An Innocent Maid For The Duke

‘Explain what?’ She winced. She hadn’t intended to speak out loud. A glance upwards at his implacable expression sent a shiver down her spine. It was far worse than a show of anger. He looked merely curious. Almost cold.

‘Explain why you never told me that you work here.’ He looked down his ducal nose. ‘You do work here? Have been working here for some time?’

And was unlikely to be working here much longer. She nodded miserably. ‘As a scullery maid.’

He folded his arms across his chest. ‘So what were you doing in the Green Room the other evening?’

She shrugged. ‘I had been mending the gown. I tried it on to see...’ Dash it, if she was going to be let go, it might as well be for the true reason. ‘I wanted to see what I would look like in such a lovely gown.’

His frown deepened.

She held her breath, waiting for the full force of his wrath.

‘You made me think you were gently bred. A lady.’ Not angry, disappointed.

What right did he have to be disappointed? ‘If you’d thought me a lady, you would not have met me in private or kissed me without permission.’ She winced at her scolding tone. What was the point of feeling embarrassed? She was what she was and she cared nothing for his opinion, good or bad.

Only she did. Heat rushed to her face and she let her gaze fall away. ‘I apologise, Your Grace. I—I did not set out to trick you. It simply happened. I should never have met you in the garden, however. For that I am sorry.’

His feet did move away then. A few steps and then silence. She looked up, expecting him to be gone, not to find him perched on the second step of the stairs up to the great subscription room.

He gestured for her to come closer and she found it odd when she approached that she was in fact looking down on him by an inch or two.

It made him seem less imposing, less of a threat and more like the man she had met in the garden. As if they were somehow equals. They were not. A fact she would do well to remember.

‘This time you will tell me the truth, if you please.’

She clenched her hands at her waist. ‘What is it you want to know?’

He narrowed his eyes at her obvious defensiveness.

What did it matter? She was going to lose her job anyway. She shrugged.

‘Very well. What is your real name?’

‘Rose Nightingale.’

He made a face of disbelief.

‘Is too,’ she said.

‘Very well, Miss Nightingale. How long have you worked at Vitium et Virtus?’

‘Four months or so.’

‘Do you live in or out?’

She hissed in a breath. Why did he want to know that? Only a few of the employees here lived in. He must know that, being an owner and all.

‘Out.’

The answer was received with a heavy silence.

‘I will collect my things and leave.’ What else could she say? Clearly she had lost any regard he might have held for the woman he thought she was. An ache scoured the inside of her chest. She was wrong to have let herself be swept up in what was really was no more than a foolish dream.

‘You want to leave?’ he asked.

She frowned at him. A horrid suspicion entered her mind. Did he want to continue where they had left off only...? Now he knew who she was...what she was, would he treat her differently? With less respect?

‘I think it is for the best.’

He regarded her for a long moment. ‘You are going home?’

‘Yes.’

‘To your family.’

Truth. She had to tell him the truth. She had said she would. And then he really would despise her utterly. ‘I have no family left that I know of.’ She lifted her chin.

‘Oh, Rose,’ he said, shaking his head, sorrowfully.

‘I have done nothing to be ashamed of.’ Her face flushed again. ‘Nothing that has brought harm to anyone else.’ Even if she was a bastard. Born on the wrong side of the blanket, the nobs called it. She called it irresponsible.

To her surprise, he looked startled, as if her declaration surprised him. What? Did he think because she had no family, she was some sort of undesirable? Or worse yet, a woman of low moral character? She closed her eyes briefly. That was it, most likely. And now, like a lackwit, she had as good as told him there was no one in the world who cared what happened to her. ‘Besides, it is none of your business where I go from here.’ She turned away.

‘Rose, wait.’

She swung back to face him.

He rose to his feet. ‘You don’t need to go.’

‘Are you saying I haven’t lost my position?’

He approached her warily, as if she might bite him if he got too close. ‘No, I mean. Well, obviously I would find it difficult when...’

She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘When?’

He rubbed a palm over his jaw in an odd upward motion. ‘I mean, I do not like to think of you...well, scrubbing the floors.’ He gestured at the rag and bucket in the middle of the floor.

She frowned. ‘There is nothing wrong with scrubbing floors.’

‘You could be so much more.’

Anger bubbled up at the disdain in his tone. More? Such as being his mistress, perhaps? What else could he mean? ‘I am perfectly content, thank you. I certainly don’t need to make my living...’ She stopped before she said something really rude.

‘I intended no insult, Rose.’

He was the one who sounded insulted. He had gone all ducal, looking down that lordly nose of his.