Page 17 of My Dark Duke

Working against Miss Smith’s arbitrary deadline - which Sebastian looked forward to punishing her for later, in the bedroom - he had selected a modest town house just off Berkeley Square, and an old friend’s acquaintance and his wife, to act as caretakers for both Mary and the house.

A knock came upon the drawing room door and Sebastian paused, his senses heightened. Was it Miss Smith, at last?

“Come in,” he bid, but to his disappointment, it was not Mary who appeared, but Polly Browne.

A former actress, Polly commanded attention, even dressed as she now was in the plain clothes of a servant.

“Miss Smith is just finishing her toilette, Your Grace,” Polly stated, her expression neutral. “I did not anticipate it would take this long, but one forgets how luxurious a warm bath can be, when denied one for some length.”

“Yes, of course,” Sebastian nodded, as though he had any understanding of what being denied luxury felt like. “She may take all the time she needs. I did not get a chance to mention, Polly, that Miss Smith will require a new wardrobe. A trip to Bond Street tomorrow, shall do it. Day dresses, evening gowns - whatever she requires. Have the bill sent to my man of business.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Polly replied, her plump mouth struggling to suppress a smile. “As you’re feeling so generous, might I request a girl for the kitchen and a lad to assist Michael with the heavier tasks?”

Michael, Polly’s husband, had been honourably discharged from the army a year ago. The injuries he had sustained fighting Napoleon’s forces, had rendered him incapable of heavier manual labour. Sebastian had received correspondence from an old friend, but a few weeks past, asking him to keep Michael and his wife in mind had he any need for discreet servants. The country that Michael had fought for had very little care for its crippled soldiers once they returned to English soil.

“You have my permission to hire whomsoever you might like, Polly,” Sebastian replied, with a lazy wave of his hand. “If anything is required for the house, just have the bill-”

“Sent to your man of business,” Polly finished for him, her eyes dancing.

Polly was no green girl and knew exactly what position Miss Smith was about to enter into.

“I must go and see if Miss Smith requires any assistance dressing, Your Grace,” Polly continued. “Is there anything else you need?”

“I sent out to Gunter’s for dinner - when the dishes arrive, just set them out on the table with the wine. That will be all, Polly. Thank you.”

Polly’s eyes disappeared into her hairline, so surprised was she to learn that a toplofty duke was happy to serve himself.

“I can cook, Your Grace,” she offered, as she left. “No need to send out to Gunter’s each evening for your supper.”

Sebastian, who had sampled some of Polly’s “cooking” earlier, when he had called into the rooms she and Michael kept in Covent Garden to offer them the position, hid a smile.

“Hire a cook while you’re at it,” Michael decided. Seeing the look of suspicion on Polly’s face, he hastily added, “You will be kept busy attending to Miss Smith; it is not fair to expect you to cook as well.”

Somewhat satisfied with that explanation, Polly took her leave, leaving Sebastian to continue his quest to wear out the Axminster carpet with his pacing.

With each minute that passed, his anticipation rose tenfold. It had been a long time since he had desired a woman and he intended on savouring every moment with Miss Smith - when she eventually deigned to sit with him, that is.

Finally - a brandy, two cheroots, and a half hour later - Polly knocked on the door again.

“Miss Smith will be down in a moment,” she stated. “The dining room is set up. If you have a need for anything else, I shall be in the kitchen.”

“Very good,” Sebastian answered, surprised he could speak, for his mouth had gone suddenly dry.

He drank what remained of his tumbler of brandy and made for the hallway, just in time to witness Miss Smith descend the stairs.

She was dressed simply, in a dress of pale blue muslin. Her auburn tresses were gathered into a neat chignon, which emphasised her heart-shaped face and high cheekbones.

She looked, Sebastian thought ruefully, every inch the innocent. Had he the heart to corrupt her? If not, did he have the willpower to overcome his own urges?

“Miss Smith,” he gave a short bow as she reached the bottom step, “How glad I am to see you here.”

“I was not expecting such…”

Mary waved a hand around the hallway, which was lit by dozens of candles in brass sconces and papered with silk-damask paper hangings. Above their heads, a chandelier twinkled, adding to the opulence.

“If the house is not to your liking, you may choose another,” Sebastian offered, innocently.

“The house is perfect,” she answered, finally turning her green eyes his way. “I was not expecting it to be so luxurious, that is all.”

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