An Innocent Maid For The Duke

‘Did you learn that at school?’ The orphanage had taught her to read uplifting sermons and her bible, and how to do sums, but most of her education had been about making herself useful to people with money. Plying a needle, making tallow candles and soap. Sometimes one of the guardians had loaned her other things to read, Gothic tales and such, but the matron had stopped it, said it had given her ideas above her station. Improving texts were best for the likes of her.

But those glimpses into other realms had made her realise that if she wanted to get on in the world she needed to improve herself. She’d emulated the speech of the grand ladies who sometimes came to do charity work among the orphans and read everything she could get her hands on whenever she had a spare moment.

‘Actually,’ the Duke was saying, ‘my family estate has acres of trees of all different sorts. We learned about trees almost the way we learned to walk.’

‘We?’

His expression darkened. ‘My brother and I.’

‘You have a brother.’

‘Had. He died.’

While he had done his best to sound nonchalant, she heard pain in his voice and when she risked a glance at his face, saw it in his eyes. ‘I am sorry.’

He grimaced. ‘I also have a sister.’

‘She lives with you?’

‘She is a...widow. She and her daughter reside mostly in the country.’

‘Your parents?’ she said tentatively, then winced. He wouldn’t be a duke, would he, if his father was alive? There seemed to be a great deal of death in his family. One always imagined the nobs to be immune from such disasters. ‘I’m sorry, I do not mean to pry.’

He stopped and gazed down at her with a question on his face.

Blast. Of course, anyone moving in his circles would know these things. Breath held, throat dry, heart thudding in her chest, she waited for his denunciation.

Instead, he once more held out his arm and they continued walking. ‘My mother died when my sister was born. My father, little more than six months ago.’

While he sounded calm enough, tension radiated through him as if the words were hard to say. She had the urge to wrap an arm about his waist and give him a hug. Goodness, he’d probably take a fit if she did any such thing. Still, she patted his arm in silent sympathy and his amazingly blue eyes when he glanced down held a smile. ‘My grandmother lives with me. A feisty old lady she is, too. Always trying to boss me about.’

She chuckled, because she sensed that was what he wanted—no, needed—and also because the idea of anyone bossing such a fiercely commanding man about was laughable. ‘And what is it that she wants you to do?’

His face became inscrutable. ‘Marry. Produce the heir.’

‘And you do not want to?’

‘I’ll do my duty.’

He stopped at a flowering shrub. ‘This is gentian.’

A deliberate change of subject. She might not be educated, but she wasn’t stupid. ‘How pretty.’

‘And this is a rose bush.’

‘Hah. Very funny.’ The blossoms were perfect and a lovely pale yellow.

He dropped her hand and removed his fob from his pocket. He detached a small knife and cut off the stem of a blossom a day or so past the bud stage, but not yet in full bloom. With his little knife he cut off the thorns and handed it to her with a bow. ‘While not as fair as you, I hope you will accept it as a token of my esteem.’

She giggled.

He cocked a brow. ‘You find me amusing, Madame?’

Oh, dear, had she insulted him again? ‘I find such flowery nonsense amusing. It does not sound like you at all.’

Again the strange questioning look. ‘So it is honesty your prefer.’

She knew she was plain, but did she want him to say it? Better he said what he thought instead of puffing her up only to let her fall. After all, by the light of the candle, in that gown and the mask, he would not have been able to make out her features. Perhaps that accounted for his reserve. He was disappointed.

‘I do prefer it.’

The smile he gave her was so sweet, so endearing, it almost took her breath away.

‘Then honesty compels me to say I have never in my life met a woman like you.’

Ouch. Clearly her attempt to be ladylike was failing badly. To hide her embarrassment, she brought the rose to her face and inhaled deeply. The delicate scent brought a smile to her lips. ‘And I have never smelled a rose so sweet.’

He opened his mouth to say something, then gave a swift shake of his head as if he thought better of it.

‘Tell me about you,’ he said, beginning to walk again.

She tucked her hand under his arm. ‘There is not much to tell.’ Not much of interest to him in any case.

‘You have siblings?’

Siblings. Another unfamiliar word. But they had been talking of families. He must be asking about members of hers. She made a stab at the meaning.

‘I have no brothers or sisters.’ That she knew of. ‘My parents are also dead.’ Dead to her, for they’d never come to claim their bastard daughter. ‘I live with distant relatives.’ Liar. But what else could she say? That she lived in London’s rookeries? That would certainly spoil his image of her as a lady. Anyway, what difference did another white lie make, when nothing about her was real.

They had come to a wall. The end of the garden, she assumed. She turned back and was surprised to see only the chimneys of the house were visible, through the trees. ‘I suppose we must go back.’

‘I wanted to show you something.’

The girls had been very free with their advice as they helped her dress. Flo’s last warning rang in her ears. ‘If he says he wants to show you something, watch out. He might want to show you more than you want to see.’

‘Such as what?’ she had asked.

The girls had collapsed in laughter. But when they realised she was serious, they had looked worried. ‘How did such an innocent come to work in a place like this?’ one of them grumbled.

‘He might want to show off his manly bits,’ one of the others said. She pointed below her waist.

‘Not if he’s a gentleman,’ Flo said severely. ‘Not the first time. Still, be careful.’

Rose blushed at the memory.

‘I really should go back.’

‘Rose,’ he said, shaking his head at her. ‘It is nothing to fear.’