Page 33 of An Innocent Maid for the Duke
Oliver cut him off. ‘I really must go, old chap. By the way, my visit to the Club Plaisirs Nocturnesin Paris provided some novel ideas.’
‘Thinking of bringing them to Vitium et Virtus?’
‘I am. We are losing custom.’
‘Boredom setting in. I’m bored with it myself. Not to mention up to my ears in work for the Duchy. Perhaps we should divest ourselves of it.
Oliver grimaced. ‘I’d hate for Nicholas to come back expecting it to be here and...’
It always came back to the same thing. Their hope, forlorn though it was, that Nicholas would return. ‘You are right. We should probably wait.’
A bit of a pall descended on them as Nicholas’s ghost intruded. They’d kept it going in his memory after all.
Jake saw Oliver out and climbed the stairs to the drawing room. Only when he reached the top step did he realise he had left his port untouched in his eagerness to join the ladies. Or one particularly lady.
Damn it.
* * *
Rose lay in bed, looking up at the canopy. Blue silk, no less. How on earth had this happened? When would she wake up and discover it was all a dream?
Nightmare more like. Women like her did not end up under the roof of a gentleman for no good reason. Though his stated reason was for the sake of his grandmother, how could she believe him?
A strange uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach made her roll over on to her side.
Moonlight poked fingers of light through the gaps in the curtain, casting strange shadows in unexpected places and forming bars of brightness across the counterpane.
Sleep seemed further away than ever. She should have brought the book of sermons she’d been reading to Her Grace. She’d been desperately trying not to yawn then, and Her Grace had actually dropped off for a minute or two. Bless the poor old dear, she’d had a very busy day.
Perhaps she should go and fetch the book from the drawing room. Another dose of that would surely have her eyes closing in no time.
Better yet would be a book she would actually enjoy reading. The house boasted a library. Her Grace had pointed it out, but they had never gone in there. Since Her Grace had a store of books in her chambers, there was no need to seek out more. Yet all of them were exceedingly dull.
Feeling too warm for comfort, Rose clambered out of bed and poured a glass of water from the jug on the nightstand. As she sipped she walked to the window and looked out.
The last time she had looked out she had seen the Duke heading out, probably to the V&V in pursuit of more manly entertainments than listening to her read to a sleepy grandmother.
She hated the idea of him going to the club.
There were girls there who would—she pushed the thought aside as an image of Flo came into her mind. She had sent Flo a note saying she’d found employment elsewhere, but little more by way of an explanation, which made her feel guilty and sad. Flo would miss her, she was sure, when no one else gave a fig for what became of her.
Somehow she would find a way to meet her friend and tell her the full story. One day.
She headed back for the bed, then changed her mind. There was no point in tossing and turning for hours. She’d get a book or two from the library and read until she fell asleep.
Another wonderful indulgence of this new life of hers. Books. Hundreds of them.
She pulled on her dressing gown, lit her bedside candle from the one in the sconces outside her door and headed downstairs.
The library was in the other wing. Passing through the dimly lit grand entrance hall, she was surprised at the lack of a footman on duty at the front door since His Grace had gone out.
Perhaps he had his own key.
The corridor to the rooms on the west wing’s ground floor ended at the library, if she recalled correctly. She pushed open one of the great double doors and was delighted to see shelf upon shelf of books lining the walls in highly polished glass-fronted shelves. She lifted her candle to better see the titles.
At a sound her heart gave a hard thump. Her breath caught in her throat. She whirled around.
‘Your Grace,’ she gasped.
