Page 38 of An Innocent Maid for the Duke
Her heart sank. He was a clever man. He was going to remember. And then what?
The Duke’s arrival triggered a great deal more rushing forward and curtsying by Lady Spear and various other women, while the men bowed their greetings. Outwardly, the Duke seemed to take it all in his stride, but Rose saw the shadows in his eyes and the faint lines of strain around his mouth.
She wanted to go to him to offer her support, but how could she? She was merely his grandmother’s companion. Which reminded her, she was neglecting her duty. Rose tucked the shawl she was holding around the Dowager Duchess’s shoulders. ‘In case you feel a draught,’ she murmured.
‘Such a kind, thoughtful girl you are,’ Her Grace said with a smile. ‘I am very fortunate to have found you.’ She turned to the woman at her side. ‘Finally, I have found a companion worthy of her hire.’
The other lady’s glance skimmed over Rose. ‘Who is her family?’
Rose held her breath.
‘Distant relatives of my son’s wife,’ the old lady said.
A gasp almost escaped Rose’s lips. That was an out-and-out bouncer. She opened her mouth to deny it, then closed it again. What would it serve? She would only embarrass the old lady by revealing the lie.
She inched her chair back a little farther into the shadows of the corner.
While Her Grace exchanged gossip with her companions, Rose sat as still as possible, her hands folded neatly in her lap, and tried to disappear into the background. Yet over and over her gaze was drawn to the Duke holding court with a group of young ladies. Her heart squeezed painfully. She forced herself to look away, yet somehow she could not stop herself from being aware of his every movement, every expression on his face, no matter how brief.
He wasn’t happy.
Also, though his gaze never strayed her way once, she had the oddest feeling she had his undivided attention. But it wasn’t possible. Not for a moment.
A footman arrived with a dish of bohea for Her Grace, added cream and sugar, according to the old lady’s likes, and placed it in front of her. By the time he had served Her Grace, the footman, clearly aware of her lowly status, had moved off, though no doubt he would come back around when everyone else was served.
Indeed. His next stop was the Duke, whose expression was now a picture of grim dissatisfaction. Another footman arrived with fancy little cakes and Rose filled a plate for her employer who was deep in conversation. She placed the plate at Her Grace’s elbow and retired to her seat.
A moment later, the footman returned with a cup of tea for her. Surprised, she stared at him. His face was bland, as was the face of the footman behind him waiting to offer her a plate of cakes.
Something made her glance in the direction of the Duke and for a moment their gazes met. With a slight nod of satisfaction, he turned to speak to the lady at his side and Rose wondered if she had imagined their exchange of glances, so attentive did he seem to be to the lovely young lady.
She glanced at the clock. A mere twenty minutes had passed. Her Grace had promised they would not stay long and wondered how she could possibly manage with a plate of cakes in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. Fortunately, a fair-haired gentleman standing nearby seemed to realise her dilemma. He came over with a smile and bowed. ‘I fear we have not been introduced. I’m Faxford—Spear’s eldest. Perhaps I may be of assistance.’ He signalled to a footman. ‘Fetch a table, would you, John?’
The footman scurried off, returning a few moments later with a piecrust table, which he set within arm’s reach of her chair.
‘Sorry about that. Stupid fellow should have seen you needed somewhere to set your cup down,’ the young man said, taking her plate and setting it down.
She smiled her gratitude.
Her Grace turned around. ‘Faxford, Miss Nightingale is my companion and you will cease your flirting immediately.’
‘Miss Nightingale,’ Faxford said with a cheeky grin and a bow. ‘A pleasure to meet you. I knew I’d winkle an introduction eventually.’
Heat flooded Rose’s face.
* * *
Jake cursed under his breath at the sight of Faxford hovering over an embarrassed Rose. He hadn’t asked the footman to provide her with a cup of tea in order to give the blasted fellow an opportunity to show off his gentlemanly manners.
He shouldn’t have done it at all. Servants gossiped.
He resisted the urge to join his grandmother and give Faxford a set down. A kindly employer ensuring his mother’s companion got a cup of tea was understandable, just. The same employer acting like a jealous fool would be quite another.
And now she was smiling at the fellow, albeit shyly. He clenched his jaw so hard, his back teeth ached. He turned away, only to see a matron with her marriageable daughter in tow striding in his direction.
Avoiding catching the woman’s eye, he sauntered to his grandmother’s side and bowed to the ladies. ‘You will let me know when you are ready to leave, Your Grace?’
His grandmother hid her surprise. ‘I will, dear boy. Thank you.’ She turned back to the lady with whom she was conversing.
