Page 21 of An Innocent Maid for the Duke
He looked nonplussed. ‘You will, however, permit me to walk you, if not all the way, then at least to the end of your street.’
The firmness in his voice said he was not to be denied.
‘As you wish,’ she muttered. She’d find a way to be rid of him long before then. She knew the neighbourhood like the back of her hand, whereas he surely did not.
They walked some distance in silence and she kept waiting for him to tell her she was dismissed. Finally she could not stand it any longer. ‘What is it you wished to talk about?’
He gave her a look askance. ‘I have a request to make of you. Well, more of a proposition, I suppose.’
Her heart stilled. Did she really want this? She gripped her basket tight.
* * *
Jake could not figure out what was the matter with him. He was usually so articulate, so charming around women. With Rose, he kept stumbling over his words like an adolescent stumbling over feet too large for a gangly body. And heaven knew, every time he opened his mouth he seemed to put one of those very large feet right in it.
He also noticed that while Rose seemed willing to let him walk beside her, she deliberately kept her small basket over the arm closest to him. Effectively keeping him at a distance.
Well, perhaps that wasn’t such a surprise. He’d been so horrified to see her on her hands and knees that morning he’d been unable to think straight. A nap had sorted him out, somewhat. After all, finding her, knowing where she was, had enabled him to relax enough to actually close his eyes without being haunted by images—He cut the thought off. Nonsense.
He had been able to relax merely because loose ends drove him to distraction. Rose was no longer a loose end. That was all.
‘What is this...proposition?’ she asked, clearly irritated by his continuing silence.
‘It is a matter of some delicacy,’ he said, trying to frame what he wanted to say in a way she would not take amiss. He’d rehearsed it a couple of different ways in his mind, but as her responses to him in the past were always such a surprise they threw him off stride, he wasn’t quite sure how to put it.
‘Are you asking me to keep your confidence in this matter, Your Grace?’
There, that was what had intrigued him about her. Her quick understanding. Her sharpness of mind.
‘I am. More than one matter, actually, but we will take them one at a time.’
She nodded firmly. ‘I am no gossipmonger.’
He tried to squash his scepticism, given his intimate knowledge of the female gender, and was conscious of squaring his shoulders. ‘It is with regard to my current living arrangements.’
She looked at him sharply. ‘Go on.’
They turned on to Cheapside. He gritted his teeth. The idea that Rose walked these streets alone had his anger building again, as it had when he’d learned of her address from the housekeeper. The woman had frowned at him mightily when he’d asked for it. Worse yet, she’d more or less told him to leave the girl alone, as if he had the reputation for being some sort of lecherous beast who preyed on servant girls.
A look of the sort his father used to givehimwhen he was a lad had put her in her place. An incivility for which no doubt an apology would be required at some time in the future. The woman had told him all he needed to know without further demure.
‘To be honest the house has seemed empty since my—’ he forced the words past his lips ‘—since my father and brother died. It needs a feminine touch. My grandmother is rather elderly and cannot cope.’ He grimaced. ‘With anything really. She keeps mostly to her rooms.’ Only emerging to nag him about getting married. About the need for a legal grandchild to inherit. But that was not Rose’s business. That was his problem to solve in the future when he had mastered his ducal duties.
He plunged on, surprisingly anxious to have her answer. ‘I wanted to offer you the position.’
A small silence ensued. His throat tightened. He risked a peek at her face. Her lovely mouth was set in a thin straight line. ‘You want me to live in your house.’
‘It wouldn’t work any other way. You will be well paid, of course. Far more than your wage as a scullery maid.’
For a moment she looked torn, then her chin firmed. ‘I cannot.’
Cannot? He didn’t understand. ‘I will, of course, provide you with a suitable wardrobe. You do not have to worry about—’
‘This is my street. I bid you good day, Your Grace.’
And before he could say another word she took her heels and ran into the nearest alley.
Not her street.
