What A Gentleman Wants (15 page)

“Yes, Your Grace.” Lily was somehow across the room ahead of her, uncovering dishes and arranging things. Hannah marveled at how neatly it was done. She picked up her fork to taste a plump little sausage, but stopped as she noticed Lily tidying the room.

“Really, there’s no need for that,” she said. “Please sit for a moment.”

Lily paused and stared, her arms filled with bedclothes. “Your Grace?” Hannah motioned to the other chair near the table.

“Please, sit down.”

After a moment, Lily obeyed, her surprise disappearing behind her usual calm. She sat on the edge of her chair, tucking her feet under it, and folded her hands in her lap, as if she were sitting only on the expectation that she would soon be on her feet again. Hannah finished the sausage, and took a sip of tea. “Is the duke a good employer?” she blurted before she could think better of it. While none seemed mistreated, there was something unnatural about the Exeter servants.

Lily didn’t blink. “He is a fair master, Your Grace. I am honored to serve his household.”

“But do you like it here?”

“I have been quite content, madam. I hope to please you.”

Heavens, no wonder the duke had an inflated opinion of himself. He was surrounded by people who practically kissed his boots, even in his absence. Hannah pushed aside
the
poached egg and took a slice of toast. The cook really did make divine bread; she would have to ask for the recipe before she left. Lily’s eyes moved quickly to the tray, as if cataloging what she ate and what she skipped. Somehow Hannah just knew the tray Lily brought tomorrow—and she had a feeling Lily would, unless told not to—would only hold those things she had eaten.

“Well, Lily, if you wish to please me…” Hannah paused. She had never, in the entire course of her life, been able to command another person to do her will and know that it would be done. “You must always speak your mind, when I ask your opinion,” she said firmly. “I am not the duke, and you do not have to whisper in my presence. I shan’t need your aid for everything, and will ring when I do require it. Other than that, you may attend to your own business.”

That seemed eminently reasonable to Hannah. She didn’t need or really want Lily coming into her room every morning to put out her clothes or to bring her breakfast. Those were just many of the luxuries she would be wise to avoid, if she were to return to her former life with any ease. This was only for a few weeks, she reminded herself.

Lily blinked. “Your Grace, it is my purpose to help you in everyway…”

“And when I need it, I shall ask for it.”

The maid’s eyes widened. “Yes, madam.”

“In fact,” Hannah confessed, “I don’t even know what a lady’s maid does. I wouldn’t know what to tell you to do, anyway.”

“Anything you wish, Your Grace. I have some talent arranging hair, and my cousin is the dowager duchess’s maid. She has been training me to assist you.” Lily still spoke in a soft, even voice that would be almost unheard by anyone not attending.

“Why does everyone whisper?” The question came out before Hannah had fully considered it.

Lily’s impassive face didn’t change. “His Grace prefers the servants not call attention to themselves, madam.”

“What a pity for him you can’t turn yourselves invisible,” said Hannah under her breath. Lily said nothing, but the slightest catch in her breath indicated the maid had heard. Hannah winced; she wasn’t giving a very good account of herself, mocking the duke behind his back. She suddenly realized Lily would be out of a job when the fraud marriage ended. “What did you do before?”

“I was responsible for the more delicate items of the laundry, madam, and assisting
the
dowager duchess’s maid and Lady Celia’s maid when they were in London.”

Heavens above, even the servants had servants. But then that meant Lily had been promoted to her new post, and Hannah began to feel rather bad that she would lose her new status fairly soon. She straightened the dishes on the tray, more and more dismayed by this arrangement. She didn’t want to feel responsible for Lily, but it was an undeniable fact that the maid would suffer from her departure. “And what does this new position mean to you?”

Finally, Lily seemed at a loss. “In what way, Your Grace?”

“Well, are your wages higher?” Hannah wished she hadn’t said anything. What could she do about it, even if Lily were reduced to blacking boots? “Better quarters, or… or something?”

The maid looked thoroughly perplexed now. “I have no complaint with my room or my salary, Your Grace.”

“Well, very good!” Flustered, Hannah drained her teacup and pushed back the tray. “I think I shall get dressed now.” Without thinking, she began ordering the tray, replacing covers and stacking the dishes so they would be less likely to fall off going downstairs. The duke would probably prosecute her for damages if she broke anything.

Lily sprang to her feet and reached for the tray. “I’ll see to it, Your Grace.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Hannah paced across the room, all her discomfort returning. Could she tell the duke she didn’t want a maid? He would probably insist upon it, for appearances’ sake. She opened the wardrobe and got out her sturdy gray wool, as well as her walking boots. Perhaps doing something ordinary like taking Molly for a walk would restore some order to her life.

She had barely unbuttoned her nightdress again when there was a tap at the door. It opened and Rosalind sailed in before Hannah could say a word. “Wonderful, you’re awake!” she said gaily. “Madame Lescaut, my dressmaker, will be here shortly. We must begin your wardrobe.”

“Oh, but… but…” Hannah clutched her dress in front of her protectively. “I was planning to take Molly to the park.”

“Good heavens, we haven’t time! Perhaps later we’ll have time for a stroll.” She eyed the gray dress in Hannah’s hands. “Much later.” Another tap on the door came, and Rosalind called, “Come!” Two servants carried in a large copper tub, and several more followed with buckets of steaming water. “I thought you might like a bath,” Rosalind confided quietly. Hannah mustered a smile. A bath did sound lovely, but she didn’t like being overruled on going to the park.

After she had bathed—while Rosalind sat and talked her way through several fashion periodicals, much to Hannah’s discomfort—Molly bounded in, down the private staircase that connected the duchess’s suite to the nursery. Molly had been enchanted by the thought of her own room and her own stairs. Hannah caught her up gratefully; this was normal, she thought, breath-ing deeply of Molly’s little girl smell as her daughter hugged her.

“Mama, may we go to the park today?” Molly’s brown eyes shone. “Celia says there is a pond with ducks.”

Hannah smiled. “Of course we may.” Rosalind made a soft noise behind her, and Hannah flinched. For a split second she almost said she didn’t want a new wardrobe. But then Rosalind would probably go to the duke, and he would be sure to come scold her again. “Later,” she told Molly, trying to hide her feelings.

Molly pouted. “Now, Mama. You don’t have to cook, and Celia told me we must not dig in the garden, for Mr. Griggs—he’s the gardener, Mama— will be angry with us, but the garden belongs to Extera and we might ask him if we may dig—”

“Later, Molly,” Hannah cut in. Extera? She didn’t even want to know what the duke would say if she asked permission to let Molly dig in his beautiful, formal garden.

“We must hire a nursemaid as well,” said Rosalind in an undertone.

“No,” said Hannah at once.

The duchess’s eyebrows went up. “But, Hannah, you’ll be very busy. Molly will need someone to mind her.”

“I will,” said Hannah firmly. “I am her mother.”

Rosalind stared at her with a mixture of curiosity and surprise. “Molly will be fine. Celia had a nursemaid, and I never felt less than a mother.”

“No, no—I didn’t mean to imply that.” Hannah closed her mouth in frustration. She didn’t want Molly used to someone else taking care of her, and she didn’t want to lose her one last link to her real life. Some things were inviolate, after all.

Molly looked at her with big eyes. “What is a nursemaid?”

“Someone to play with you, and fetch your tea, and give you baths and help you dress,” said Rosalind.

Molly frowned. “That’s Mama.”

Rosalind sighed as Hannah beamed, pleased beyond words by Molly’s response. “Well, we’ll decide that later. For now—” She turned to Lily. “Take Miss Molly up to the nursery this morning. We’ve a great deal to do.”

Lily curtsied. “Yes, Your Grace.”

Hannah felt a bit better. It would give Lily something to do when Hannah didn’t need her, and it would spare another employee in the duke’s household whose position was only temporary. Lily held out her hand to Molly, who slid out of Hannah’s arms and regarded her hopefully.

“May we go outside?” she asked.

A faint smile crossed Lily’s face. “Perhaps,” she said in her quiet voice. “We mustn’t get you dirty.”

Molly’s face lit up. “Oh, Mama won’t mind! So long as we scrape our shoes before we come in. May we, Mama?”

Hannah laughed and bent to kiss Molly’s forehead. “You may, but mind Lily. Best manners, Miss Preston.”

Molly nodded, her blond curls bouncing. She took Lily’s hand and all but dragged the maid from the room.

It’s not a perfect solution, but it will do for now,“ said Rosalind. ”Lily will be needed here. Come! We’ve so much to do.“ Satisfied with her victory about the nursemaid, Hannah docilely went, unaware that it was the last inch Rosalind would yield for the next fortnight

Being a duchess, it turned out, was a great deal more complicated than being the wife of a duke, or even just the pretend wife of a duke. One must look the part. Hannah’s long never-been-cut hair was snipped and trimmed into a more fashionable tumble of curls. A wide variety of cosmetics and perfumes soon covered the top of the dressing table, including creams to turn the work-roughened skin of her hands and the tanned skin of her face and neck into a duchess’s soft white skin. Hannah didn’t think they were necessary, but Rosalind insisted.

One must act the part. Good manners were not enough, Rosalind advised. One must know not only a person’s rank, but also their social standing and whether they were scandalous or not. Some of the gossip she related made Hannah’s ears burn. Of course there had been gossip in Middleborough, but Stephen had believed it quite wicked, and most of the chattering hens had taken care to gossip away from the vicar and his wife. Hannah wished Rosalind would do the same. But she had given her word, and she didn’t want to embarrass herself, so she listened, hoping she would be able to forget the most scandalous parts when she left London.

But most importantly, it seemed, one must dress the part. The dressmaker came every day, measuring and fitting Hannah for more clothing than she could wear in a lifetime. Only by keeping in mind the duke’s statement that he would discuss any overspending with Rosalind did Hannah keep quiet. Once he got the first bill, she was sure, he would step in and put a stop to things.

She was standing on the dressmaker’s stool, being pinned into yet another gown, when the duke did come. It was the first time she had seen him in a week, and that time had been only across the vast dining table, with Rosalind and Celia as buffer, to say nothing of a dozen hovering servants. He’d barely said a word, and his glowering silence had oppressed the whole table; even Celia’s irrepressible chatter had gone quiet It was also the first interruption in a day that was following the same monotonous pattern Rosalind had established, and as such, Hannah didn’t react to it at first She just stood there, stupidly staring back at him, thinking one thing: at last.

The room fell abruptly quiet as Rosalind, the dressmaker, and her assistants noticed his presence. Hannah wondered what sort of self-possession it took to walk into a room—without knocking—and simply know that everyone would pause to acknowledge his entrance.

“Might I have a word?” he said, in that same cool, deep tone she remembered too well, his impenetrable dark eyes on her. Hannah flushed as Madame Lescaut and her seamstresses rushed for the door like a flock of sheep being herded by a half dozen collies.

“Naturally!” chirped Rosalind, sending Hannah a sly smile. “I quite understand.” And she slipped out with them, closing the door behind her.

For a moment Hannah didn’t move, frozen in awkward silence. The duke was just staring at her, his expression unreadable, his hands clasped behind his back. Gingerly she climbed down from the stool, trying to avoid being speared by all the pins holding the half-sewn gown together. “Yes?”

“I see your wardrobe is progressing.”

Hannah started to lift one shoulder, but had to stop. “I did warn you. Rosalind seems to think a duchess cannot have too many clothes.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Indeed. And you’ve not yet expired under the strain. Remarkable.”

The sharp retort was on Hannah’s lips almost before she caught herself. But she did, just in the nick of time. She caught the odd light in his eyes, and realized he was needling her, and so she managed not to snap back at him. “Not yet, no,” she agreed calmly. Though it’s been a near miss, I can tell you.“

His eyes gleamed. “Then it is time we made a public appearance.” He crossed the room and handed her a thick ivory card.

It was an invitation to a ball, to be held in two days’ time by Lord and Lady Throckmorton. Hannah rolled her lower lip between her teeth, studying the exquisite calligraphy. A London ball! And she would be going dressed as beautifully as a duchess. It was enough to bring a rueful twist to her lips.

“I trust that meets with—with your approval.”

Hannah looked up at the catch in his voice. It did, she supposed, because she didn’t have a reason to argue against it. What were all these clothes for, if not to go out and be seen in them? But the duke did not meet her eyes. His gaze was directed lower.

The pins holding the gown together in back must have slipped. The bodice, daring as it was to begin with, had slid down. The new corset gave Hannah a figure she hadn’t thought possible, and now it was on full display. And the duke’s eyes were fixed on her newly prominent bosom.