Lady Be Good: Lord Love a Lady Series, Book 5

by Annabelle Anders

  “And I’m positively thrilled that you are! You always misconstrue my words.” His sister scowled.

  “What are you thrilled about, sweetheart?” Hawthorne lowered himself beside her. Another love match. This house party was littered with them.

  “Seeing my big brother, of course.”

  Hawthorne slid a glance in Rome’s direction with raised brows. “Seeing you here is something of a surprise.”

  Rome could hardly remember the last time he’d spent a holiday with his family. He’d barely made it to London to attend his brother Joseph’s, and then Natalie’s, weddings.

  He lifted his glass to take another swallow and grimaced at the realization that he’d already emptied it.

  “And Margaret’s going to join us at Raven’s Park as well, if I can talk her into it.” The poor woman didn’t stand a chance against Natalie’s exuberance.

  Lady Asherton smiled.

  Penelope, looking none too pleased, had crossed the room to join them as well. “Darlington.” She nodded in his direction.

  “Lady Danbury.”

  “Walk with me.” She smiled innocently.

  Rome could not refuse such a request made by a lady.

  “But of course.” He’d refill his snifter, too. Rising, he winged an arm and headed them in the direction of one of Cortland’s liquor cabinets. This would not be a casual conversation. They never were when it came to this particular woman.

  “I trust you’re feeling better this evening?” Ah, yes. He should have known she’d not allow his indiscretions of the night before to pass without mention.

  “Much.”

  “And Rose. Have you apologized to her?”

  “Miss Waring? Your maid?” He sat his glass down and removed the stopper from a nearly full glass decanter. “Have I apologized to your maid?” He slid her a glance. “Of course.”

  But Penelope drew her brows together. “You are different this year. Have you finally grown tired of doing all your father’s work? Can he not hire a steward to handle issues up north?”

  There would always be stewards and others who were willing to take on his responsibilities. Rome lifted the glass to his lips and consumed nearly half of what he’d just poured. “Where’d you find her? Miss Waring, that is?”

  His old friend eyed him skeptically. “If anyone else asked me such a question, I’d be worried. But I know you.” And then she sighed. “I found Rose when we were both all of eight years old. Her father’s land bordered ours.”

  “Her father’s land?”

  Penelope nodded. “He gambled everything away before she had the chance to make her come out. So I—”

  “Hired her as your maid! Of course, that makes perfect sense.” Hadn’t he made a joke about her background? She’d not acknowledged his crass remark.

  “I didn’t want her sent away.”

  “Did she want to be your maid?” What an odd situation. Rome couldn’t imagine hiring anyone he’d once been equals with to wait on him hand and foot. Far too complicated.

  Penelope winced. “She was my best friend. And the aunt her father was going to send her to is a beast. I couldn’t allow that. She’d have been all the way up in Scotland. It was practically a death sentence.”

  Rome wasn’t sure what to think about that.

  Penelope turned, rested her elbows on the wooden surface of the sideboard, and leaned back, scanning the room’s inhabitants. “What do you think of my sister-in-law?”

  “Lady Asherton?”

  “Yes. Margaret. Lovely, don’t you think? She’d make a fine match for you.”

  Rome filled his glass again. “I don’t know, Pen.” It seemed he’d had this conversation a thousand times. Not about this particular lady, of course, but about some suitable one or another, as suggested by his mother, his aunt, or, worst of all, his father.

  “You need to marry, you know.” The words annoyed him as much as listening to an out-of-tune string quartet. But that he could tune out the notion.

  He’d tried to marry. Last year, he’d tried. And look how that turned out.

  “Lady Eliza was a fool.” Penelope announced. The damned woman seemed to read his mind. He never should have discussed his broken betrothal with her last spring. “To think she’d marry a mere mister, with you on the line. A blacksmith’s son, no less! You poor dear!”

  “It’s for the best.” Even to him, the arrangement hadn’t felt quite right. His parents’ marriage was a love match, Natalie’s was, and even his youngest brother, Joseph, the only brother yet to have married, seemed to love his wife.

  Stupid of him to imagine he deserved the same. Perhaps he ought to find himself a mistress. He’d discarded the notion in the past as decadent and somewhat immoral but perhaps that was exactly what he needed…

  The image of Miss Waring came to mind.

  “Hugh and I weren’t in love when we married,” Penelope pointed out. “Sometimes it takes proximity for two people to appreciate one another.”

  “Is that what you call it?” He grimaced. “And sometimes, that same proximity leads to a distinctly opposite sentiment.” At least he could dismiss a mistress when appreciation turned to annoyance.

  “Think about it, Rome. Would do you a world of good.” She scowled at his drink disapprovingly. “Be more careful tonight.” She pushed herself away from the cabinet. “But you really ought to consider Margaret. She’s a lovely lady. Perfect for you.”

  Then she disappeared, leaving a disturbingly familiar scent in the air.

  She seemed to be wearing Miss Waring’s perfume.

  Rose normally didn’t venture downstairs to the kitchen, but she’d been upstairs in Penelope’s chamber for most of the day and she had need of a change in scenery. Besides, she needed something to eat that did not consist mostly of sugar.

  Since Penelope had stayed with the Duchess of Cortland numerous times before marrying Danbury, Rose ought to be better acquainted with the servants at Summers Park. She ought to have been able to make a few friends.

  But she had not. They’d not welcomed her as they might other visiting servants. They were warily polite, helpful, even respectful. But they kept their distance. Her mistress treated her differently than other employers treated their servants, and for that, Rose would never be one of them.

  After collecting a plate with some bread and cheese from the pantry and then an apple from a bowl on the long worktable, she turned to ascend the servants’ stairs when a well-dressed, tall, and somber-looking gentleman stepped into her path.

  “Rosie?” He spoke in a rather posh-sounding accent for a servant. At least she thought he was a servant, despite his starched cravat and pressed clothing. Above stairs, obviously. “Might I have a word with you?”

  “And you are…?”

  “Mr. Pierce. Valet to Viscount Darlington.” That explained his appearance and manner. He looked none too happy, however, as he glared down at her.

  Whatever he had to say, she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like it.

  Other servants entered and exited the kitchen with no warning. If he was going to make any mention of his employer’s whereabouts the night before… “Not here.” She attempted to move past him, but he reached out and gripped her arm, causing her to nearly spill the food from the plate she was holding.

  “Let go of me!” Anger surged at his audacity.

  “If you’re looking to offer your favors to the viscount, you’re wasting your time.” The man could almost be considered handsome but for the cold look behind his eyes.

  The maid who’d delivered Penelope’s afternoon tea apparently had not kept Lord Darlington’s presence in Penelope’s chamber to herself for long. It was the only explanation.

  Unless others had witnessed him leaving.

  Good lord, he’d visited her chamber twice!

  “If I were to offer the viscount anything, it would be none of your business.” Rose lifted her chin. She hated bullies. Especially when they tried to bully her.

&nbs
p; “Everything his lordship does is my business, you presumptuous wench.” He squeezed her arm even more tightly.

  The valet’s arrogance knew no bounds. “His Lordship, I believe, does as he pleases, unless he answers to servants these days.”

  “He has more important business than to dally with the help. Do you hear me, girl?”

  “You’re hurting me.”

  “You’ll stop throwing yourself at him. Is that understood?”

  “Let go of me, sir, this instant or I’ll scream so loud you’ll wish—”

  He dropped her arm.

  Stinging from the man’s vitriol, she met his eyes boldly. “If you bother me again, Lord Darlington will hear of it from my employers.” And yet, guilt gnawed at her.

  She had allowed the viscount into her bedchamber! And then she’d sat with him, shared a perfectly lovely afternoon tea, an odd connection even…. She had flirted with him! It had been stupid of her to speak so daringly. She knew better than to tempt a man.

  Far too many of them could not control their animal urges, once provoked.

  “If you bother the viscount again, you’ll find yourself unemployed.” An edge of steel laced his voice. “Don’t test me.” And with that, he spun on his heel, coat tails flouncing, and disappeared into the servant dining quarters.

  Rose swallowed hard. Men! They said what they wanted, took what they wanted. Even those amongst them who were servants.

  Rose clenched her teeth. Perhaps the viscount himself relayed Rose’s bold behavior to the valet. Perhaps he’d laughed about it with the other man. She hadn’t meant anything by flirting with him. When the words slipped past her lips, she’d considered them to be harmless.

  They had been, hadn’t they?

  Regretting venturing downstairs, she clutched the rations she’d gathered and tore her way back to her chamber. She could hardly wait for this Christmas party to be over. Of course, then she’d have to return to Land’s End. It wasn’t as though she’d made many friends there, either. It wasn’t as though she had anyone there to celebrate the holidays with.

  It used to be just her and Penelope. Now Penelope had Hugh and the babies.

  Christmas held less meaning than it ever had before.

  They could decorate the windows, burn the Yule Log, hang mistletoe and holly all they liked, but nothing would change the fact that Rose was no longer her own person. She’d lost control of her destiny.

  Nothing festive about that.

  Had she controlled her destiny before working as a maid? She’d thought so. As a young girl, she’d imagined she would have choices. Not many of them, but choices, nonetheless.

  Closing the chamber door behind her, she put down her dish of food, dove onto the settee, and covered her face. She didn’t cry. She never cried. For the hundredth time, she pushed lumps of discontent deep down where she wouldn’t feel them, buried them, and pretended they didn’t exist.

  She couldn’t blame such feelings of discontent upon her monthlies, she’d had those last week. No, this was simply the circumstances of her life.

  Lovely.

  Chapter 5

  Third Time’s a Charm

  “You needn’t allow me inside. But I have a question to ask you.”

  For the third time in less than twenty-four hours, Rose opened the door to her chamber to find Viscount Darlington standing outside. Tonight, he wore an elegant black jacket, scarlet waistcoat, pristine white starched cravat and breeches that hugged his—

  “I apologize, once again.” His elegant voice drew her attention back to his face.

  Why had he come? He’d apologized already. “There is no need.”

  He glanced over her shoulder, into the empty chamber. “Where did you get the notion that I would not be interested in females?” The question took her by surprise. “It makes no sense, and I’d like to nip it in the bud.”

  She’d obviously been wrong. She was quite certain of this now. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  He only raised his brows.

  This was no conversation to be held in a public corridor. Without saying a word, she pulled open the door and waited for him to enter.

  His presence, just as it had during his previous two visits, filled the room. When he turned to face her, it was obvious by his expression that he did not consider it to be nothing.

  “You must have some idea.”

  Rose hugged her arms in front of her and managed to shrug. “A servant. Perhaps last spring.” At this information, he winced.

  “There was… speculation. Since you hadn’t married, and after Lady Eliza broke off your betrothal… But I don’t remember anything specific. I simply assumed it was why you were not like other lords. No one considers you a rogue. You’re not known to frequent brothels and you don’t harass the help, like so many other lords do.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “And obviously, since I do not harass the help…” He bit the words out in frustration.

  “You’d be surprised,” Rose inserted, drawing a speculative glance from him.

  “How many lords have harassed you? Other than myself, that is?” He’d seemed to dismiss the rumor for the moment.

  “A few. Enough.”

  He scowled at this.

  “Not my employer, of course, nor His Grace. They’ve always been perfect gentlemen.” Rose studied the carpet. “Most are.”

  “How many?” Tonight, intensity rolled off of him in waves. How had she ever considered this man to be harmless? “Who, precisely?”

  In truth, it had only happened a few times. A handsy earl. A stolen kiss from a baronet. And of course, Elias… Enough to make her wary.

  But he would not know them. And he could not possibly know Elias Grayson, a baron, who lived but a few miles from Land’s End. And she hadn’t considered that his attentions might be anything other than what he’d portrayed them to be… a courtship almost.

  Until she’d learned differently. She’d been daft to imagine he could have honorable intentions for a maid!

  “It’s no matter.” Oh, why had she even mentioned such a thing to him? It had likely been as much her fault as Elias’. She had considered the baron quite handsome. She’d flirted with him.

  The muscles in Lord Darlington’s jaw pulsed as though he was clenching his teeth together.

  “I’ve always been too outspoken for my own good. Perhaps there is something about me… I am too bold.”

  He furrowed his brows, somehow compelling her to tell him even more.

  “They just try... things. Given the opportunity, they just… do. I ought not to have...” What? Smiled at them? Accepted their compliments?

  Suddenly, the ticking of the clock on the mantle sounded all too loud.

  “You believe you encourage unwanted attention?” His quietly spoken question broke into the silence.

  Rose stared down at her hands, clasped tightly together. She never would have thought to have such a conversation with anyone. Somehow, this man invited her confidences. It made no sense at all. He was a viscount. They lived in different worlds.

  Perhaps that was why she could be comfortable telling him.

  “Perhaps without meaning to,” she attempted to explain. After Elias had… Well. Somehow, she had felt guilty. She should not have allowed herself to be alone with him. She ought to have been wearing her mobcap. Had she been a tease? “

  “But if you are unwilling, they have no right.”

  Oh, but how innocent this man seemed on occasion. His very goodness kept him from understanding that not all men abided by their conscience. Or even had one, for that matter.

  Some simply took whatever they wanted.

  “Have you told the countess? Or Danbury? Is it not their duty to provide protection for ladies in their employ?”

  Rose rolled her eyes. “It is not their duty to protect me, My Lord. And I am not a lady, as you say.” She appreciated such concern but... “You’re just like Penelope, you know? It seems you have the best intentions and yet yo
u know nothing of what it’s like—” Oh, dear. She needed to learn to keep her opinions to herself. “I don’t mean any insult. Please forgive me.”

  He merely stared at her the same as he’d done earlier that day while taking tea. Was she some sort of curiosity to him? He should not have come here.

  She’d change the subject. Perhaps he’d forget what she’d said. She loved Penelope and would feel horrible if her words got back around to her.

  “Why aren’t you downstairs, with the other guests?”

  On this night, unlike the night before, he almost stood at attention, feet shoulder-width apart, hands behind his back, as he questioned her. His presence in her chamber, in no way, could be attributed to drunkenness.

  He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, pointedly studying her. “Funny thing, Miss Waring. Your words give me cause to speculate. Which men of my acquaintance are of the ilk that you refer to? I cannot help but wonder if any of them have been making trouble.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve kept to myself here. I’ve not had trouble from any of them.”

  She had learned.

  “Elsewhere then? At Danbury’s estate? In Land’s End?”

  Rose turned away to stare outside into the dark. All she could see, however, was her reflection. And his.

  She could not blame Elias. She had been too forward with him. It was her own fault for allowing him the liberties that she had.

  “I am in no danger here, My Lord.” Her only present imminent danger seemed to be herself. She’d spoken carelessly to him this afternoon.

  This seemed to quiet him somewhat. When he’d first entered, he’d carried a tension, a readiness. Although dressed to the nines, he’d appeared… dark and riled.

  His eyes flicked to her wrist. She followed his gaze and realized he was staring at the red handprint left by his own valet.

  It would bruise by tomorrow. They always did.

  She shrugged. “I slipped in the stairwell.”

  His eyes darkened again. She wasn’t sure why she lied. It was embarrassing that she’d been unable to escape the self-important servant.

  She didn’t want trouble. Penelope and Danbury were very good to her.