Page 80 of An Innocent Maid for the Duke
The old lady’s lower lip trembled. ‘It is Jacob. For three days now he has been shut up in the library with his papers and his man of affairs. He doesn’t even come to dinner any more and I thought things were improving.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘Did something happen, Rose? You seemed to be getting along so well and now you rarely look at each other, let alone speak? I had hoped...’
Rose’s fingers clenched on the pen. A large drop of ink dribbled off the nib on to the paper. ‘Bother.’ She snatched up the sheet of blotting paper. Too late. The blot had already spread across the words she had written. ‘I am sorry, Your Grace. I am afraid I shall have to start again.’ She set the sheet aside to be cut smaller and used for notes and lists and drew another sheet from the pigeonhole in front of her. She readied her pen.
‘You did not answer my question,’ Her Grace said gently. While her eyes might be old and short-sighted, they were not in the least bit vague. She wanted a reply.
What could she say? That she had tossed him out of her bed? Hardly. Indeed, she had missed him so badly she was scarcely able to force food past her lips. Had Her Grace noticed that too?
‘We had an argument.’ It was the truth.
Her Grace tipped her head on one side. ‘Put him in his place, did you? Hmm. Well, it might serve, I suppose.’
‘I do not understand.’
The old lady’s lips pursed, the wrinkles around her mouth deepening. ‘I have my hopes pinned on you, Rose. Now, where were we? Ah yes. My Dearest Wellington—have you got that?’
Her hopes? What did she mean? ‘Yes, Your Grace.’
‘Very well, then. Let us continue.’
* * *
And continue she did for another hour. Rose’s hand was cramped by the time she had returned the writing implements to their proper places and closed up the writing table. ‘Will there be anything else, Your Grace?’
‘Yes, Rose. I have come to a decision.’ Her voice was strangely tight as if she was holding back some sort of emotion. ‘I am going with Eleanor to Hertfordshire. I wish to spend more time with Lucy.’ She picked up her fan and waved it briskly. ‘Not to mention, it is far too hot at this time of year to remain in town.’
‘We are going to Hertfordshire?’
The old lady shook her head, her gaze piercing. ‘I am sorry, Rose. I will not need a companion in the country.’
Her heart shrank. The pain of it made her gasp. ‘You are letting me go?’
The old lady looked determined. ‘I feel it might be the best thing I can do at this point. I will let Jacob know. In the meantime, will you ask Eleanor to come and see me?’
Blinded by the hot rush of tears and unable to speak another word, Rose made her curtsy and escaped. On her way to her room, she sent the message to Eleanor by way of a footman. She knew she would never keep her composure if she had gone herself.
Did Jake know she’d been dismissed? He must do. He was the Duke. Pain carved an empty space in her chest. Loss. This was what he must have felt when his father and brother had died. How could she not have realised the extent of his pain?
She should not have interfered. She’d only made things worse when all she wanted was his happiness.
Emptiness filled her. She would always miss him.
She drew a deep breath. There was nothing she could do to change what had always been inevitable. As heartbroken as she felt, she had to think of her future, not wallow in misery.
And she could do anything she wished. Jake had shown her a different world and she had proved to herself she could be more than a scullery maid. She just wished there had been something more she could have done for him, to make him happy.
She was packing and mulling over what her next step should be when a knock came at the chamber door.
To her surprise a footman stood outside. He handed her a package. ‘From His Grace.’ He bowed and marched away.
Slowly she closed the door and then unrolled the fancy scroll tied with a red ribbon. It took her a while to understand what its contents meant. She sat in stunned silence. He’d bought a dressmaker’s establishment and put it in her name.
Why on earth would he do such a terrible thing?
* * *
Footsore and weary, Rose arrived in the alley behind the V&V. She’d slipped out the moment she’d heard Jake leave the house at eleven. Night was a dangerous time for a well-dressed woman to be wandering the streets near St James’s. But she knew her way around here far better than she had ever known her way around the fancy houses in Mayfair.
And at least she’d had the presence of mind to pick up an umbrella on her way out. It would serve to remind any man who thought to accost her of his manners. Fortunately, she knew where she was going and as always her determined stride and confident manner stood her in good stead. What a fool she had been to think Jake might actually care for her.
