by Gina Lamm
But she kept her head up and kept moving. She hadn’t gotten this far in life by giving up. Well, not that she’d gotten too far, honestly. But she was a self-sufficient adult, and that counted for something, right?
“The scullery maid should be doing this washing.” Avery’s voice came from behind her. A scraping of wood against the stone floor accompanied his voice. “Why were you pressed into this duty?”
Redoubling her scrubbing efforts, Leah looked down into the pot instead of back at Avery. She couldn’t tell him it was because she’d been late for supper. His I-told-you-so had to be more irritating than the usual. “Mrs. Harper said that the scullery maids were on vacation, or holiday, whatever.”
“Are you still expected to do the duties of underhousemaid in the morning?”
She nodded and frowned down at a stubborn bit of burnt-on food. No matter how she scrubbed, it clung to the bottom of the pot like Scrooge with his last nickel. “Stubborn piece of shit,” she muttered.
“I beg your pardon?” Avery’s voice was just behind her head.
Startled, she dropped the brush into the washbasin. The resulting splash soaked the chest of her apron and dress. She staggered backward, straight into the surprised valet.
He sprang away as if burned, and she stumbled to catch herself before she fell on her ass. Crap, she spent a lot of time not being graceful in front of him.
Good thing he wasn’t her destined true love. He’d have run away screaming by now if he was.
“Damn it,” she cursed, wiping at her front. “I’m sorry. I’m not normally such a klutz.” She looked up at him, confusion and helplessness leaking out of her ears. “It’s just late, and it’s been a really long day, and I…”
“Hush,” he interrupted her. The corner of his mouth twitched, almost like he wanted to smile, but he didn’t. Good thing, too. She’d have had to belt the shit out of him or burst into tears. “Sit just there, by the fire. It will dry your clothing. Finish that bread and cheese if you’ve a mind to.”
He unbuttoned his cuffs and began methodically rolling the fabric up his muscled forearms. Leah swallowed hard at the purely innocent sight. Damn, the man had some nice arms, even though they bore some purpling bruises. Corded with muscle, they flexed with the simplest movements. Did valets do that much heavy lifting?
“You’re not going to wash the dishes for me. It’s not your job,” she protested, but he shook his head.
“It is of no consequence. We’ll have them done in a trice, and you can find your bed afterward.”
“Oh gosh,” Leah said, dropping her forehead to the table in front of her with a moan. “I forgot I’ve got to be up at the ass crack of dawn in the morning.”
Avery barked a laugh, nearly scaring the shit out of her.
“What did you say?”
“The ass crack of dawn,” Leah said, laughing at Avery’s shocked expression. “It’s my somewhat colorful description for getting up too damn early.”
He cleared his throat, smothered his smile with a more neutral expression, and continued scrubbing the next-to-last pot. “As amusing as your description is, I’d suggest you not use it around the other servants. They should probably not enjoy it as much as I.”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” Leah said, smiling down at the cheese sandwich she was making. A sideways glimpse at the valet revealed that he was hard at work removing grime from what looked like a witch’s cauldron. And it wasn’t even his job; he just wanted to help her.
“Thank you for helping me.” Her words came out without thought, but she was glad they had.
He didn’t turn, but she thought his shoulders relaxed slightly. She popped a crust of bread into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully before speaking again. “So how did you end up here? Always wanted to be a valet?”
He paused in his scrubbing to laugh. “Not as such, no.” The sound of bristles on metal resumed. “I had some little experience in grand houses before this one. My former employment rendered me unfit for service to most. But His Grace took a liking to me, so here I am.”
Leah sat back against the wooden slats. “So what did you do before that made you ‘unfit’ to most?” She made air quotes, even though his back was turned.
“I worked with my hands.”
The answer was cryptic, but his tone was even more so. Leah pursed her lips. “Like, making things?”
His laugh this time was bitter. “No, not at all.” He didn’t give her a chance to ask a follow-up. “It is of no consequence. What is your occupation in the land behind the wardrobe?”
Leah smiled. “That makes it sound like I lived in Narnia, which would have been awesome. But no. I’m an elementary school drama teacher.” She pinched off another bite of bread. “I’ve got a great group of kids, and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. I mean, who else gets to play pretend for their nine-to-five?”
Water splashed as Avery emptied the pot. His muscles strained against the damp cotton of his sleeves as he lifted the large iron thing. “I am sure that the children enjoy their lessons with such a lovely teacher.”
Leah’s heart thudded at the compliment, but Avery didn’t turn. He merely wiped the pot down with a rag and continued washing up. She took a bite of the food he’d given her, just because she didn’t know what else to say. It would have been so much easier if Avery could be the duke. But even though he’d been sweet and had just called her lovely, he wasn’t exactly coming on to her. She’d spent a lot of time in the friend zone, and this was shaping up to be that kind of friendship, sadly.
She swallowed methodically, flicking a little crumb from the corner of the table. As handsome as Avery was, she was here to romance the duke himself. That had to be it. She’d win his heart and waltz back through the mirror with her perfect man in tow. She hoped.
Eight
When Leah and Avery parted ways at the top of the stairs, it was one o’clock. After that single compliment, he’d kept the conversation light, never venturing into the territory again. It had been a little disappointing, but even so, she’d really enjoyed talking with the strong, quiet man. She watched as he disappeared down the corridor, moving slowly. Must be his bruises hurting him. She shook her head. Shouldn’t have let him finish the pots.
Leah’s jaw cracked loudly as she yawned, and she covered her mouth with the hand that wasn’t holding her candle. Four hours of sleep? It wasn’t going to be fun, but she’d make it, she reasoned. It would be worth it in the end.
She found her door without much trouble and pushed it open with a creak. Soft snores echoed through the room from the occupants who were already in bed. Leah shook her head as she set the candle down on a small table. She really wasn’t looking forward to sleeping with strangers, but what choice did she have? Hell, she thought as she peeled her damp dress off, she’d much rather go bunk with Avery than with the obnoxious little Henrietta. Locking her in the conservatory? Come on. She’d have to do a lot better than that to get rid of Leah.
She spread her dress out on a ladder-backed chair near the fireplace, hoping it would dry by morning. Shucking her petticoat, she balanced on one foot as she removed her stocking. Another yawn knocked her off balance, and she grabbed the chair to right herself. The legs of the seat thumped against the rough wooden floor.
Leah froze as the snoring stopped. God, she didn’t want to wake them up. It was going to be tough enough to sleep next to the prickly Henrietta without having to deal with her anger about being rudely awakened. She could just imagine the retaliation for that. And the other two, Sarah and…well, someone—she couldn’t remember the other girl’s name—had seemed nice enough, but she could just imagine the hell it would be living with three girls who couldn’t stand her.
The even breathing resumed, and Leah sighed with relief. She made quick work of the rest of her undressing, and tiptoed to the bedside wearing only her shift and bloomers. Propping her hands on her hips, she stared down at the bed.
Grand. Just fucking grand.
Henrietta lay diagonally across the double bed, wrapped in the covers like a burrito. The only way Leah could fit in the bed at all would be to curl into the fetal position. Leah’s eyes narrowed, and her hands fisted by her sides.
That was just about enough for today.
More gently than she wanted, Leah pushed Henrietta’s legs over to the far side of the bed. The girl squeaked in alarm as Leah pulled the covers, lifting them up to straighten them with an irritated snap.
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, you stupid git?”
“Quiet,” Leah whispered. She slipped beneath the covers beside Henrietta. “Don’t wake the others. I had to make room. You were hogging the bed.”
And for that, Leah got a sharp kick to the shin. Gritting her teeth, she rolled to her side and bunched the pillow beneath her head. As much as she wanted to return the favor, she wouldn’t kick a kid. No matter how much this particular kid deserved it.
“Good night, Henrietta.”
“Go boil your ’ead.”
Leah closed her eyes.
To her surprise and delight, the face she saw in the darkness of her mind was aristocratic, thin, and handsome. Black hair shot through with distinguishing strands of silver framed it. A hand with long, slender fingers reached out to her, and she took it gratefully.
“Oh, my darling,” the duke, looking at least twenty years younger, whispered as he swept her into a waltz. “I have searched the world over for you.”
She reached up and touched his face. It was smoother than she’d expected, without the faint feel of beard stubble or any wrinkles at all. He was hard, not with muscle, but with skin stretched directly over bone. His hand was cool in hers, and the other bled a chill into the small of her back. She shivered.
“You are cold,” he said in his too-soft voice. “Let me warm you.”
She didn’t resist as he drew her close in his arms. Her heart thumped faster in excited delight. Her destined true love was holding her in his arms. Could anything be more perfect? She rested her cheek against his chest with a contented sigh.
It was cold.
She was pressed full against his body, but instead of the comforting warmth she’d expected, he was icy from head to toe. Pulling away from him, she looked up into his face.
And screamed.
“You simpleton, wake up.”
Leah sat bolt upright with a gasp, her eyes flying open. Sarah and the other girl were dressing across the room, the light from their candles dancing crazily as they chatted and giggled. Henrietta stood beside the bed, glaring down at Leah. In her hands was the blanket. No wonder Leah had dreamed about being cold.
“You will be late if you do not hurry. I shouldn’t care if you were, but Mrs. Harper bade me wake you.”
“Oh my gosh,” Leah moaned, gripping her head. It ached with a thumping pain. What a freaking weird dream. But she didn’t have time to analyze it. She swung her feet off the side of the bed and winced at the chilly touch of the wooden floor. Without a word to Leah, the other three girls left the room. If she hadn’t been so absorbed in her own headache, it might have bothered her. As it was, she could barely stagger over to the drawer in the bureau that had been designated as hers.
The predawn sky was lightening slightly, but even with a candle it was tough to dig her way through the drawer. Finally her fingers closed around a small leather pouch she’d secreted in her skirt before making her journey through the mirror. She opened the zipper with relief and spread the contraband on the windowsill.
A toothbrush and tube of toothpaste. Tampons. A bottle of Advil and a box of throat lozenges for the cold that had been threatening her since last week. A bar of her favorite vanilla and coconut soap, and a stick of deodorant. A picture of Pawpaw, smiling as he worked on an ancient tractor. She popped open the bottle of Advil and swallowed two dry. Looking down at the picture, she said, “Morning, Pawpaw.” She traced the photo with a fingernail. She’d ridden on that tractor many times as a child, her grandfather holding her securely in his lap. Things were so much simpler then.
Shaking off her reverie, she brushed her teeth with water from the pitcher and made quick work of washing off as best she could with a rag and her soap. She donned her uniform, wincing at the still-damp fabric. It couldn’t be helped though. By the time her hair was all tucked beneath her cap, her stockings were on, and her boots were laced, the black of night had faded to the hazy gray of early dawn on the horizon.
She gathered up her treasure trove and replaced the pouch in the drawer beneath her dress. Her headache was starting to fade around the edges a little, and gratitude flooded her as she descended the stairs to the servants’ hall. If nothing else, Jamie’s journey had prepared her to rough it here in the past. It wasn’t going to be easy, but she was sure she was up to the challenge.
Well, she thought she was, until she discovered just how much a pain in the ass being an underhousemaid could be.
“Good morning.” Leah smiled at Mrs. Harper as she descended the stairs.
The white-haired housekeeper scowled at her. “You are very nearly late again, Ramsey. Granville House servants are expected to be prompt at all times.”
Fighting the urge to protest, Leah scrambled to her seat at the dining table. Nobody else seemed to be there for breakfast yet, but clearly Mrs. Harper had risen from the wrong side of the coffin. No use fighting that kind of bad attitude. Clearly this woman needed to roll a solid plus five to positivity.
“What are you doing?” Mrs. Harper’s nostrils flared.
Leah put on her best contrite look. “Aren’t we having breakfast?”
The housekeeper looked at her as if she’d shat in His Grace’s boots. “You must work to earn your breakfast, girl. Now follow me.”
Blowing out an exasperated breath, Leah rose and trudged after the housekeeper. Was she ever going to stop screwing up? It hadn’t seemed like being a servant should be this hard. Hopefully she’d just polish a few pieces of silver and then have a good breakfast to make up for her lack of sleep. Longing for the coziness of her memory-foam mattress, she followed Mrs. Harper down the dim hallway.
“Attend me, Ramsey.” Mrs. Harper’s heels clicked on the polished wood floors, and Leah hustled to keep up with her. “These tasks are to be done every morning upon rising. The house must be cleaned and aired, all superfluous articles put into their proper places, the fireplaces and hearths brushed up. The hearths all washed with soap and water, then carefully wiped dry with linen cloth and new fires laid.” Leah hurried into a sitting room behind Mrs. Harper, who didn’t slow down at all. The woman opened the curtains and kept moving as she spoke. “Sweep all the carpets, then turn up the corners to sweep away the dust upon the floor. Dust the window sashes, and once or twice a week shake out the window curtains and hangings. Are you attending me?”
All Leah could do was nod her head numbly. Her brain throbbed, her headache having returned with a vengeance. The enormity of her new job pressing in on her, she followed Mrs. Harper through room after room as the housekeeper pointed out different tasks for her to complete. Why hadn’t she smuggled a vacuum and some Magic Erasers through the mirror with her? This was going to take forever.
“Attend to His Grace’s dressing room, and the dressing rooms of any guests we have in residence. Empty the slops, replenish the ewers with fresh water, clean the fireplaces, brush the carpets, sweep the room, and make ready for the valet to attend His Grace’s dressing. Once these tasks have been completed, you may then, and only then, come down to your breakfast.”
Leah stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, her jaw working soundlessly. Mrs. Harper had just listed about two weeks’ worth of housework, and she was supposed to get all this done before breakfast?
“I’m sorry,” Leah said, surging forward to intercept the housekeeper before she could launch into another list of duties. “I don’t think I heard correctly. I thought you said all this had to be done before breakfast.”
Mrs.
Harper’s mouth pursed. “That is what I said, yes. It is the duty of a maid in your position to assist in all these tasks. You are capable, I trust?”
“Of course,” Leah said hopefully. Assist was a good word. There were other maids, so maybe that giant list the old bat had just rattled off was to be divided among them all. If not, Leah probably wouldn’t be eating breakfast for a few days. Weeks, maybe.
“Now then,” Mrs. Harper sniffed, “go along to your duties. Henrietta and Sara are attending to the breakfast room, so you may proceed to His Grace’s dressing chambers. Once you have put them to rights, come down and attend to the library. I shall direct your movements thereafter.”
After shoving a coal scuttle and cleaning rags into Leah’s hands, Mrs. Harper shooed her toward the duke’s dressing rooms.
Timing her footsteps with the throbbing in her head, Leah mounted the stairs, trying like hell to figure out where this adventure had gone so horribly wrong. She had a terrifying idea that empty the slops meant take care of the chamber pot.
She hadn’t planned on cleaning the man’s toilet before she’d even had the chance to say hello.
* * *
Avery rolled to his side on the thin mattress, his breath hitching as his injured ribs caught with the movement. Dropping his feet to the chilly floor, he rose, gritting his teeth against the heavy pain of his bruises. A deep breath blew the worst of the pain away, and he was able to bend and light the candle at his bedside.
Dashing chilly water against his face, he made quick work of his morning ablutions, careful of his healing skin. Much as he hated to admit it, his wounds were not as bothersome as they could have been, thanks to Miss Ramsey’s attentions. The rough cotton towel scraped against his throat.