Diamonds & Deceit (8 page)

Rose was a little surprised by the blunt way he spoke about servants, but she was pleased that he didn’t feel the need to conceal his feelings before her. She opened her mouth to contradict him, to say that she had begun composing as a housemaid herself, but at that moment something else caught her attention. Over the duke’s shoulder she could see that Ada and Charlotte had entered the room. Both were watching her. Ada looked troubled. Charlotte looked angry. Rose felt self-conscious, but some defiant spark in her made her stay where she was.

“Rose.” The countess stepped into the doorway behind Charlotte and Ada, smiling frostily. “I’m so glad to have found you. We were worried you’d wandered off and become lost,” she said. “Ah—Your Grace!” she exclaimed, pretending to notice Alexander for the first time. “How perfect. Charlotte and I were just saying we would be so grateful for your opinion on some of these charming bronzes. I know you’re quite a collector yourself.”

“I’d be delighted,” he replied smoothly. With a nod to Rose, he walked away toward the countess.

Rose turned back to the paintings, feeling a little embarrassed at Ada’s searching gaze. The name of the artist was discreetly placed on the gilt frames. She drew closer to one and looked at it: Alexander Ross, Fifth Duke of Huntleigh.

Rose stood as still as if she had just glimpsed the head of a Gorgon. The thoughtless words with which she had criticized the paintings—told him that they were sad, empty, that he didn’t know what he was painting about—flashed back into her mind. She put her hands to her cheeks, which were flaming with mortification. Oh, why didn’t I look at the frame before I spoke to him! Why! she thought.

It was raining as they came back from the exhibition, a spring shower that only seemed to make the sun that followed sparkle more brightly. None of it was any comfort to Rose. She had sat in total silence the whole way back, now and then burning with embarrassment as she remembered her awful faux pas. They had been getting on so well—and she had ruined it. Again and again she remembered the unsmiling expression on his face. No wonder! He had been too tactful to reply—he was as well-bred as Ada in that sense—but he must have been furious with her. As if I knew anything about art anyway! she scolded herself. She sank into her seat, miserable to her core. He must think me so pretentious, a housemaid talking about things she doesn’t understand.

“It really is time that you put it on an official footing,” the countess said to Ada as the cab turned into the square, their horse trotting smartly through the puddles. The feathers on the countess’s hat nodded sharply.

“There’s no rush,” Ada replied.

“There is every rush. There are a thousand things to organize. The trousseau must be ordered, the banns published, the invitations printed and sent—my goodness, these days a society wedding is like a military campaign!” The cab drew to a halt before Milborough House, and the countess waited with impatience for the coachman to get down and open the door of the cab. Stepping down onto the pavement, she added, “People are beginning to ask questions, and that is never a good sign. You need to secure Lord Fintan, before he changes his mind.”

“If he’s so prone to change his mind, perhaps I shouldn’t be marrying him,” Ada said dryly.

“That joke was in extremely poor taste,” the countess snapped. She paused to speak to the footman. “About this evening’s engagements…”

Rose, Ada, and Charlotte walked on to the house.

“Well?” Charlotte quietly said to Rose, as they reached the porch. “What did the famous duke have to say?”

Rose was aware of the blush in her cheeks and of Ada’s troubled gaze. She shook the rain from her umbrella, scattering diamond drops onto the street.

“We talked about art,” she said lightly.

“And did he engage you for the next ball?” Charlotte’s voice was flint.

Rose was saved from replying as the countess reached them. No, he didn’t, she thought, and he probably never will again.

“It is possible to speak to a man just in a friendly way, you know,” she said quietly, “without any thought of dancing with him or—or marrying him.”

She walked in, but she couldn’t escape Charlotte’s hissed reply. “Not during the season, my dear.”

The butler—Sanders, she remembered, was his name—inclined his head toward her as she removed her hat in front of the mirror.

“There is a person to see you, my lady.” His voice carried just a touch of disapproval.

“A person?” Rose paused in the act of removing her hat pin and met his gaze, startled.

“I requested that she wait in the kitchen. Her name is Annie Bailey.”

“Annie!” Rose was stunned. She glanced around swiftly, but her sisters and the countess had gone upstairs. What was Annie doing here, so far from Somerton? Had something terrible happened—perhaps to her mother.…

“I’ll go down at once,” she managed. She crossed the hall with hasty steps, only pausing when she realized she did not know which of the doors led to the servants’ passages. Thankfully Sanders was just behind her, and smoothly guided her to the correct one.

Rose had never been into the servants’ quarters at Milborough House before. The smell was the same as at Somerton—stale cooking and carbolic soap. She inhaled deeply as she went down the bare stairs. This was all so familiar, almost frighteningly so. She hurried on to the kitchen. There, at the big oak table, before a backdrop of the ovens and the gleaming copper pans, sat Annie in her best hat and only coat. She looked nervous, but the instant their eyes met, Rose could not stop the smile that broke over her face. Annie looked relieved, and then beamed herself, jumping to her feet.

“Rose!”

They ran into each other’s arms. Rose hugged her friend, then stood back, smiling at her. Annie’s expression as she looked her up and down made her feel a little uncomfortable. It was so admiring that Rose had to accept that she had changed.

“Annie! What a delight to see you, and what a surprise! But why—has anything happened?”

“No, no. Don’t worry. I left everyone well and as usual.” Annie tossed her head as if she were shaking Somerton off. “Look at you! What a fine lady you’ve become. Do me a twirl, go on.”

Rose, embarrassed but pleased, did a twirl. Annie clapped her hands. “Oh, don’t you look fine! This is going to be so much fun, Rose. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it earlier.”

“Think of what?” Rose was aware of Sanders still watching them from the passage, and she found herself feeling a little uncomfortable. “Why are you here, Annie?”

“To be your lady’s maid, of course!” Annie beamed. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it earlier.” Rose gazed wordlessly at Annie’s smiling, happy, confident face. “You and me, Rose, we’ve always been friends.” Annie ran on. “We’ll have even more fun now you’re a lady! You’ll be able to help me make my way in society. I’m sure I can manage your frocks as well as any Frenchy. And you did say you missed me.…” She trailed off, a little uncertain.

It was impossible. Rose knew that, and she also knew as certainly that she could not say so to Annie, not now, not to her face.

“It’s a good idea,” she said, clasping Annie by the shoulders and speaking with all the genuine affection she felt for her. “It may be a little tricky to—but never mind, we’ll think about all that later. I must go upstairs now. The countess will be wondering where I am, and we don’t want her to find you here.”

Annie turned slightly pale. Rose felt mean for having scared her, but it was important that Annie didn’t go wandering around upstairs, getting herself into even more trouble. She had to make sure Annie still had a place to go back to at Somerton, and the best way was to keep this all very quiet indeed.

“I handed in my notice,” Annie said bravely. “I did it to Lady Georgiana, to her face. I said I wasn’t prepared to work below my station anymore, and I had a better offer.”

Rose took a deep breath. “Well, that’s…well, I know you can do anything you set your mind to, Annie.”
And I’ll help you to,
she thought,
only not like this.
She turned to the door. “Sanders.”

“My lady.” The butler came into view in the shadowy passage. Rose saw how Annie look startled at the authority with which she addressed him. No, Annie had not thought this through, not at all.

“Please arrange somewhere for Miss Bailey to sleep,” she said. She knew that would please Annie, being called Miss Bailey. “She will be staying here until further notice.”

“Very good, my lady.” The butler sounded doubtful. “Er…will it be upstairs or, er…”

“Oh, I’m quite ready to stay in the servants’ quarters!” Annie said, and Rose could hear she was nervous and a little frightened. What on earth could she do? she wondered. How could she manage the situation?

As she walked back up the servants’ stairs, the smell of carbolic soap and Annie’s sudden appearance made her feel very homesick for Somerton.

Priya walked across the sweeping lawn, away from Somerton Court’s imposing walls and toward the clump of trees known as Hob’s Dell. Augustus held on to the hem of her dress and toddled alongside her.

“Ice cream!” he demanded.

“We can go and find ice cream in a moment,” Priya answered. “Let’s go over here first. Let’s see the hollow tree.” She tried not to sound impatient.

“Why?”

“Because it’s beautiful, and old.” And out of sight of the house, she thought, hurrying on. The scent of roses swelled, heavy, from the nearby beds.

“Why?”

“Well, because it’s lived a long time.” She could see it now, the oak on the border of the copse. It was draped in ivy, bare branches jutting from it like a stag’s antlers.

“Why?”

Priya managed to hold her tongue, even when Augustus sullenly pinched her. She knew it would do no good. Augustus would only run crying to his mamma if she told him off, and she needed him in a good mood.

She half ran, half slid down the bank to the tree. The copse was dark and green and cool in front of her. Standing on tiptoe, she reached inside the ivy, feeling around until she found the hollow in the tree that she knew was there. Her hand found something. A rectangular, heavy object wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. A book!

A smile spread over her face. She glanced back to make sure Augustus wasn’t watching. He wasn’t; he was paddling in the mud. She’d get in trouble for that later, but it was worth it. She drew the book out of the hole. She just had time to glance at the tooled leather cover and see that it was
A Duke for Daisy
by R. J. Peak, the romance novel that everyone in the servants’ quarters was talking about, before another hand took hers.

She gasped and spun round. Michael stepped out from behind the tree trunk. Seeing it was him, Priya relaxed with a relieved laugh.

“Did I startle you?” Michael smiled at her. “I’m sorry.”

“Only a little.” Priya hesitated, then hurried on. “You got it for me—thank you!” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Lately, it was only these stolen moments with Michael when she felt truly calm and happy. She didn’t know what she would do without him—as she surely would be when he came to his senses and remembered his family and his obligations. For now, though, she couldn’t bear to send him away as she had done so many times in the beginning, when he first began courting her.

“What was I to do? I mustn’t keep you from your duke,” Michael teased her.

Priya had read the first fifty pages in snatches when Lady Edith’s maid had left the novel lying around, and had been able to think of nothing else for the past fortnight. Apparently she hadn’t hid her obsession from Michael very well.

“I can’t wait to find out what happens next.” She flipped through the pages eagerly.

“My little bookworm.” Michael tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “So you’re going to read instead of talk to me, then?”

“Just one chapter,” Priya said with a smirk, pretending to be engrossed. Michael began trailing soft kisses down her neck. Priya’s breath caught, and she lifted her face to his. Their lips met.

Augustus splashed loudly in his puddle, suddenly aware that he had been forgotten. Michael pulled away from Priya. “Here you go,” he told Augustus. He produced a bar of chocolate from his pocket. Augustus took it and greedily began unwrapping it.

“That will keep him busy,” Michael said, turning back to Priya. The chocolate would also keep him awake most of the night, Priya knew, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. “Now…”

They kissed, and Priya snuggled into the warm security of his arms.

“I feel so safe when I’m with you,” she murmured.

“I hope you feel safe all the time,” Michael said, looking at her keenly.

“Yes, of course.” She looked down at the book, then up with a bright smile. “I had a letter from my parents. My brother has won a scholarship to a better school!”

“That’s wonderful! Perhaps you won’t have to send your wages home, then.”

“Oh no, there is the uniform to buy, a cricket bat.…”

“You’re so selfless, to only think of helping your family,” Michael told her admiringly. “I hope your brothers are grateful.”

“I hope they are too!” Priya laughed, but her cheerfulness faded quickly. She glanced over her shoulder, back toward the house. The stately golden-stone mansion rose behind her on the hill. Of course she could not see at this distance, but she had a strange feeling someone was watching her from the nursery window.

“You’re shivering,” Michael said, moving toward her. “Here, take my coat.”

She didn’t have time to protest before he had draped it around her shoulders. He stood for a second, his arm around her shoulders. She looked up into his blue, rebellious eyes. He loved her. She could see that, trust it. It was as solid as the ground she walked on. If only she could tell him how uncomfortable Sir William made her feel.… But after all, nothing had happened, really, and Annie was no doubt right, she was imagining things. She realized that he too looked troubled.

“Is something worrying you, Michael?”

“Well, yes. It’s Eton.”

“The school?”

“Mother wants me to go back. I’ve told her I’m not a child. The Beaks order you about, and the boys are worse. Nothing but dreary Latin verbs, what’s the good of that? We ought to run away together. I’ll join the army, and you can come along with me. You wouldn’t mind the life of a soldier’s wife, would you?”

“I wouldn’t mind anything by your side,” she said, with a smile. “But should you be so quick to reject Eton? I think you are lucky to have the chance of going there.”

“Lucky!” He snorted. “You wouldn’t say that if you had to light a prefect’s fire in the shivering cold at five in the morning.”

Priya swallowed a smile. That was the life of any housemaid—and it didn’t end at eighteen. “You will be a man soon—you already are—and men must be well educated if they are to be respected and if they are to be able to do all the work that is required of them. Think how it would look to be an officer in the army and not know all the things that the others do. You owe it to yourself to make the most of your education.”

She placed a hand on his arm. Once again she thought of the shadow at the window, the shadow that she never seemed quite able to escape. “I want you to go back to school, please, Michael,” she said softly. “I want to know that you are happy and—and free.”