Page 18 of An Innocent Maid for the Duke
A very attractive, lushly curved bottom it was too. Drawn by some unnamed instinct, he paused to watch, feeling a strange sense of kinship with that sweetly rounded bum. A palm-tingling urge to stroke and squeeze. And she was humming quietly to herself. A familiar refrain that... No. It could not be.
His gut clenched. He felt ill. She was not... He refused to allow it.
Unable to stop himself, he walked stealthily around her, but she must have seen a movement from the corner of her eye, because she jerked upright, still on her knees, and looked up at him, her face pink with exertion—
‘Rose!’
She winced at his shout.
* * *
Staring at the Duke, Rose felt horror roll through her in a sickening tide. Another half-hour and she would have been hidden away in the kitchens for the rest of the day.
He was staring at her as if he expected her to say something. She dropped the rag, wiped her hands on her apron and pushed to her feet.
She bobbed a curtsy, keeping her head respectfully lowered, her gaze on the floor, wishing he’d walk away. Or that the floor would crack open and swallow her up. ‘Your Grace.’
All she could see were his feet planted squarely on the patch of marble she’d scrubbed clean. She waited for him to move on. She didn’t dare look at his face, at the disgust she’d see in his expression.
Or the anger.
‘Well?’ he said softly, menacingly. ‘Are you going to explain?’
‘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?’
