stinging reply, realizing it was hardly Nancy's fault she knew so little of what had touched nearly one-third of Rae's life. "I could write my family," she said after a little thought. "Perhaps they could arrange passage."
"That's very expensive," Nancy said gently, trying not to stab at Rae's hopes.
Rae nodded without further comment. She sat up and made a place beside her for Nancy. "May I confide in you?"
"Of course you can. We'll be fast friends, you and I. And don't worry that I gossip. I can't abide it."
Rae hoped Nancy could not see her smile in the darkness. She imagined this was going straight from her mouth to Jack's ear, but she needed to speak to someone more sympathetic than the butler, even if she could only talk in partial truths. Quietly she related the same story she had told Stephens that afternoon, while Nancy listened raptly. "Tell me why the duke forbids anyone to speak of Miss Ashley," she said when she finished.
"She disobeyed him," Nancy explained simply. "He arranged a most enviable marriage for her. She would have had position and title and wealth nearly the equal of the duke's, and she refused to wed Lord Bosworth. She shamed the duke. I know you think Miss Ashley is a fine lady, but she is naught but a by-blow. She was fortunate to have the duke as her guardian."
Rae sighed. Nancy was nothing if not loyal. Poor Ashley. No one understood what her life here had been like. "Do all the servants feel as you do?"
"Why yes." Nancy's voice lowered confidentially. "That is to say, there are some who think the duke is something of a libertine, and not all approve of his licentious behavior, but regarding his ward, he acted as a saint. No one will fault him there."
Rae held her tongue. Surely there was no more certain way to lose her position than to speak ill of the duke. She would not forget that. Carefully she said, "Do you not think it odd that the duke would want to take her away from her husband and her children and the new life she has made for herself?"
"Who can say if it is odd?" Nancy shrugged. "Quality is a source of amazement to me. I've heard Mrs. Timms say that the duke doesn't recognize Miss Ashley's marriage. I don't pretend to understand or judge. Like when I found that horrible weapon fastened to your leg. I didn't judge you harshly for that, even though I thought it the strangest thing."
"What are you talking about? What weapon?"
"The dagger. Didn't you know it was there?"
"No. Jericho must have done that."
Nancy, for all her saucy ways, had never allowed any man to see more than a bit of ankle. "Oh my."
"Where is it now?" she asked, pretending not to hear Nancy's startled accents. "You haven't thrown it away, have you?"
"No. It's under the mattress." Nancy scooted off the bed and lifted the padding enough to find the dagger. "Here it is." She gave it to Rae. "Never say you're going to wear it!"
"Jericho meant for me to have it, so of course I will."
"But there are no savages here!"
Rae laughed without humor, recalling the way Newbrough had looked at her. "Are there not?" she asked softly, running her finger along the wooden edge. "I wish I were so certain."
* * *
Rae wore the dagger in spite of the fact that Newbrough left a few days after Nancy had given it to her. She never had occasion to see him again. Lesley and Evans departed a week before Christmas for their own estates, and Rae settled into the routine of her new way of life. She was up before dawn and busy well into the evening. If she had been able to go outside more often her day would not have been much different than those she had known at the landing. The other servants warmed to her once they saw she was willing to do her share and more. Even Mrs. Timms thawed when she realized Rahab was not going to cause a stir in the household. Indeed, it seemed the duke did not know of her existence.
Christmas at Linfield was not an especially festive occasion. Rae shared a syllabub that Mrs. Timms had specially prepared with the household staff and watched the great yule log burn in the dining room fireplace while Stephens gravely thanked the employees on behalf of the duke for their splendid service. That night she cried herself to sleep, and Nancy was kind enough
to pretend she hadn't heard.
Shortly after the New Year the duke left for London on business. There was nothing to indicate to Rae that his business had anything to do with Ashley, so she tried to enjoy his absence. She thought Mrs. Ritchie's particular standards would relax with the duke gone, but if anything, the housekeeper became more demanding. "She's forever afraid his grace will come back before he's due," Nancy confided in her, "so she doesn't dare let herself be open to criticism." Rae smiled ruefully and continued to polish the brass candlesticks for the third time in two weeks.
Rae was in the kitchen eating her breakfast when the striking of pots and pans beyond the door announced the tinker had come to call. He shook snow off his stooped shoulders and feet as he stood in the doorway. Mrs. Timms was already giving him the sharp edge of her tongue for tramping snow that far into her kitchen. He merely grinned, which deepened the creases about his mouth and eyes.
Rae felt sorry for him when she saw him struggle to take off his gloves and move his stiff fingers. He glanced about the kitchen with no more than a stranger's curious interest, until his eyes fell on Rae's face. It was the briefest of pauses, so that Rae thought she might have imagined the surprise in his arrested look. In the next moment he was ignoring her and sidling closer to the hearth to warm his hands.
While Mrs. Timms was pulling out the pots that needed mending and some of the other servants were gathering around the door to see the wares the tinker had in his cart outside, Rae prepared a steaming cup of tea for the man.