Regency Romance Omnibus 2018: Dominate Dukes & Tenacious Women

“She’s...” Audrey swallows hard. “She has nothing to worry about! I said...”

“We know. And I’ll hold you to that,” Agatha crowed. “Stick to your responsibilities. And stay out of the master’s bedchamber, unless you’re polishing the silver, or tidying the sheets. Keep your head down. Don’t mind Ana. And everything should go wonderfully.”

“Is there anything else I should know?” Audrey asked. Before Agatha could answer, a loud rapping echoed through the halls; the front door boomed with the sound, knuckles loud against the wood. Agatha sighed in irritation.

“Another late caller. And in this storm!” Agatha exclaimed. “Who is it?” she shouted, loud enough that even the door and the storm couldn’t obscure her cry.

“Open the door, Agatha,” slithered a shrill and snakelike voice into the hall. Startled, Audrey recoiled, her heart racing in her chest for fear of what may be waiting. Agatha recognized the voice, shaking her head.

“What business does the Duchess have in our halls tonight?” Agatha snarled.

“Normally I enjoy observing this bloody sense of ‘proper protocol’, Agatha, but I’m stuck in the rain and yer testing my patience, love,” the voice - clearly a man’s, husky and hoarse - growled through the door. “I’ll open the door meself if I have to.” Agatha grudgingly pulled the door open again, water splashing across Audrey’s face as she beheld a lengthy and ornate caravan, led by a trio of stunning snow-white horses. Paneled in white and silver, lanterns glowed softly on each corner; the cabin within looked nearly as big as the entirety of the coach Audrey had rode in on. Door swinging open, out stepped a woman in an elegant, expensive white gown; it glittered in the low glow of the lamps. The woman wrapped within cursed quietly as she staggered through the rain in her daggered heels, seeking refuge in the manse’s foyer. Audrey stifled a giggle as the beautiful heeled woman nearly makes the same mistake she had, her heels squeaking on the wet tiles as she struggled to balance herself.

“Presenting yer royalness, the Duchess Francine, and all that,” the woman’s surly and sleazy valet announces. A whisper of a man in a black suit with greasy black hair and skin pale as a ghost’s, his snakelike features bowed in sarcastic deference as the young woman made her presence known in the foyer, all glam and gala. Head held high, with hair of flowing blonde and eyes like sapphires, she carried an annoyed and haughty expression.

“What can we do for you this evening, Francine?” Agatha sighed, bringing contempt to the surface of the young woman in the fancy dress.

“You dare address me as such? Bryce hasn’t slapped any sense into you?” she sneered. Captivated by the woman, Audrey looked at her flowing dress and impeccable beauty with amazement... which inevitably drew the angry stare of the duchess. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“She’s the new maidservant,” Aunt Bette interjected, not taking any lip from the woman.

“And who are you to address me? You’re all fortunate I’ve a patience for Bryce’s antics, or else I’d have you made a fool of,” the duchess snarled. Audrey cast her glance away meekly, but the duchess hadn’t finished with the innocent young girl.

“You know what Bryce does with the maidservants, don’t you?” the duchess laughed haughtily. Fearful, Audrey glanced for help from Agatha, who proved herself as much a verbal presence as a physical one in protecting girls in her charge.

“Audrey is new here, and she’s not used to your attitude, duchess. You’ll have to phrase your question more appropriately,” Agatha sighed, irritated by the rude woman who called herself royalty.

“I’ll rephrase my question as a statement,” Francine seethed. “The Duke is an important man. He has no time to play games with maids and common street folk. Do you understand? Spend your nights in the maid’s chambers,” Francine scowled. “Now. Ladies. I have business to attend to. Where is Bryce?”

“He’s not here,” Agatha shrugged. “Lordly business, too important for us street folk. Certainly, you understand,” she added facetiously. Her face blushing and her expression livid, Francine huffed and spin out the door, her scummy valet following her with a clatter of the door.

“Lovely company you get around here,” Aunt Bette said jokingly.

“Poor poor Francine. Her rich husband, the Duke of Northshire, dies, and in her heartbreak she inherits his estate and his title. But one title’s never enough for a girl, is it,” Agatha facetiously lamented. “Such a sad tale.”

“Sad,” Aunt Bette echoed tersely.

“Her word has merit, though. Audrey,” Agatha nodded.

“R... right,” her voice wobbled. “Off limits. Off limits.” Her heart pounded hard in her chest, and she couldn’t truly deny her curiosity.

A man so off-limits, wanted by so many... what could he possibly be like?

Chapter 3

Audrey mentally checked off each of the tasks Agatha had assigned her. Her first day had gone exceptionally well, having woken invigorated with the smell of morning dew and the feel of fresh sunlight streaming through the windows. The maid’s quarters proved comfortable and spacious – more so even than her room at the cramped home she shared with her aunt and uncle. After Aunt Bette had disembarked for the trip back to London, work began quickly - and after a round of skeptical criticism from Ana, whose jealousy had begun to bleed freely, Agatha set her about cleaning the top floor of the impressive manor.

Thankfully, Audrey’s jobs had been quite easy. Few ventured as far as the fourth floor, and aside from polishing and sweeping for gathered dust, the halls needed little scrubbing. A grand trophy room held armor, weapons, antlers and spoils claimed from centuries of hunting England’s moors, and fighting her wars; the room appeared as if it hadn’t been touched in years, with layers of dust and cobwebs caking centuries-old shields and swords and glass display cases. Bookshelves carried thick tomes in the library, their spines so coated in dust one could scarcely make out the names; reading armchairs stuffed with goose-down would have been quite luxury years past, before dirt and wear caked the faded upholstery.

Audrey cleaned each room thoroughly and attentively; hours she’d spent, until hunger pangs began eating at her stomach. Dusting away the last table in the dust-choked and unused study, she heard Agatha’s booming voice cry up the stairwell towards her.

“Audrey! The cooks have prepared tea and food for us, come downstairs, love!” she called. So distracted by her work, it took Audrey a moment to parse the words; staggering out into the hall, she took her first breath of dust-free air in quite a few hours.

“I’ll be down in just a few moments! I have something to finish up here,” she replied.

“Hurry yourself, then! Tea’s going to get cold,” Agatha said with a smile. Audrey smiled and nodded, before hustling back down the narrow, faintly-lit hallway towards the last door at the end of the corridor. The door handle rattled, locked up tight; Audrey smirked, pulling a small hairpin from the apron across her stomach. Agatha had asked for Audrey to clean the entire fourth floor, yes?

With a few quick-fingered twists of the lock mechanism, the hairpin clicked quietly as it jostled the door unlocked. Taking a deep breath, canny young Audrey slowly pulled open the door to a room filled with even more dust than the last, cobwebs strung thick across the doorway. She took a breath and immediately coughed, expelling mildew-thick air from her lungs. White sheets, turned grey from years of dingy dirt buildup, laid across rows and rows of stacked furniture; tables, chairs stacked one on top of the other; cabinets full of dusty china porcelain. Audrey swallowed hard; she had a feeling she shouldn’t be in here, but the mystery of her employee intrigued her, and curiosity always did end up getting the better of the adventurous young maid.