Page 16 of Gambling with the Earl
That made sense. He was almost convinced. But an air of mystery still surrounded her. Surely no serving girl would stand so tall and speak with such refinement?
“Where else did you enquire?”
At this her eyes darted to the side and a faint flush brought colour to her sculpted cheeks, but she answered readily enough. “With the Duke of Answick.”
Again, the reply was reasonable. The duke lived some miles distant, but a healthy young woman could walk there and back in a matter of days.
“It is a blessing for us that you were turned away,” he said drily.
“Thank you, my lord.”
He should dismiss her, but this conversation was the most interesting one he’d had for several days now. With no company bar the cheerless Thomas and his uncle’s former servants, Guy was increasingly alone with his troubled thoughts. Thoughts which he desired respite from.
“And are you happy in your work?”
“Very happy, my lord.” Her voice was uneven, piquing his curiosity further.
“The other servants treat you well?”
“Extremely well,” she paused, seemingly searching for words. “Like family.”
This he could not believe. His uncle’s servants seemed to have been hand-picked for their morose ways. Or maybe it was the gloom of Rossfarne Castle which could quell the sparks of the most buoyant soul.
“I am pleased to hear it.” He let his arms fall to his sides, wincing at a jolt of pain from his injured wrist. Their conversation was at an end. He must release her back to her chores and her fellow servants, those who treated her like family.
Family. He had never known the joys of it, except briefly with his younger brother. But that happiness had quickly turned to grief and then to a hardened wretchedness from which he could never escape.
“I must let you return to your work,” he said stiffly.
Relief washed over her wide-set eyes. “Thank you, my lord.” She bobbed her head and turned to leave.
He didn’t want to let her go. “Just a moment,” he called.
She halted immediately. Did a faint tremor pass over her? “What is it?”
“I think you have forgotten something.” He walked with measured footsteps until he stood in front of the door. Kitty’s gaze was fixed on the floor, but she worried at her lowerlip, betraying her anxieties. Her hands fluttered to her apron pockets. “I am no expert, but I believe you will require a broom to sweep my solar.”
“Of course.” She looked up at him and almost smiled. He found he wanted to see her smile and watch those beautiful eyes light up with something other than determination. “I will fetch it now.”
“No need.” He didn’t want this innocent young woman further exposed to the darkness of his uncle’s tower room. “I shall recover the broom for you.”
Her pale hands fluttered upwards as if to stop him, but he marched from the chamber and up the narrow stairway before common sense could intervene and demand to know why he was extending the hand of chivalry to a serving wench.
Too fast. He had moved too quickly and underestimated the tight turns of the spiral staircase. His left side clenched with warning, and he gritted his teeth in frustration. Damnation. Could he not even ascend a flight of stairs now?
The broom was laying on the floor, just out of reach. He had no wish to punish himself further by leaning downwards, but he could draw it closer to him with his foot.
Alas, he again moved too sharply, and the handle of the broom flew towards him. He ducked to the side and a hot flash of pain traversed the length of his scar. Breathing hard, Guy leaned against the cold stone wall and waited for the agony to pass.
Footsteps behind him increased his discomfort. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this, especially not a young woman with entrancing eyes.
“Are you well, my lord?” Her voice was hesitant.
“Clearly not,” he shot back.
She had come to a halt just behind him, and he cursed her for it. Now they must cross paths on the impossibly small landing.Pain seared through him, blurring his vision and stealing his breath.
“Is there anything I can do?”
