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Authors: Deception at Midnight

Corey McFadden (33 page)

BOOK: Corey McFadden
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After all, he reasoned to himself, running his other hand down the length of her, it was not an hour past dawn. His errands would have to await the opening of several commercial establishments, anyway. He set to work in earnest, pleased and excited by her ardent response. He had half-feared a resumption this morning of her arguments of last night, and he had little relish for leaving her, as he had offered to do, cold and aloof in her honor.

The timid rap on the door startled them both. Drat! He had forgotten that he had already rung the kitchen.

“Come in,” he fairly snarled as Molly bolted under the covers and pulled away from him.

He noticed with amusement that she lay still as a mouse while the shy kitchen maid deposited her tray on the night stand next to the bed and with a bob and mumbled “Good morning,” made her way quickly out of the room.

“You can come out now, monkey.” He laughed. “I don’t think the girl would have seen you if you had been doing pirouettes in the middle of the bed. Her eyes never left her shoes.”

Molly peeped out from under the sheets. He was chagrined to note the shame in her face, though she said nothing.

“What on earth difference does it make if that poor little waif sees you in bed? She’s only a kitchen maid, after all, a servant....”

“As am I, my lord, you will recall,” Maude answered a touch tartly. “And her opinion matters to me.” She drew away from him, pulling the sheets with her and sitting up, completely covered. “As you reminded me last night, my present options are limited. I cannot afford to offend anyone. Especially not the help.”

He sat up and reached for the coffeepot, willing himself not to allow his temper to rear up at her words. She had all but accused him of being a snob. And here he was, damned near ready to ask her to marry him!

Pouring the coffee into the delicate porcelain cup, he handed it to her, careful not to spill the scalding liquid. He sipped at his own cup, the silence thundering between them. Again, it came to him that he knew nothing that was verifiable about this girl. Half of what she said could be lies, maybe more. She was lovely; she was luscious; she was infinitely entertaining. And she was a liar. Setting the cup down almost too abruptly for its shell-like delicacy, he flung the covers off and stood. He would have answers to this puzzle by the end of the day, if he had to bribe everyone in London.

Maude cast the slightest of glances in his direction, disinclined to show any further interest in his movements. There he was, though, in the very corner of her vision, naked and beautiful, the sun glinting off his golden skin. He gave a long stretch and a great yawn, like a tawny lion awakening for his day’s hunt, oblivious to the great gift of beauty nature had provided him. Several long strides took him to his clothing, where it had fallen the night before. With an nonchalance that for some reason made her want to fling her cup at his head, he started to dress. Maude’s temperature began to rise again. So he was off, was he, just like that? Thank you, ma’am, for an enjoyable evening?

“Why don’t you leave a few pounds on the table, my lord? I don’t give credit.” She spat the bitter words at him before she had a chance to think how he would react. He turned on her with a glint of anger in his eye that made her wish she had thought before she spoke.

“I do not recall that we had settled on a price yet, miss. I’ll leave that for later consideration. Right now I have other, more pressing business to tend to.” He jammed his arm into his shirt sleeve, then buttoned himself with angry, tight precision. “As I recall, the dressmaker will be here at ten or so this morning to fit you out. Select anything you wish. I don’t care what you spend. I shall return this evening. We will sup here and settle your affairs at that time. I trust I shall find you here when I return?”

“Where the bloody hell else would I go at this point?” she snapped. “I haven’t got a stitch to put on at the moment, if you will recall!”

“What I recall is that you are very resourceful at disguise. Do not even think about playing the boy again. And in case you are thinking about it, let me inform you that there is only one male servant in this establishment, and he is considerably larger than you are.”

Fully dressed now, he strode to the door and pulled it open, pausing only to fling back at her, “And you will not appropriate the maid’s uniform either. I expect you to do me the courtesy of being here when I return this evening. What happens after that is up to you.”

With a slam to shake the pictures on the walls, he was gone, leaving Maude sputtering. “Damn, damn, and damn!” she shrieked, tearing at the bedclothes with frustration and fury. The pillow aimed at the door fell impotently to the floor, several feet short of its target. He knows I have no choice in this, she fumed to herself.

Leaping from the bed, she swept up the remnants of the maid’s uniform Mrs. Formby had provided for her the day before. Hopeless! No one could be seen in those tatters. She would be more exposed than covered! Standing naked in the middle of the floor, pondering her options, she was horrified to hear a tap on the door.

“Just a moment... wait a moment, please!” she cried out, dropping the tattered dress to the floor and bounding for the bed. She gained the sanctity of the bedclothes just as the door swung open to reveal the befuddled-looking serving girl, tray in hand, her eyes still glued to her shoes.

“’Is lordship said you’d be wantin’ your breakfast up ’ere, miss, and some ’ot water for washin’. I can come back later, if you’d like.”

Her voice was not much above a whisper, and Maude had to strain to hear her.

“N-no, I’ll have it now, thank you.” Maude clutched at the covers, holding them to her chin. Oh, for a prim cotton nightgown at this moment! she raged to herself, her face beet-red with embarrassment. How dare he put her in such an awkward position? Although, to be fair, the girl had yet to look up. One had to wonder how she could negotiate the furniture like that.

“If you’ll just set it down, I’ll manage, thank you.” Maude was anxious to get the girl out of the room, certain that the sheets had suddenly become transparent.

“If you please, miss...” The girl set the tray down and stood, still staring at the fascinating shoes.

“Yes, what is it?” Maude tried to keep the sharpness out of her voice. It was not this child’s fault that the man was a pig and a cad and an oaf and she was naked.

“’Is lordship said I was to ’elp you get presentable. The dressmaker’ll be ’ere in an ’our or so. I’m sorry you lost all your baggage in the coach robbery.” The girl ventured the tiniest peek at her new mistress, only to find the young woman staring at her with mouth agape.

“Miss?” the girl queried, fearful that she had somehow said the wrong thing. Her eyes found her shoes again. This was her first post; she had been hired yesterday. Mum had said it was time for her to go into service. She was fourteen.

Recovering herself, Maude smiled. A coach robbery. How clever. And it would help her save face about the fact that she hadn’t a stitch to her name. “It’s all right. Tell me, what is your name?”

“Anna, miss,” said the girl, again sneaking just the slightest glance up at the young woman.

“Well, Anna, as you can see, I am in an awkward position. I have nothing to get presentable with.”

Maude smiled warmly at the girl. Never again would she treat a servant like a piece of furniture. It was not that she had ever been unkind like her aunt had been. It was just that it had been so easy to ignore these noiseless creatures who moved through one’s household, smoothing things, making life so much easier and more convenient for their

‘betters’.

To the gentry, this was a silent class, a group of machines that should be well-oiled and trouble-free. But now that Maude knew the truth about below stairs, she would not be able to be so blind again. These were real people with real feelings, real problems and real lives. And much humor and quick wit.

“But, if you please, miss .. .”

Her small voice had gained a little confidence and Maude no longer had to strain to hear her.

“’Is lordship ’ad some things brought round yesterday for you. Just some dressin’ gowns that did not need real fittin’ so that you could see the dressmaker, proper-like...” she trailed off, uncertain of this new mistress. No one liked a chatterbox, her mum had told her.

“How...convenient.” Maude had been about to say “kind,” but recollected that it was his fault she was sans attire after all. “Well, Anna, let me eat a little something and then I will ring for you.”

“Yes, miss.”

The girl bobbed a little curtsey, and scrambled for the door. Maude could not resist a smile at her haste. Apparently, the girl was as anxious to depart as Maude was to have her do so.

She ate her breakfast with great relish. For all that she had a great deal to worry about, it had not affected her appetite. She had never been one to pick like a bird as young ladies were taught to do. It was one of the reasons she had been such a success as a boy, she thought ruefully. It was odd how the thought of Mike brought a little twist to her heart. There was no denying that despite the horrible circumstances that had led her to attempt the disguise, she had had some of the best fun of her life, running the streets with a freedom she had known before only in her dreams. With a sigh, she shook off the thought. There would be no more Mike, that was certain. Now she was Molly, and at present, like it or not, mistress to an earl.

This was insupportable! In the light of day, over boiled eggs and toast, away from the spell his presence cast over her, she could see that the situation was impossible from all angles. It was like the distortion produced by a kaleidoscope, shifting, changing, sometimes fascinating, but never a true picture. Though her actions of the past two days had laid low her honor, she would do nothing further to besmirch the Romney name, even though no one knew she was a Romney.

Well, that is all well and good, she thought, reaching for another piece of buttered toast. But what will I do instead? It would be wrong, she knew, to accept his favors, living like a queen at his expense while shunning his attentions. It was astonishing that he had even made such a suggestion. Although Maude’s acquaintance with young gentlemen of the
ton
was slight at best, she was certain few, if any, would make such a generous offer. It spoke so well of his character, she thought with a long sigh.

If only they had met under different circumstances....But, no, there was no point in pursuing that line of thinking. And besides, she thought, slathering her toast a bit viciously with marmalade, he had known her as an eligible young lady and far from being smitten, he had noticed so little about her that he had not even recognized that the girl who graced his bed was none other than his country neighbor!

And what would she do when he appeared before her again, with his generosity and his touch that drove all reason from her? She knew she had not the power to banish him from her bed, or from her life for that matter. Maude did not know just when she had come to love him, but love him she did, be it her ruin.

She pushed the tray to one side and slid out of bed. The thick carpet felt good on her bare feet. She walked to the armoire, hoping she could find something suitably modest to don before the timid Anna returned.

Opening the heavy mahogany doors, she gaped at the array of pastel froth that met her eyes. One by one she pulled the airy garments out. Every one was transparent! She giggled in spite of herself. The man was bent on seduction, that was certain. But what on earth did he expect her to appear in in front of a dressmaker?

Ah, there was something, right at the end. Pulling it out, she studied the beautiful quilted silk dressing gown, prim enough for a matron, but rich enough for a queen. It was a beautiful pastel green, embroidered all over with tiny, perfect pink roses. Maude had never had anything so grand in her life, and it was a dressing gown! Hanging underneath it were a delicate chemise and underthings in white silk with lace stitched carefully around the edges. Everything was mercifully opaque. These few garments must have been selected for the benefit of the dressmaker.

After spreading them out on the chair, Maude walked to the washstand. She poured the warm water from the ewer into the large bowl and picked up a washcloth. There was a cake of soft pink soap with a rose carved in it. As she lathered it into the cloth, she luxuriated in the delicious scent of fresh roses. Although the room was still chilly, she reveled in her standing bath, delighting in the sweet scent and the clean, cooling water. Her wound barely ached at all now and a quick peek under the bandage showed it to be healing clean and pink. With a laugh, she dunked her head into the bowl, then lathered her red curls. Ah, the joy of short hair! she thought to herself as she poured the water over her head to rinse out the fragrant suds. Perhaps most of all she would miss Mike’s hair.

A thick white towel hung on the rack on the side of the washstand, and she used it to towel herself dry, and wrap around her wet hair. Shivering a bit, she stepped quickly into the pretty undergarments and wrapped the thick robe about her. It buttoned primly at the chin and fell gracefully to her feet. Catching a glimpse of herself in the tall mirror standing in one corner, she giggled at her reflection, every inch a proper lady—until she took the towel from her short mop. What would the dressmaker think of that? Perhaps his lordship had told the woman her hair had been chopped off in the robbery as well.

Certain that she now looked proper enough to admit her little chambermaid, Maude rang, then settled herself in the broad armchair to await the child. She did not have long to wait. The girl must have been hovering by the bell and made a sprint for the bedchamber as soon as it had rung. Again came the timid little knock and this time Maude was able to give a calm, dignified, “Come in.” In crept Anna, her eyes on her shoes, bobbing a quick curtsey.

“I’ve washed and dressed myself, Anna, so I will not need your help for that,” Maude began. Anna’s eyes flew up, fright written across her young face. “No, it’s all right, child. I wanted to do it myself, really,” she said quickly, as the girl continued to look abashed. “Really, I’m used to seeing to myself. I did not need help.” The girl looked somewhat relieved. Maude made a mental note to herself to make sure that the head of this household’s staff was not abusing the child to create such fear in her.

BOOK: Corey McFadden
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