Page 12 of A Duke to Steal Her
Emily weighed her options. “The blue, I think. Such an expansive estate must have many entrances. For deliveries and such?”
Martha helped her out of her nightgown with practiced efficiency. “The tradesmen’s entrance is at the rear of the house,Signorina.” She efficiently slid the chemise over Emily’s head, followed by stays that she began to lace with practiced fingers.
“And I imagine there are gates beyond the gardens?” Emily said, inhaling as the stays tightened. “Not too tight, Martha. I prefer comfort to fashion.”
“As you wish,Signorina.” Martha reached for the petticoat, her expression turning a shade more guarded. “The breakfast hour is from eight until ten. His Grace often rides in the mornings.”
Emily stepped into the petticoat, noting the slight nugget of information. “Is that so? Does he ride alone, or with grooms?”
Martha’s hands worked deftly at Emily’s back, fastening the gown. “I couldn’t say,Signorina. I attend to the ladies’ quarters only.”
“Of course. Silly of me to ask.” Emily turned as Martha finished the last button. “Are there many visitors to Nightfell? I should like to know what society I might expect.”
Martha’s expression remained carefully blank. “His Grace would be the one to ask about such matters,Signorina. How would you like me to arrange your hair today?”
Emily recognized the wariness on the maid’s face and decided to drop her plan for now. “A simple chignon will do. I’d like to walk in the gardens after breakfast, if the weather permits.”
In her chambers, as Martha helped her out of her day dress, the maid cleared her throat. “His Grace has requested you wear the crimson silk gown this evening, Signorina.”
Emily stiffened mid-stretch. “Has he indeed?”
Earlier that afternoon, frustrated by her fruitless attempts to find an escape route, Emily had retreated to the library in search of calm.
The Nightfell library was magnificent—two soaring stories of books on every subject imaginable—but even among its quiet shelves, she had paced like a restless tigress.
No matter how luxurious the surroundings were, it was still a cage.
Tomorrow, she vowed, she would find a way out of Nightfell.
But tonight, she had to play the part of the Duke’s ‘guest.’
“Yes,Signorina. He thought it would complement your complexion most advantageously,” Martha replied.
Emily’s heart raced from indignation. “Does he?”
“Yes,signorina.The crimson is quite lovely,” Martha ventured, moving toward the wardrobe.
Emily crossed her arms, her chin tilted upward. “I’ve changed my mind. Please inform His Grace that I won’t join him for dinner. I will take my meal in my rooms this evening.”
Martha’s face paled. “Signorina, I don’t believe?—”
“Please, Martha. I find myself fatigued after my explorations today.”
“ButSignorina, His Grace specifically requested your company and I’ve never seen anyone?—”
“I understand, Martha, and thank you for letting me know,” Emily cut her off, her tone as soft and gentle as she could muster. “However, I truly could not provide enjoyable company to His Grace when I am this tired. Please convey my regrets.”
Martha hesitated, then curtseyed. “As you wish,Signorina.”
Emily slumped on the bed.
Mere moments later, a gentle knock sounded at the door.
The knock preceded the butler, Simmons, and two footmen bearing trays laden with covered dishes, crystal, and silver.
“His Grace ordered dinner served here,Signorina,” Came Simmons’ indifferent announcement as he directed the footmen to arrange the meal at the small table by the fireplace.
Before Emily could protest, the Duke of Nightfell himself appeared in the doorway. He was resplendent in formal evening attire, his green eyes gleaming with barely suppressed amusement.
