Playing With Fire (28 page)

She hesitated, not trusting his sudden change of mood.  "I didn't jump, I fell."  She pointed to the tree canopy above her.  "From there."

He looked up then back at her, his gaze lingering like hot summer sunshine on her chest.  Her cheeks reddened and she moved instinctively to cover her breasts but stopped herself when he looked at her face again.

"Are you sure you're not injured?" he said.  "That's quite a fall." 

Pippa shrugged then winced at the pain in her shoulders.  "I'm perfectly fine.  Thank you.  I must be going."  She picked up her satchel, still resting against the tree trunk where she'd left it, and walked off.  Her hip felt a little sore but not enough to make her limp, something to be grateful for. 

"Wait!"  The rider joined her, leading his horse which followed meekly.  "It seems I owe you an apology."

"Yes." 

"Right."  He coughed.  "I'm sorry."

She inclined her head in acknowledgement.

"What's your name, lad?"

She glanced at him sideways.  "Pip."  It couldn't hurt to give him the false name she'd been using at inns between Shelton and London, and would continue to use at Ashbourne House. 

"Where are you heading?  Perhaps I could give you a ride.  Devil can hold both—"

"No!"  Good Lord, she couldn't sit behind this stranger!  Her breasts may be small and easily hidden beneath her oversized cloak and the thick leather of her jerkin, but squashing them against his back was a little too risky.  How could he fail not to notice them?  He was a man after all.

He looked taken aback.  "Are you sure?  You've just had a fall.  And a fright, if the expression on your face when Devil reared is anything to go by."

"I'm unharmed.  And I've not far to go."

"You're going to The Strand?"  He nodded in the direction they were heading. 

She said nothing and kept her eyes on the worn dirt path.

"Very well," he said, tartly.  "I can see you're not one to forgive easily."

"No, it's not—."  She bit her lip to stop herself talking.  Best to let him think her still annoyed.

He mounted and Devil began to prance as if sensing his master's urgency to be away.  "You'll want to arrive at your destination before nightfall, lad," the rider said with a nod at the sinking sun.  "London's not safe after dark."  He urged Devil on and the horse charged off before Pippa could politely thank him for his advice.

She blew out a breath, relieved to see the back of him.  If all Londoners were as unsettling as that man, she was in for a challenging time ahead. 

***

Lord Ashbourne's steward regarded Pippa closely before turning away as if bored.  The quick change in his manner made her uneasy and she held her breath waiting for him to speak, hoping he didn't see through her disguise.

"Would you care to sit?" he asked.

"No thank you, Sir."  She preferred to stand near the door to make escape easier if necessary.  A new habit, borne of two days fleeing in disguise.

"I understand you were enquiring after Mistress Dale?" he said, idly brushing his long fingers across the back of a chair.  Checking for dust? 

The chair was one of only two bracketing the fireplace in an otherwise bare chamber near the kitchens.  Clean rushes covered the floor but the walls and chairs were unadorned.  Not even a cushion offered comfort.  The steward, Fallon, had directed her to the room after she asked to speak to him.  The servant who'd let her in through the kitchen entrance hadn't been any help at all.  He'd told her he'd never heard of Georgiana Dale.  Thankfully Fallon didn't seem so ignorant.

"She was my mother's friend," Pippa explained.  "She wrote telling me I would find her here."

"You won't," he said, rubbing his fingertips together to remove the dust.  His attention seemed to be completely on his task.  If he wasn't speaking to her, Pippa would have thought he didn't even see her.  "She's gone," he went on.  "She left Lord Ashbourne's service two years ago."  His gaze met hers, direct and uncompromising.  "As her
friend
, you would have known that."

Pippa swallowed around the lump in her throat.  Gone?  And soon after her last letter by the sound of it.  "My mother died some time ago.  Mistress Dale wrote to me saying that if I ever needed her, I was to come here."

Fallon's brown eyes grew softer as he took in ever inch of her from her newly cropped hair to her dirty boots.  "I cannot help you.  I'm sorry." 

"Do you know where I can find her?"  Please let it not be far.  The sun was almost set and she needed somewhere to stay for the night.  What little money she'd taken with her had run out after she'd paid for the previous night's room.  If she left immediately, she could probably make it through the London gates before curfew.

"Haverford," he said. 

"Is that nearby?"

"About half a day's ride from here."

"Ride?" she said weakly.

He nodded and glanced past her to the door, looking eager to be gone himself.

Pippa wished she'd taken up the offer of a chair.  Her legs suddenly felt too weak to hold her.  "Haverford," she said to no one in particular.  "Oh."

His sad, bloodhound eyes regarded her again with cautious curiosity.  "Mistress Dale was a friend of your mother's, you say?"

"Yes."  She rallied under his sympathetic gaze.  She had come this far and would not crumble at the final stage.  All she needed was a bed for the night and then she would somehow complete her journey tomorrow.  "Great friends but I believe it was mostly by correspondence.  I've never met her."  It was the truth.  She had found during the years lived under her uncle's roof that it was best to keep to the truth where possible.  It made it easier to keep track of the lies.

He nodded thoughtfully.  "It'll be dark soon.  Do you have somewhere to stay, lad?"

"No.  I was hoping Mistress Dale would accommodate me here with the servants until she found me employment."  Another lie, quickly formed and not very well thought through.  She held her breath and watched the long, straight face of the imperial steward as he considered her words. 

"Employment?" he said.  "As what?  A pageboy perhaps?"

"Yes."  What did it matter now?  Georgiana was gone and Pippa would say anything to get a room for the night.

"Good.  Then you can start immediately."

"Pardon?"  She blinked at him. 

Fallon inclined his head.  "Last week the page of the wardrobe received news of his father's illness and had to leave unexpectedly.  You can take his position until he returns.  I'm sure Geor...Mistress Dale would approve."

Pippa's fingers tightened around the strap of her satchel.  "Page of the w, wardrobe?"

An almighty clatter from the kitchen made her jump.  Fallon looked irritably past her.  "It is a great honor," he said, distracted.

"B, but I simply want to find Mistress Dale.  She will help me—"

"To find employment, yes?  Well, you don't need to travel all the way to Haverford only to have her send you back here to be page of the wardrobe."  He looked at her as if she was a dullard. 

She snapped her mouth shut when she realized it was open.  "Are you sure I am the most suitable person?" 

The noise from the kitchens returned to the dull hum of earlier and his attention returned to Pippa.  "And why wouldn't you be?"

Because she didn't want employment, she only wanted a night's shelter.  And because she would have to see Lord Ashbourne naked!  She would be required to help him dress and attend to his most personal needs.  No, she couldn't possibly take the disguise that far.

"You require employment," he went on, not hiding his impatience, "Lord Asbhourne requires a page of the wardrobe."

"I've never been a page of the wardrobe before."  Never served anyone in her life although she had been around servants since she was born and knew the duties each performed in a major household.

"You seem a well-bred boy, if a little travel-stained, and his lordship would dismiss me on the spot if I turned away a friend of Mistress Dale's."  His eyes twinkled unexpectedly.  The effect was rather delightful. 

She longed to ask why his lordship would dismiss Fallon but refrained.  She would ask Georgiana herself when she saw her.  That's if she got through the night safely at Ashbourne House.  But not as the page of the wardrobe.  Certainly not. 

"Is there some other service I could undertake, Sir?  In the kitchens perhaps?  It's just that I don't think I am suited to be page of the wardrobe."

"Nonsense!  There's nothing to it.  You simply do as his lordship requests.  Besides, you're much too skinny to be of use anywhere else.  Don't worry, Gertie will help you settle in.  His lordship isn't expected to return until the morning anyway so you'll have all evening to familiarize yourself with your tasks."

Not expected until the morning?  Perfect.  She'd be gone by the time he returned.  "Then I accept.  Thank you, Sir."

"Good!  I'll send Gertie to show you to the master's apartments."  The steward moved past her, his stride brisk and purposeful. 

"Just one question," she said and he stopped in the doorway.  "Where will I sleep?"  As a male servant, she would normally share a bed with one of the other male servants.  It may be for only one night but that was long enough for her secret to be uncovered in the close proximity of a bed.  However, her uncle's page had slept in a separate room within hearing of his master's shout.  Hopefully the setup at Ashbourne House would be the same. 

"You'll have a room adjoining the master's chamber," Fallon said.  He gave her a brief nod of dismissal and left.

Pippa didn't let out her breath until the quick steps of the steward had disappeared.  She drew in another and the delicious scent of cinnamon from the kitchen made her stomach rumble.  She hadn't eaten since breaking her fast that morning. 

She sat on one of the high-back chairs, clutched her satchel on her lap, and waited. 

A few minutes later, a plump girl of about seventeen arrived and introduced herself as Gertie, one of the maids.  She eyed Pippa from head to foot, lingering on the groin area.  Pippa quickly stood and placed the satchel over herself before the maid found her lacking.

"You the Pip boy?" Gertie asked.

"Yes.  I'm the new page—"

"Of the wardrobe.  I know," the maid said cheerfully.  "Come on, let's go."  Gertie smiled and her entire face smiled too, from her brown eyes to her protruding front teeth.

"You new to London?" she asked, leading the way through the kitchen, two larders and a scullery. 

"Is it that obvious?"  Pippa wondered what had marked her as different.  Her clothes?  Her manner?

"You don't speak like one of us," Gertie said.  "Where you from?"

"The west," Pippa said vaguely.  "Tell me, what is Lord Ashbourne like?"  She needed to keep the maid talking to stop her asking too many questions.

"He's a good master," Gertie said as she led the way up the back stairs.  "Never raised a hand to any of us, even though Ralphy deserved it when he pinched the countess's necklace. 
She'd
have had Ralphy flogged but his lordship would hear nothin' of it.  Dismissed the little dog turd with full wages, so I heard."

Pippa followed Gertie up the next flight of stairs to the second floor.  "I'll get lost in this place."

"You get used to it.  Just remember these stairs lead straight to the master's lodgings and you can't go wrong.  Only the servants use them."  She paused and waited for Pippa to join her.  "And sometimes the master, so mind he doesn't knock you over if he passes you in a hurry.  These stairs aren't wide and you bein' so slight and him bein' so big...well, you'll come off worse."  She laughed and continued up.

"Why would his lordship come this way?"  The backstairs were built to provide access for the servants between the master's lodgings and the kitchen, larders and cellars.  Why would the earl want to traverse through such an undignified passage?

Gertie shrugged rounded shoulders.  "Who knows why he does anythin'?  He's...what's the word?  Unperdickable.  Yep, that's it."

"Unpredictable," Pippa corrected. 

"That's what I said.  Unperdickable.  He comes and goes when he pleases, no matter the hour, and..." she lowered her voice, "his visitors sometimes come and go at strange hours too.  Even in the middle of the night when they think we're all asleep."

Pippa's eyes widened.  "What sort of visitors?"

"All sorts.  Men, women—"

"Women!"  She bit her lip when Gertie shushed her with a finger to her lips.  "Oh, of course.  Women," Pippa said simply.  Why wouldn't the unwed earl have dalliances?  It was only natural.  Wasn't it?  She really had no idea. 

"His lordship's not in," Gertie said, opening a door at the top of the stairs.  "This is the master's wardrobe."  She swept her hand wide to encompass the daybed, large cupboard and coffers beside it and the fireplace surrounded by three stools.  Although the room had none of the embellishments Pippa was used to in her own wardrobe—not a single embroidered cushion, Turkey carpet or wall hanging—it didn't feel cold or uninviting.  The embers in the grate still glowed, effusing the room with warmth, and the last pale rays of daylight reached into even the furthest corner thanks to the large windows.  She ran her hand along the top of one of the coffers, enjoying the feel of the cedar, worn smooth from years of use and polishing.  The scent of cloves and something spicier lingered in the air.

"Is this where I am to sleep?" Pippa asked, wondering if she would be required to lie on a pallet on the floor.  She was so tired she wouldn't mind curling up near the enormous fire as long as the straw mattress was clean.

"No, your room is through there."  Gertie pointed to a door beside the stairwell entrance. 

Pippa peeked inside.  The room was tiny.  A small trestle bed was pushed up against one wall and an oak chest squatted opposite.  A single stool was situated to take in the view of the knot garden from the window. 

"Peter's things are still here," Gertie said, opening the chest.  She pulled out a garment in the Ashbourne colors of silver and green and held it up against Pippa.  "He was about your height so his livery should fit.  Everything'll be a bit big in the shoulders and legs but they'll do."  She pulled it away but continued to scrutinize Pippa.  "Get some of Cook's food into you and you'll soon be filling these out.  His beef broth'll put hairs on your chest, mark my words."