Page 37 of The Maid's Secret

“I’m sorry?” I said, completely at a loss.

“Really? When we were kids?”

Truly, in that moment, I had no idea what he was talking about.

“So let me get this straight,” I said, barreling on. “After taking all the books you knew I would need in advance of our classes, you decide to put the books back out of the kindness of your heart?”

“Not exactly,” he said with a galling smirk that looked out of place on such a handsome face. “I needed a bit of convincing, but I think you’ll find the volumes returned to their proper shelves—most of them, anyhow.”

“My father will be greatly relieved,” I said.

“Oh, you remember your father now?” he replied. “The other day in class, it was like you completely forgot who he was. And I think you forgot who you are, too.” He smiled then, and his face filled with mirth, his cockiness making me irate.

The dragon in my belly awoke, flailing and raging until its fire colored my cheeks. Had he really expected me to use my father’s good name to save him from the wrath of the boys in class?

“It must be tough for you,” I said, “being the only son of a servant in the entire school.”

His head bowed and his broad shoulders slumped—my arrow had hit its mark. But a moment later, he recovered, and his eyes met mine once more. “It must be tough for you, too,” he countered, “being the only girl in class and being an even worse snob than her parents.”

I was wounded and furious all at once. This is the problem in love and war, Molly. All is fair, but the end result is the same—everyonegets hurt. I bit my lip hard, not caring if I drew blood so long as my hot tears did not spill humiliation down my cheeks right in front ofhim.

John studied me closely, taking in the minutiae of my expression. I was certain he was enjoying my pain, but as it turned out, I was wrong. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know why I said that. It was a cruel thing to say.”

His voice was still prideful, but there was a catch in it now that I hadn’t heard before, a sincerity that rang true as a clarion bell.

“You know it’s us against them, right?” he continued. He took a step toward me. His eyes were warm and gentle. “All those boys in our class, they’re just jealous because they’re not very bright. That’s why they treat us like they do.”

He smiled, and I noticed his mouth for the very first time—his ruby lips generous and full. I hated him for those lips, for his mouth that could be alluring and caustic at the same time.

I knew I should follow his lead and apologize, too, for the callous remarks I’d made, and for using him as a scapegoat in class. Here was my moment to take it all back, but I couldn’t bring the words forth. Rather than apologize, I took the coward’s route and changed the subject. “There’s something I don’t follow,” I said.

“What’s that?” he asked, curious head cocked to one side.

“Today in class, the headmaster said something aboutRomeo and Julietbeing both a comedy and a tragedy. You just shelved Shakespeare’s play in tragedy, where it belongs,” I said, pointing to where he’d placed the volume on a high shelf, “which means I don’t quite understand what the headmaster was getting at.”

“Love,” John replied simply, the word tripping off his tongue with such unabashed ease. In my family, the word was never said, but in his, it was everything. “Two star-crossed lovers race toward their doom, and yet they have no idea,” he remarked. “It’s all fun and games for them, at least at first, thenbang—someone dies and the party’s over.”

I looked at him, seeing him for the first time—this working-class boy far beneath my station who was mature beyond his years, more nuanced and honest and forgiving than anyone I’d ever met. I didn’t know what to think, what to say.

“I realize your parents would hate this idea, but we could study together if you want,” John said, picking up a volume from the stack of leatherbacks on the trolley. “We could partner up, show those boys at school a thing or two about who takes the top of the class. Anything’s possible: a girl can earn top grade; so can a lowly worker’s son. If we team up, we won’t have to fight over books. And though I don’t like to admit it, I suppose I could learn a little something from a girl as smart as you.”

Blushing, I gobbled up the compliment, so starving was I for praise. Still, I was inexperienced in generosity—I offered none in return. “Why do you think I would help you?” I asked.

His eyes grew two sizes. “Why wouldn’t you, Flora?” he replied.

“Excuse me?” I said. “Are we that familiar now? It’s Miss Gray to you.”

I watched as a look of abject shock claimed his face. He began to pace in front of me, his head shaking back and forth. “Right,” he said, coming to a sharp stop in front of me. “Clearly, I’ve forgotten my place again. How dare I call Her Ladyship by her given name. Listen, if that’s how you want it to be, fine. But you’re acting like a spoiled brat. For a while there, I thought there was more to you, but I see I got that wrong.”

“You did,” I said, crossing my arms against my chest. “You got that, and much else, entirely wrong.”

He stomped toward the door, about to leave, but before he did, he turned back. “Assuming I have to talk to you again—and I assure you, I’ll go to great lengths to avoid it—I’ll do as you wish and call you Miss Gray. But I expect the same from you.”

“Meaning?” I asked.

“Don’t call me John. Call me by my father’s family name, a name I am proud to bear and one I respect with every fiber of my being. From now on, to you, I’m Mr.Preston.”

And so it was, Molly, that the man who you know by the very same name became on that day my heart’s desire and my sworn enemy.

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