Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Curiosity was every bit as dangerous as male attention was.
I jerked my head back down and continued with a fresh cloth. Wine seeped into the clean rag, rising from the Axminster. I applied some water and soap, but it was obvious I would need to return to the stain later with other means of lifting the wine. Foolishly, I chanced another glance in the mysterious stranger’s direction, but his attention had returned to the card game. Disappointment rose, swift and equally irrational. Why should a gentleman like him take notice of a lowly chambermaid?
“You’re taking far too long, girl,” my father snapped, cutting through my thoughts and making me flinch. “Leave the rest until we’ve finished our games.”
“Forgive me.” I rose, taking my soiled cloths and water with me, excusing myself from the room.
An icy frisson of dread curled down my spine as I left, knowing I would bear the brunt of his displeasure later.
As I slipped back into the servant stairs, I collided with a fellow maid. The small pail of water I’d been carrying tipped toward me, soaking my gown. I gasped at the unpleasant sensation of water dampening my shift as I realized I had run into Lydia, who, along with an older maid named Geraldine, was one of my few friends here at Cliffwood.
“Oh, Maddie,” she said on a rush, her blue eyes wide under her mobcap, “I’m so sorry!”
“You needn’t apologize,” I reassured her at once, mustering a smile for her benefit. “The fault was mine. I was rushing when I should have been taking my time.”
In truth, I’d been so flustered by the dark-eyed gentleman in the drawing room that I had been fairly racing away like a horse galloping down a track. Only, instead of winning a purse, all I managed to do was make a mess of myself. Mrs. Wells would be quite vexed if I were to return to the kitchens in such a state.
I glanced up from the rapidly spreading wetness on my gown and made another discovery. Lydia’s cheek was reddened, and now that some of my distraction had dissipated, I realized the whites of her eyes were pink, her nose a similar shade.
As if she had been weeping.
“What’s happened to you?” I asked, although I needn’t have.
I knew the answer.
“Mrs. Wells,” Lydia said.
Impotent fury rose within me.
“I’ll speak with my father,” I blurted, knowing I couldn’t and yet wanting to aid her in some way.
“No, please.” Lydia shook her head, dashing at a lone tear on her cheek with the back of her hand. “You mustn’t. I fear doing so will only make both our predicaments worse.”
“Why did she strike you this time?” I asked.
“I stole a honey cake,” my friend admitted, frowning. “So, you see? It was deserved. I knew it was a risk that she would see.”
Like me, she had been far too burdened with tasks this morning and afternoon to consume any of the scant food allotted to us. Perhaps this evening, we would have some spare bits of roast to tuck into our weary bellies if enough remained after my father’s houseguests had supped. More likely than not, we would go to bed after naught but thin porridge and bread. We’d been given such meager fare lately in order to prepare for the guests. They were not allowed to be hungry, but we did not matter.
“I was similarly tempted,” I told Lydia, new guilt seeping through me for the sin I had nearly committed.
I deserved the punishment I next received.
The sound of footfalls on the stair below had us both stiffening our spines and resuming our duties. There would be more opportunity to speak later, when the house was asleep for the night. No need to further incite the wrath of Mrs. Wells. As I hurried down the steps, clutching the soiled cloths and my now-empty water pail, however, it wasn’t the housekeeper or my father who lingered most prominently in my thoughts.
It was the stranger with the broad shoulders and the casual air of command, the only gentleman in the drawing room who had seen me.
Until he’d looked away, knowing I was beneath him.
CHAPTER 3
ALEXANDER
Afull moon was high over Barnett’s unkempt gardens, illuminating the shrubbery. I inhaled deeply and exhaled, appreciative of the fresh air after spending the day trapped in a room stinking of smoke, spilled wine, pomade, and soot. Play had finished for the evening, affording me the opportunity to escape from Barnett’s dubious hospitality.
Surrounding me was more evidence of his estate’s ruinous decline, from box hedges in wont of a sound trim and towering syringa, to clumps of Sweet William and lavender overrun with weeds. It was a tangled mass on once carefully cultivated soil.
The crunch of gravel alerted me to Edward’s presence before I turned, grateful for the companionship of my trusted steward after a day fraught with tension. For some reason, the servant girl Barnett had reprimanded rose in my mind before I banished the thought.