The Housemaid's Scandalous Secret

by Helen Dickson

  She nodded. Remembering that time, she thanked God that was over and she was here. ‘Yes, it was. Ever since, I’ve felt like a pawn on a chessboard, with no choice but to move forward, one step at a time.’

  When she resumed her work he began to speak of his life in India, recalling his travels and battles and life with his regiment. Soothed by the deep warmth of his voice, Lisette was fascinated by his recollections, and glad of them too, for it brought India closer.

  ‘My parents are dead too,’ he said. ‘My mother died when Araminta was born and my father was killed in France. He was the Duke of Rothermere’s younger brother. My aunt and uncle took pity on us and installed us at Castonbury. We’ve lived there nearly all our lives.’

  ‘Does the duke have a large family?’

  ‘Six offspring. There is Jamie—the eldest, but he’s currently listed as missing presumed dead. It’s been very hard for the whole family. Then there is Kate. I haven’t seen her in five years but I believe she devotes her life to worthy causes. You are sure to come into contact with her at Castonbury. She has her own ideas on equality between the sexes and is of the opinion that women should try and rise above their servitude.’

  ‘It’s easy for someone with means to be so forceful and outspoken in their opinions, but if she were to suddenly find herself without means, then she would come down to earth with a bump.’

  He gave her a wry smile. ‘Maybe so, but being the kind of person she is, she’d have a damned good try anyway.’

  ‘I understand what you mean,’ Lisette said, lowering her head over her work. ‘But one could also look upon so privileged a life as a great comfort.’

  ‘I do not take my position for granted, I assure you. I fully understand and appreciate how fortune of birth has given me all the opportunities and physical comforts of life—and I think I can speak for my cousin Kate too.’

  ‘It is far more than that,’ Lisette replied, sudden passion in her voice. ‘You have a place in the world. You know what it is and where you belong. That is a very comforting thing.’

  Her sudden intensity startled Ross. She was clearly a person of deep feeling, and there was a great deal of passion there. It all lay beneath the surface.

  ‘You can have no comprehension how it feels not to belong anywhere,’ she went on with an odd little catch in her voice. ‘To have no roots that tie you to a place and give you purpose. I envy you that.’

  ‘You no longer have a home of your own so it is understandable that you feel rootless. But you shall find your place one day. Everyone does, eventually.’

  She smiled. ‘I do hope so, Colonel. Now, you were telling me about your cousins at Castonbury Park. Who else is there?’

  ‘Giles, Harry and Phaedra. She is horse mad. She would have come to London with Araminta for the Season, but she was still in mourning for her brother Edward. He was killed in the battle at Waterloo.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. And you? Do you have many siblings?’

  ‘There is just Araminta and me.’

  ‘Where did you live before you went to Castonbury Park?’

  ‘Here in London. My father, of course, grew up at Castonbury Park—the ducal seat. When he married my mother, who hated the country, they decided to make their home in London.’

  ‘Did you like living in London all of the time?’

  Looking through the window at the busy square, Ross shook his head. ‘Not really. I like the country better. Fortunately my father had settled a sizable sum on both Araminta and me. My inheritance was quite substantial.’

  ‘You didn’t think to buy a house of your own?’

  ‘Not then. I had my mind set on a military career and I always knew Araminta would be taken care of and marry eventually. Perhaps one day, when I am no longer a soldier, I will give the matter some thought.’

  ‘When you take a wife, you mean—as most men do when they realise they need an heir.’

  Ross’s disinterested shrug and brief smile dismissed all the usual reasons for marriage as trivial. ‘I have no intention of adhering to custom, now or in the future, by shackling myself to a wife for the sole purpose of begetting an heir. For a man such as I,’ he said with mild amusement that failed to disguise his genuine disregard for wedded bliss, ‘there does not seem to be a single compelling reason to commit to matrimony.’

  Lisette studied him intently, her eyes alight with curiosity and caution, and the dawning of understanding. ‘In other words you are married to the army.’

  He grinned. ‘You might say that. Since going to India I’ve been expanding my own assets there.’

  Observing the glint in his eyes, she dared to enquire, ‘And what is your enterprise of choice?’

  ‘I invest in anything from tea to marble.’

  Lisette stared at him. ‘But you are a soldier.’

  One dark brow rose. ‘Among other things.’ Finding conversing with her extremely pleasant, he shifted in his chair, making himself more comfortable. ‘What would you like to do with the rest of your life, Miss Napier?’

  ‘What can a woman do with her life? Men can do whatever they want, but if women are not wives, if they are without means, then what are their hopes? Domestic service is the only thing open to them.’

  ‘You’re quite wrong there, Miss Napier. A clever woman can do almost anything she likes if she would go about it as a woman should. Women as well as men can be as free as they choose to be.’

  ‘In your world, perhaps, Colonel. Not in mine—as I have already pointed out.’

  ‘In an ideal world they could be.’

  ‘That is possible, but this is not an ideal world.’

  ‘Just now you likened yourself to a pawn on a chessboard. If you are familiar with the game you will know that eight paces brings the pawn to the other side and she becomes a queen.’

  ‘So if I just keep on going, I can be a queen,’ she said. ‘Even if there’s already a queen—or more, on the board.’

  He nodded. ‘There can be as many queens as there are pawns—as long as the pawns are ambitious enough or lucky enough to go the full distance.’

  She slanted him a curious look, understanding perfectly what he was saying—that if she was ambitious enough she could become anything she wanted to be in life. ‘Are you by any chance a radical, Colonel?’

  He grinned, his mouth wide over his excellent teeth. ‘I would not go as far as to say that.’ He became thoughtful. ‘But I do have notions which do not always agree with those of my associates—especially here in England. Perhaps I have lived too long in India.’

  ‘Or not long enough,’ Lisette said on a wistful note. She was quite fascinated by this extraordinary conversation and by the strangeness of having it and her eyes glowed with their interest in his startling opinions. ‘When I was in India I used to help my father collect his plants and sort out his specimens and send them back to the university. I hoped to carry on helping him with his work—it all seemed so probable then.’

  ‘So, Miss Napier, will you continue being a lady’s maid?’

  She laughed lightly. ‘Someone has to be. Someone has to look after the aristocrats and the gentry.’

  ‘Quite right,’ he replied with mock pomposity. ‘I never do a thing myself if I can get the servants to do it for me.’

  ‘But everyone should be capable of being self-sufficient. What would you do if you suddenly found yourself without anyone? Why,’ she said, noticing his boots, ‘look at your boots. Who cleans them?’

  ‘Blackstock—my valet. I suppose you’re going to tell me I should clean them myself.’

  ‘No. You’d probably make a mess of them.’

  He laughed at her pointed remark. ‘As a matter of fact you’re wrong. When I was a very small boy my father would make me clean my own boots religiously—riding boots, walking boots, everyday boots. I had to rub them until I could see my face in them. But you didn’t answer my question. Do you intend being a lady’s maid forever?’

  Lisette put her work down in her
lap and contemplated his question. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I haven’t had much time to think about it since coming to England. But no, I don’t think so.’

  ‘Araminta speaks highly of you, says you’re a real asset. She’d be sorry to lose you.’

  ‘She won’t. Not yet anyway.’ She sighed. ‘I would like to go back to India one day. I shall always hope something will turn up, but in my case—well, I’m not so sure. Maybe I could go as a companion to a rich old lady and travel the world.’ She laughed. ‘But listen to me. I sound like a dreamer. I’m sure it will pass.’

  Ross did not laugh. ‘What’s wrong with having dreams and longings? We’d be nowhere without them.’

  ‘But in the end I have to be realistic. I can’t see my situation changing dramatically in the foreseeable future. This is the real world. No one’s going to wave some magic wand.’

  ‘If one believes in magic, it could come true.’

  He fell silent and beneath his gaze Lisette could feel his eyes on her as she sorted out a tangle of vividly coloured ribbons, painstakingly unravelling them and rolling each bright satin strand into a neat coil. His manner was all consideration and regard as he made a study of her person with a strange sort of intensity she could not define. She looked as she always did, so she had no illusions that he had cause to deem her worth staring at.

  It was with some amusement that she raised her head and looked across at him. ‘Colonel Montague, you study me most intently—as if I were an artefact. Or maybe I have a smut on my nose? Is that it?’

  Ross leaned back in his chair. His eyelids lowered as his gaze raked over her with the leisure of a well-fed wolf. ‘Your nose is perfect,’ he replied, his voice husky. If ever he had discounted the possibilities that a woman’s features could be flawless, then he was swiftly coming to the conclusion that Lisette Napier would set the standard by which all other women would have to be judged, at least in his mind. If her face wasn’t at the very least perfect, it came as close to being so as he was able to bear. Several feathery curls had escaped their confines at her temples and in front of her ears, lending a charming softness to the hairstyle. In contrast to her dark tresses, her golden skin seemed more fetching by far than other ladies. A faint rosy hue adorned her cheeks and her soft, winsomely curved lips. As for her large, silkily lashed warm amber eyes, their appeal was so strong that he had to mentally shake himself free of their spell.

  ‘I’m trying to read your expression,’ he remarked, giving no indication of where his thoughts had wandered. ‘And as for studying you as if you were an artefact, do not be offended. Artefacts are rare and mysterious things, intriguing and often difficult to interpret. It is not unusual that incorrect conclusions are made about them.’

  Lisette’s hands tightened on the ribbons in her lap. What was he saying? she thought wildly. That he did not see her as a servant? ‘Are you saying that I am a mystery, Colonel? Because if so I assure you I have never thought of myself as either secretive or mysterious. I am no great mystery at all.’

  Ross leaned forward in his chair, and looked at her as if she were of the utmost importance. ‘I know very well what you are—but I also know you are a good person. I’ve never thought otherwise, not for one single moment.’ He paused. ‘I hope my sister is not driving you too hard. Accustomed to socialising with only the best in society, she tends to treat other humans as subjects. She is only happy if she is the centre of attention, being unreasonably demanding and imperious, and she takes violently against anyone who criticises or disagrees with her.’

  Lisette smiled. ‘You judge her too harshly. I have no complaints.’

  He grinned. ‘And you wouldn’t tell me if you had. Your loyalty does you credit. However, I am hoping your calming influence will help keep her in line.’

  ‘It’s not my place to do that.’

  ‘Nevertheless I live in hope.’

  Suddenly remembering her mistress when she heard her call from the bathing chamber, putting her work down Lisette stood up and smoothed her apron. ‘Excuse me. I must get on. I’ll tell Miss Araminta you are waiting.’

  * * *

  Lady Mannering’s two well-sprung travelling chaises travelled north to the splendid Castonbury Park that was the principal Montague residence. The first was occupied by Araminta and Lisette, the second filled to capacity with Ross’s baggage and all of the trunks of clothes and accessories Araminta had deemed absolutely essential for any extended visit.

  Lisette enjoyed the journey through the English countryside. Watching Colonel Montague riding on ahead with Will Blackstock, she longed to be able to join him on horseback. There were times when he tethered his horse to the back of the coach and joined them inside, his long legs stretched out in the luxurious conveyance. She was conscious and more than a little uncomfortable beneath his watchful gaze.

  The weather had turned pleasantly warm and he often discarded his coat. His pristine white shirt and neck cloth contrasted sharply with his black hair and dark countenance. His body, a perfect harmony of form and strength, was like a work of Grecian art and most unsettling to Lisette’s virgin heart. Each time their eyes met her heart tripped in her chest. Araminta’s artless chatter filled any silence that could have been constrained.

  It was the second day of their journey. Strolling away from the inn where, after consuming her dinner, Araminta was making use of the facilities in the ladies’ room, observing Lisette stroll towards a stream that bubbled over its rocky bed to the rear of the inn, Ross smiled slowly and with a wicked glint in his eyes sauntered after her.

  Ross was beginning to discover the whole tenor of his life was changing with Miss Lisette Napier in it. Constant awareness of her presence kept him in a perpetual state of delighted confusion. The stream ran through a sunlit glade. Having removed her shoes and stockings, Lisette was dangling her feet in the cool stream. Gazing at her, he was struck afresh by her loveliness. It was easy to forget she was his sister’s maid. What was difficult was controlling his physical reaction to her nearness. An exercise in fortitude, he thought grimly. His body was achingly aware of her, even though she occasionally favoured him with a distant glance from those cool amber eyes of hers.

  His throat went dry as he stared at the exposed skin along the back of her neck. Her hair was fashioned into intricate twists at the nape of her neck. Tiny combs somehow held it in place, and it gleamed in the sunlight like jet. He wanted to go to her and take it down, slide his fingers through the heavy mass of it.

  Becoming aware of his presence, Lisette turned and looked up at him. ‘Oh—Colonel Montague! How long have you been standing there?’

  A slow, appraising smile touched his lips. ‘Long enough.’

  ‘Long enough for what?’

  His smouldering gaze passed over her. ‘Long enough to come to the conclusion that you are worthy of a higher position than that of a servant, Miss Napier.’

  Lisette’s mouth parted slightly, and she stared up at him in surprise, unconscious of the lovely vision she presented. ‘Colonel Montague, it would be most improper for you to think of me as anything else.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I can—and I do,’ he asserted. ‘Am I intruding?’

  ‘Why, no. Did you follow me?’ Lisette enquired, unsettled yet strangely thrilled by his words.

  ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘Who am I to mind? As my employer you are at liberty to seek me out whenever you please.’

  He cocked a sleek questioning brow. ‘For whatever reason?’

  ‘No,’ she stated firmly, her beautiful eyes sparkling with mischief, ‘within reason.’

  His mouth curved in a devilish grin and the slight breeze teased a strand of his dark hair. ‘Methinks you bait me, Miss Napier. If that is your game, then lead on. I will welcome your attention and the challenge.’

  Lisette considered his words. She really did desire this man, that she could not deny, but having listened to the gossip of the other maids and being made aware of the serious repercussions should any one of t
hem overstep the mark by forming any kind of relationship with gentlemen outside their sphere, she was afraid of the repercussions should she be found out.

  ‘And where do you think it would get me if I were to give you my attention? It would create difficulties I can well do without.’

  He grinned roguishly. ‘It could be fun while it lasts.’

  ‘Fun? Your arrogance really is quite amazing, Colonel Montague.’

  In what was meant to be a display of mock disdain, her eyes skimmed his powerful frame. In the warmth of the day he’d removed his jacket. His white shirt was open at the throat. But her gaze faltered as the realisation flashed through her mind that there was nothing she could see she could poke fun at. He was hard and all lean, firm muscles.

  It was clear he did not recall their meeting in India, that he had dismissed it entirely. She couldn’t. When he looked at her as he was looking at her now, it made her recall aspects of that time in vivid detail—his warm, hard mouth and the feel of his hands and his body pressed against hers. It was wholly unnerving the way memories of lying alongside this magnificent man haunted her. Discomfited, she chastised herself for allowing her thoughts to suggest what her body wanted to experience again.

  Unable to bear the weight of his heated regard, she withdrew her feet from the water and dabbed them dry with the hem of her skirt. Much fascinated, Ross sat on the ground, his broad shoulders propped against a tree trunk, his knee drawn up, where he rested his arms to enjoy more leisurely what had become his favourite pastime since leaving London: watching Miss Napier. She surely could not guess the depth of torture she put him through, for beneath his cool facade he burned with a consuming desire for her.

  He was ever conscious of her, and whenever he saw her seated in the carriage with Araminta, she appeared trim and fragile, like a budding rose. But when he was close to her, Ross was painfully aware that though indeed she was neither very tall nor heavily rounded, she was very much a woman, and he wanted her.