The Deceptive Lady Darby (Lost Ladies of London 2)

“A few times.” It was a lie. She should have paid more attention when Nicole performed the task. “Never with anyone watching me so closely.”

The desk chair scraped against the boards. Four long strides and he was at her side.

Lord Farleigh towered over her. “But you know to wash the marble hearth and dry it thoroughly with a linen cloth?”

Frustration turned to annoyance. “I can clean the fire without assistance. I do not need you to stand over me like an overbearing parent.”

Rose sucked in a breath. She hadn’t meant to sound so rude and disrespectful, but she’d grown tired of subservience. And how was she supposed to concentrate when fears for Nicole’s welfare was at the forefront of her mind? Squaring her hunched shoulders, she braced herself for a severe reprimand.

Instead, Lord Farleigh did something far worse. He squatted down at her side, those well-developed thigh muscles almost bursting the seams of his breeches. A whiff of spicy cologne filled her nostrils and journeyed south to tickle her stomach.

“I am merely trying to help,” he said in a soft drawl, “though I am aware that my tone can sound condescending at times. It is evident you’re used to others doing these tasks for you.” A sigh left his lips and breezed past her ear. “What I’m trying to say is that the transition will not be easy.”

Rose stared at her dirty hands. “No, it’s not.”

It wasn’t the menial jobs she found distressing. It wasn’t sleeping on a lumpy mattress or wearing the itchy dress that clung to her body in all the wrong places. It was the uncertainty of it all that gripped her around the throat and threatened to squeeze.

Was her father liable to appear at the door and drag her back to London?

What had happened to Nicole when the servants had woken to find mutiny afoot?

“I’m a little homesick,” she said turning to face him. Even though home had never been a pleasant place for her, she missed the familiarity that came with waking in one’s own bed.

“Is this your first time away?” He stared at her lips and chin.

To offer any explanation would only result in more lies. The intimacy of the moment, coupled with the hint of compassion in those green eyes, proved unnerving. After all, he was a viscount. A gentleman of his status should not be kneeling on the floor offering words of comfort to a maid.

“You must feel a certain sense of peace, my lord, knowing this will always be your home and that no one can take it away from you.” She didn’t expect an answer. By rights, he should insist she get on with her work.

“One foolish investment and I could lose everything.” He dragged his hand through his dark brown hair as his gaze dropped to her mouth once again. “A man must keep his wits if he has any hope of safeguarding his family’s future.”

Rose imagined the viscount was too intelligent to sink funds into a failing venture. But something kept him awake at night. The shadows beneath his lower lids were a testament to that. While he appeared physically capable of running a mile without stopping for breath, his countenance held a world-weary air.

What plagued his thoughts and haunted his dreams?

When left alone did he lay his head on his desk? Did he close his eyes and pray for salvation?

“Many a drunken sot has gambled away his fortune,” she eventually said, aware that she should do something other than stare. “You don’t strike me as a man with a weakness for either vice.”

Indeed, she doubted he did anything to excess.

“My father taught me to avoid things that corrupt the mind or taint one’s reputation.” Sadness swam in his eyes. “And now I must set an example for my children.”

It crossed her mind to ask about Mrs Booth, about his inability to keep a governess. But maids did not pry. And with her soft heart, she was bound to offer her services. Her fate lay elsewhere. When the week was up, she would make her way to London, find Lord Cunningham and hope he’d not taken another bride in her absence. Escaping her father’s grasp had to be the priority.

“And what a poor example I’m setting,” she said wondering how often he partook in intimate conversations with the maids. “Mrs Hibbet expects me upstairs, and I’ve not yet laid the fire.”

“Then I shall leave you to your work.”

“And do you promise not to interfere when I make a mess of things? After all, how’s a maid to learn if not from her own experiences.”

“A lady with your manners and education should not be sweeping fires.”

“You could always hire me as your paid companion.” He looked as though he needed someone to share his troubles, someone to share a drink with and discuss the events of the day.

“Perhaps if you decide to stay at Everleigh, I might consider your proposal.”

Rose couldn’t help but smile. “After the useless job I’ve done here, it might be the sensible option.”