Page 22 of An Innocent Maid for the Duke
A long way from her street.
In one of the worst neighbourhoods in London.
Damn it all. Why had she run, when he’d likely made the best offer of a job she had ever received in her life or was ever likely to receive?
I cannot.
A strange feeling entered his chest, sharp, ugly. Did she have a husband? A child? Such impediments would account for her reaction.
Face it, man.She didn’t want the job. There were lots of women who would be thrilled to get such an offer. Find someone else and leave Rose to it.
Yet what had he said to make her upset enough to dash off down a street nowhere near where she lived? At the very least he ought to ensure she had arrived home safely and that she understood her current position at Vitium et Virtus was secure.
Did he really want to know what was stopping her from taking what had been an outstandingly generous offer?
He sighed. He really had no choice if he wanted to sleep tonight, though why that was the case when he barely knew the girl, he could not fathom.
Chapter Four
Rose perched on the edge of the small truckle bed tucked beneath the eaves in her rented chamber.
Pressure built behind her cheekbones. A lump formed in her throat while the backs of her eyes scalded. She clenched her hands together trying to breathe. She would not cry.
A sob escaped.
She swallowed it down and glanced around the shabby room. At the brave flutter of floral fabric covering the window. At the scrap of carpet beside the bed she’d bargained for at the market. At the worn-out broom she’d salvaged from the rubbish bin at the V&V. She could not help comparing what she had to what the Duke of Westmoor had offered.
She didn’t know if she was upset because he had made such a dreadful offer, or because she had turned him down.
A bitter smile pulled at her lips. Likely a bit of both.
He was such a handsome, charming man. Sometimes. When he wasn’t making tempting offers that undermined her efforts to maintain the standards she’d set for herself so many years ago.
She dashed a tear from her cheek that seemed to have escaped without her knowledge.
What was she to do? Her stomach pitched. This time he would see her dismissed. She was sure of it. She shouldn’t have run. She should have thanked him before refusing.
The thought hit her like a blow.
She should have explained why she did not want to be his mistress. He wasn’t a bad man. He was simply man who expected to get his way in all things. She had met enough of those in her time and he was, after all, a duke. But she did not think him deliberately cruel. If she had explained, he might have understood.
Or not. But at least she would have had her say instead of running away like a coward.
Truth be told, if she had stayed, she might well have said yes. The thought of his kisses and the tender way he’d held her in his arms when they danced had tempted her sorely.
That same temptation had led her into the mistake of meeting him in the garden, of seeing him one last time to tell him they should not meet again. Clearly he now thought her a low sort of creature, given the way she earned a living.
The rosy dreams she’d been clutching to her heart since the hours spent in the garden turned to ashes before her closed eyes.
Not that she’d expected to see him again. She really hadn’t. She’d simply enjoyed the dream. It made the day pass faster and the drudgery of her life seem less hard.
This offer made a mockery of those innocent imaginings. Didn’t she know better than to have dreams? Had she not learned to live day to day? To survive by hard work and keeping herself to herself? She’d let herself be lured into the pitfall of wanting more and look what he’d offered. Hope. It was such a stupid thing.
A cacophony, louder than usual, drifted up from the street below. An argument. Someone run afoul of her landlord, no doubt. Someone unable to pay their rent.
She shivered. She’d seen more than one family evicted from this house for that crime.
Heavy footsteps thumped their way up the stairs. She expected them to stop on the floor below. More than one set, she thought. No one ever came all the way up to her little garret. And yet something about the determination in those steps brought her to her feet.
