Page 150 of Harpy of the Ton
“I want itnow,” she said, hardening her voice to disguise her fear. “Shall I tell my fiancé that you’re refusing to obey my orders? He doesn’t respond well to disobedience.”
Fear flickered in the footman’s eyes, and he bowed then retreated.
She ought to have been relieved to have found a method by which to control him—fear of Dunton and what he might do to those who defied him.
But it was a fear she shared.
*
Bella approached thebath and shed her garments. As she lifted her chemise over her head, she paused, tracing her fingertips along her neckline, searching for her mother’s necklace.
But it was gone—sold to pay for Jonathan’s glasses. The one possession—among all the fine jewels and gowns at her disposal—that she had truly treasured.
She let out a sigh. She’d been glad to sell it, for she loved the little boy…
Her heart clenched, and she drew in a sharp breath to temper the swell of sorrow.
No, shedidn’tlove him—notanyof them!
Yes, you did. You still do…
Ignoring the whispered voice in her head, she dropped her chemise and stepped into the bath. Wisps of steam and the aroma of lavender filled the air and, for the first time since her memory had so rudely crashed into her consciousness, the pain in her head began to ease.
She eased herself back, letting her body relax while the warmth from the water seeped into her bones.
How she’d missed a bath! The temperature of the water was just right—warm enough to soothe her aching body, but not so hot as to sting her skin. Connie must have taken pains to test the level of heat—and to sprinkle the water with lavender petals. Just how she liked it.
Lying back in the bath with her eyes closed, the only sounds the ticking of the clock in her chamber next door and the gentle movements of her maid, Bella could almost believe she was in paradise—a brief respite from the need to submit to the whims of others for the sake of propriety, or to concern herself with chores.
It was times like this that would provide respite in the years to come. A duchess taking her bath was a creature to be left in peace—if only for a moment.
The door creaked open, and Connie’s soft footsteps approached. But the maid knew better than to fill the silence with chatter. Instead, Bella heard a rustle of fabric as Connie kneeled beside the bath, then the splash of water as she began the ritual of bathing her mistress—first dipping the soap in to form a lather, then washing Bella’s limbs with gentle, sweeping movements of her hands. Bella surrendered to her maid’s touch, letting her arms relax while Connie moved the washcloth over her arm, massaging her shoulder and elbow with her fingertips.
“Oh, how I’ve missed this,” she murmured. “Thank you, Connie.”
The hand stilled.
“Y-you’re welcome, Lady Arabella.”
Bella’s heart ached at the frank astonishment in the maid’s voice. In all the years Connie had served her, she had never once given the maid a word of thanks.
“Oh, your poor hands!” Connie said, rubbing her fingertips over Bella’s palms. “How you must have suffered! They’re covered in callouses.”
“No more than yours,” Bella replied.
“But you’re alady. A lady cannot be seen with the hands of a laborer. I’ve an ointment for softening the skin. That’ll get rid of those marks in no time. In the meantime, you can wear gloves—those lace ones I made you—then you won’t have to see them.”
Bella fought the urge to tell Connie that there were worse problems in the world than a few patches of roughened skin. Did her maid think her so frivolous that she’d faint at the sight of the evidence of hard work?
She opened her eyes and glanced at the bathwater, which had turned a faint shade of brown.
Her maid met her gaze, and the corners of her eyes creased with a smile of sympathy. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Lady Arabella—and it’s not your fault you were abducted. Nobody need know about the dirt—I won’t tell.”
Bella sat up, trembling. “That’s enough, Connie,” she said coldly. “You dare comment on my ablutions?”
The maid blushed, her eyes bright with tears. “N-no. Forgive me, Lady Arabella. I was just saying—”
Bella rose to her feet, sloshing water from the bath. “In my experience, it’s better if a servant refrains from saying anything. Bring me a cloth, please, so I may dry myself.”
