Page 54 of Dare to Love a Duke
Certainly, he’d stayed at a few inns whose accommodations had been less than luxurious—that room on the road to Harrowgate, with the leaky roof and permeable walls that permitted every stray breeze to pass through the chamber—but sleeping in a room designated for servants was a first.
Yet he needed this. The room, the time to sort through the maelstrom of his thoughts. The nearness to Lucia. Even to think of her calmed the storm within him. She was fire, yes, and his desire for her hadn’t cooled. She also possessed strength and certainty. All things seemed possible whenever she was close.
He sat up, carefully angling his body so he didn’t slam his head into the ceiling, and checked his pocket watch.
Nearly five. Time to go to work.
He shook his head at himself as he stood. Dukes didn’t work at establishments that catered to London’s sexual needs. And yet, here he was, adjusting the folds of his neckcloth and tugging on his waistcoat like a footman preparing for his first day on the job. Nervousness danced along his limbs—foolishness to feel it, and yet he wanted more than anything to do a good job, to please her. After one last adjustment of his garments and smoothing his hair, he headed downstairs.
His heart kicked when he found Lucia in the ballroom. How was it that the sight of her never failed to hit him with a rush of exhilaration?
With her back to him, she spoke to a group of masked women and men standing atop the stage. Tonight, she wore a striking gown of sapphire with short, full sleeves, appearing regal as any crown princess.
Christ God, but he could stare at her for hours.
She did not appear to notice that he had entered the chamber. He had the rare pleasure of watching her without her awareness.
“The first performance will begin at eleven,” she said in an efficient voice as she consulted a folio in her arms. “There are no clocks, so you’re responsible for getting yourself to your places on time. I trust you’ve had adequate time to rehearse.”
“Yes, madam,” everyone chorused.
“And everyone knows the order of scenes, correct?”
The performers nodded.
“One final note,” she said, her tone warmer, “and then I’ll leave you to complete final preparations and rest. Two of our strongest men will be in this chamber during the enactments. Should the unlikely happen and any of our guests attempt to join you onstage or assault you, Will and Arthur will remove them immediately. Your safety is guaranteed.”
“Thank you, madam,” a brunette said sincerely.
Lucia nodded before turning away, and her gaze fell on Tom standing behind her. Their eyes met—and awareness tightened through his muscles.
She approached him with a wry smile, but he felt the thrum of gratification as her appreciative gaze moved along his body. “Are you certain you want to do this?”
“As certain as the sun.”
“Then let us put you to work.”
She led Tom into the corridor, and he tried to subdue his response to her nearness. “You may be this operation’s owner,” she said as they stood in the hallway, “yet beneath this roof,I’min command. Everything that happens within these walls is my responsibility. I require everyone employed here to treat their duties with the same gravity.”
He bowed. “Rely on me, madam.”
She consulted a timepiece discretely tucked among the folds of her skirts. “As I said, at this hour, the staff usually takes a meal downstairs. There won’t be much time to eat when the doors open, so my advice is to have your supper now.”
“I hope you’ll join them.”And me.
“It’s one of the best parts of my day,” she said with a growing smile.
He gave a silent prayer of thanks to have her near him for a little while longer.
Together, they went downstairs and entered the servants’ hall. It was a long room outfitted with an equally long table, with benches on all sides. Several loaves of thick-crusted bread were arranged on wooden boards. Most of the staff already sat, plates, cups, and cutlery arrayed before them. Chatter quieted as he and Lucia stepped into the chamber. The male members of the staff jumped to their feet.
“Who’s this?” the cook asked as she stood holding a substantial pot.
“I’m the new hire,” Tom said. “O’Connell. Tom O’Connell.”
Everyone nodded and called out greetings. Thank God Tom had procured some clothes that didn’t shout Bond Street.
“What’s in the pot?” Tom asked.
