Keeping her from pulling away, he hugged her close. “It gives me pleasure to see you taken care of. I should never have allowed you to be in such danger. I will never forgive myself for that transgression.”
She pushed away. “It wasn’t your fault. You can’t control the weather. It was a terrible accident, but it was not your fault.”
“Yet you are afraid to close your eyes, and I am responsible for your safety.”
Weakness made her uncomfortable. Though if someone must know her fears, she was glad it was Preston. “It will pass when we are at Brookhaven. It is just too much the same as when we went to bed last night. I’ll be fine.”
Sad eyes stared back at her as he ran his finger down the side of her face. “Of course you will.”
Chapter 14
When Millie padded down the hall just before dawn with Beauty slinking behind her, Preston’s heart actually ached. Sitting across from her in the carriage while she pored over the pages of that damned Everton Companion was driving him mad with want. His only comfort was Beauty with her head resting on his leg, looking at him as if she understood. Perhaps he’d lost his mind as well as his heart.
Mrs. Whimple cleared her throat. “I hardly slept a wink last night. I know it’s silly, but I was sure the inn would go up in flames at any moment.”
Millicent’s back stiffened, but she didn’t look up from the book.
Wanting to ease both ladies’ minds, he said, “I don’t think it silly at all. We have all survived a traumatic experience. It will take time to recover.”
That gave Mrs. Whimple a smile. “Did you struggle to rest as well, Your Grace?”
He petted Beauty’s head. “I was up most of the night, madam. I imagine sleep will be hard to come by for a few nights, at least.”
Nodding, she clutched her knitting. “I just cannot believe how your William knew just how to keep us safe. How did he know?”
“William Mallory was a batman in the army before he came to work for me.”
Millicent looked up from her reading, eyes filled with curiosity.
“Was he?” Mrs. Whimple leaned forward. “How did he come to work for you then, Your Grace?”
Closing the Everton Companion, Millicent pursed her lips. “You cannot expect the duke to know details of all of his servants, Doris.”
“Actually, Miss Edgebrook, I know quite a lot about everyone who works for me. At least, as much as they are willing to share. William was assigned to a captain during the war. He served in many battles across much of the Continent until his captain was killed. He had distinguished himself so honorably that when he asked to be released, he was granted permission. I had a letter from an old friend who is quite high in the ranks about William. When I heard of his deeds, I wrote to offer him a position. I had hoped as my driver, he would be safe. Unfortunately, this journey has proved that one can never be assured of safety.”
Millicent blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “I suppose that is true. It was kind of you to give him a job.”
“And we were all fortunate he was there when the storage building exploded. I know I surely would have perished without him.” Mrs. Whimple did nothing to hide her admiration, and Preston was jealous of her openness.
“I shall be eternally grateful that he kept you and the others safe, madam.” Preston waited until Mrs. Whimple’s attention returned to her knitting before he shifted his gaze to Millicent.
Several curls had escaped the neat bun she favored, and she tucked the strays behind her ear. “I owe you an apology, Your Grace. I suppose I’m used to noblemen who cannot be bothered knowing about the lives of servants. I should have known you would be different.” Her cheeks pinked in the most intriguing way.
He wondered if the blush felt as warm as it looked. He longed to lean forward and find out. Every word filled him with a new kind of joy. Little by little, he would win her over. He just had to do it before she left his life forever. “Your apology is unnecessary but accepted. I am well aware that my contemporaries are known to be neglectful in their duties to the people who care for them and their properties. My father always respected the people under his care. In fact, he was kind to everyone. I hope to be half the man he was.”
“I’m sure your father would be proud of you.” As soon as she said it, she opened her book again and buried her head in the pages.
He had tried to live his life the way his father would have wanted. No one had been a better man than Dorian Knowles. He might not have done things the way society expected, but he always did the right thing. Try as he might, Preston had never quite managed his father’s success. He fell short with Lady Elinor and chose wrong with Lady Scarlett, but he was certain Father would adore Millicent.
Derbyshire’s rolling hill country was by far the loveliest place in the world, but still Millicent kept her nose in that damned Companion. Preston had had enough. “Why don’t you share what it is you’re reading, Everton Lady?”
Wide-eyed, she looked up. “It is only rules, as you know, having read the beginning.”
It grated at him that she spoke to him only as required all day. They had shared an evening that would remain with him his life long, but she shied from him and endured his company. “Read the rule you’re studying so intently.”
Her expression remained impassive as she stared back at him, but passion stirred in her eyes. Any emotion was better than this cool facade she pretended at. She handed him the book. “You may read it, if you wish.”
Taking it as she held it open to the page, he looked down. “Number twenty-one. An Everton Lady will discourage any client from romantic thoughts or actions.” His pulse sped up, and he had to swallow down the desire to toss the Everton Companion, Rules of Conduct out the window. “The close quarters and help provided by an Everton Lady can sometimes stir feelings in a client. These feelings are generally erroneous and will pass quickly. It is vital that the Everton Lady discourage signs of affection that can compromise the task at hand. Always remember, your first obligation is to the successful achievement of the goal. Even if the client loses sight of that goal, as an Everton Lady, you must stay focused and follow through until the task is complete. Once you have done that, you will move on and the client will forget his momentary illusions of affection.”
He read it again to himself.
Of course, Mrs. Whimple had put her knitting aside to listen.
Preston closed the book. “Do you suppose this kind of thing happens often, Miss Edgebrook?”
Crossing her arms over her chest might have been meant to protect herself, but it pushed those beautiful breasts up in the most delightful way. “I suppose it must happen enough for there to be a rule about it.”
“So, what do you suppose happens?”
“Your Grace?” She swallowed and stole a glance at Mrs. Whimple.
He was starting to hate the silly book she was determined to live by. “These men who hire the Everton Domestic Society for one reason or another. I would think some of them are married or otherwise unavailable, yet a woman comes into service and she is smart and determined to help him or his family. Suddenly, he loses all sense and becomes emotionally attached to her to the point where she must divert his attention back to the problem at hand.”
“I’m sure I cannot say exactly how such a thing might occur.” She avoided his gaze.
He turned to Mrs. Whimple. “What do you think, madam? Does this seem like it would happen frequently enough to warrant a rule?”
“It seems to me, men of status rarely look at the servants for love. They may look for less noble desires, but rarely for love. I think that is the point of the rule, Your Grace.” She folded her hands and nodded as if approving her own statement.
Preston looked out the window as they turned down the lane to Brookhaven Manor. “I suppose a woman in service must be on guard for the kind of man who cares only for
his own desires.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Whimple said.
“Ladies, if you would care to look, we are arriving at Brookhaven. The house will be visible on your left in just a moment.” Normally, he loved to watch his ancestral home come into view, but today as they rounded the corner, he watched to see how Millicent would react to the red brick, separated by gray columns and tall windows.
Her eyes lit up with delight, and he knew she was seeing the way the grand house was reflected in the lake.
“Do you like it?” He hadn’t meant to, but he leaned forward, and his hands were just an inch from hers before he pulled back, remembering they were not alone.
“I imagine anyone would be impressed by such a stunning house.”
“Oh, it’s lovely, Your Grace.” Mrs. Whimple clapped.
He liked such open admiration for the place he loved most in the world. “I hope you will enjoy the gardens and interior as much.”
“I look forward to a tour. I think a nice walk through the gardens might be just the thing after being closed up in the carriage all day.” Millicent stared at the house as they passed through the large oaks. The leaves were falling, but enough foliage remained to obscure the view until they reached the curve that would take them up to the house.
The staff lined up on the tall steps as they arrived. Strand, the butler since Preston was a boy, opened the carriage door. “Welcome home, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Strand. This is Miss Edgebrook and Mrs. Whimple. We have had a trying journey. There was a fire at the inn in Barley. All of our things will require cleaning, and we are worse for wear.”
Gray-haired, but expressionless, the tall stately butler gave a nod. “It is a relief you were uninjured. Ladies, if the staff can be of any service, you need only ask. I will inform the housekeeper that your things need laundering.”
After a brief introduction to Mrs. Waxby, the housekeeper, they went inside. Preston watched Millicent’s reaction to the tall ceilings and elaborate chandeliers. On the stairs, her face lit up when they passed a portrait of him as a boy with his parents. “How old are you here?”
“Twelve, I think.”
“Your father was very handsome.” Father smiled down in his easy way, and she grinned up at him.
“Mother says she was always having to beat away his admirers. She was joking, since he was devoted to her, but the ladies did try.” He wished Father was alive, so he could ask advice about the stubborn woman climbing the stairs. “Shall we meet in an hour to tour the grounds?”
Mrs. Whimple said, “I fear I must take care of our belongings and rest.”
“You may trust my staff to take care of whatever needs cleaning.” Brookhaven ran with utter efficiency, and nothing would be brought upstairs until it was cleaned of any smoke damage.
“I’ll feel better if I check and then rest before dinner.” Doris’s skin was pale, her shoulders slumped, and she looked near ready to drop.
“Get some rest then, madam. And you, Miss Edgebrook? Do you need to rest?”
She surveyed the dark wooden banister, frescoed ceiling and artwork-adorned walls. “I would like to see Brookhaven before the rest of the guests arrive.”
* * * *
Walking Millicent through the parlors and ballroom was like seeing his home again for the first time. Her reaction to all the fine details gave him more pleasure than the history behind each piece. “Perhaps we should throw a small ball during the house party.”
She stared up at the gilded ceiling with its arches and night sky painted with exact detail. “Maybe something more intimate. A night of cards and perhaps a night where the ladies might show off their musical talent. If the weather holds, we can have a day out of doors with games or a walk through the countryside.”
“You are thinking of ways for me to spend private time with each of them. I see.” He saw no point in letting her goals annoy him. She was trying to do what she had been hired for. If he was going to win her, it would have to be on her terms.
“Of course, that is the whole point of throwing a house party.” She ran her hand along the wall where the hidden door was left slightly ajar. “I noticed Occultis Aperta carved above the front door as you once told me.”
“Yes.” He pulled the door open. “Hidden in plain sight. My ancestors have enjoyed such foolishness.”
Peeking down the hallway, she asked, “Where does it lead?”
“You will have to take a chance to find out.” It was a challenge, a test of trust.
After a moment’s hesitation, she stepped inside.
Why that tiny leap of faith gave him so much pleasure, he couldn’t say, but his heart somersaulted, and he followed her inside. Once he closed the door, it was dark, and she gasped. He’d traversed the secret passages at Brookhaven since he was a child. Reaching out, he took her hand. “Don’t be frightened. I’ll show you the way.”
Her gloveless hand in his sent a shock of warmth through him. Following closely, her arm touched his to the elbow. “I don’t think Mrs. Whimple would approve of this.”
“No. I imagine not, but I approve wholeheartedly, and you will be pleased with where we land.”
“Are we going downhill?” Her voice was breathy.
It was like no one else existed in the world as they made their way through the dark. “Very observant. There is a slight decline.” He stopped at the door he knew was there though he couldn’t see. Reaching out, he pulled up the latch and pushed open the secret door, letting sunlight shine in.
Stepping out into the walled garden, he waited for her eyes to adjust and watched her awed expression as she surveyed the little wilderness. The red brick was partially covered with ivy. The plant beds were mostly empty this late in the year, but the pear tree was almost ready for picking. In the corner, a thatched roof covered the potting shed, which gave the garden a quaintness that was something out of a fairytale.
“It’s a kitchen garden. Oh, Preston, it’s so lovely.” She whirled, and even in the ill-fitting dress he’d bought her, she was lovely.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Why on earth would the passage from the ballroom lead here?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea. That passage has been there since Brookhaven was built nearly two centuries ago. I’m afraid you’ll have to ask the fourth Duke of Middleton why he put it there. Perhaps this garden had another purpose at the time.” He tucked a bit of thatching back into the potting shed and made a mental note to have it repaired before it got too cold.
Her grin was infectious. “Maybe he had need of an escape or he used it to lure ladies from the ball.”
“Maybe he was just mad.”
Laughing, she rushed around the herb beds. “I don’t imagine that secret passage is the only way in.” She searched for other doors and found the servants’ entrance at the far end of the garden.
“In the spring and summer, it’s full of delicious vegetables and herbs. Most are played out this time of year, but the courgette are still coming up, as are the rocket and a few others.” He touched the low bush of rosemary and watched Millicent skip around the garden delighted.
She ran her hand along the ivy until she found the hidden doorway out. Turning, she met his gaze and grinned. “Where does it lead?”
Charmed by her enthusiasm, he joined her at the door. “The upper garden. Go ahead, push through.”
Outside the wall, the upper garden spread out before them. One of the things he’d always loved about Brookhaven was the way the gardens were formed by the contours of the district. Trees lined to the south, shading a formal garden with a large fountain at the center and pathways leading in a geometric pattern.
“This is so lovely. I imagine it is a paradise in the spring.” She ran to the fountain. If she were a proper lady, she would have hidden her delight and strolled with disinterest.
Thanking God she was not like the others, he rushed after her. “I’m delighted that you like it.”
“I would be hard-pressed to find fault with all of this.”
A gardener pushing a wheelbarrow walked in and stopped at a rose bush that was looking sad. “Hello, Your Grace. Welcome home.”
Preston shook his hand. “Bart, good to see you. This is Miss Edgebrook. I’m giving her a tour of the gardens.”
He bowed his head. “Nice to meet you, miss.”
“How do you do.” She smiled at Bart the same as a member of the gentry and not a gardener.
Bart blushed and hid a grin. “Be sure and show the lady the view at the top of the steps before the sun goes down. It should be a fine prospect with this weather.”
“I will. Thank you, Bart.” Offering Millicent his arm, they walked north toward the stairs.
“Since when do dukes shake hands with servants?” she asked.
Taking her hand, he wrapped it tighter around his arm to keep her closer. “Bart has been here since we were both children. We played together when his father was the head gardener, and he and Jacques were my closest friends before I went off to school. My title does not change our history. If I could convince him to call me Preston, I would. He insists on the formality.”
“You are the most unusual duke.”
“I shall take that as a compliment. Close your eyes.”
She stared up at him. “Why?”
“Trust me.” He held his breath.
Hand in his, she closed her eyes.
Each tiny leap of faith brought him more happiness than he deserved. He wished the rest of the party were not on their way, and he could just have Millicent to himself for the duration. Of course, that was not to be. Leading her to the top step, he held her tighter and turned for the best view. “Open your eyes, Millicent.”
When she did, she gasped. “Oh, Preston, this is magnificent.”
Thirty stone steps led to a lower garden filled with greenery, a small fish pond, a brick shelter, but the real treat from their vantage point was the rolling hills of his property that could be viewed for miles. “Do you like it?”
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