Regency Romance Omnibus 2018: Dominate Dukes & Tenacious Women

Once again, he found something that caught my attention. “How well?” I asked. I was curious, but not yet convinced.

He smiled. It felt a little bit like the smile a lion would give to a zebra. “A thousand to apply. Another five if you get the job. Twenty more on top of that if you find what we’re looking for.”

It was tempting. Applying alone would keep the bills paid up for a few months. Getting the job would let us keep the house, for a while at least. Plus, there was whatever I earned for the work itself. And if I found something... yes it was tempting.

“I’ll apply. That’s all I’ll promise.”

George smiled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick stack of twenty-dollar bills, bound in a paper band. “It’s all there. Get the job, call me, and there’s another five for you. He handed me a business card; there was only a phone number on it.

...

I felt the usual excitement of starting a new job, except this time I had a $5000 bonus to look forward to. There was paperwork to sign and forms to fill out, and I made my way through it all with a sort of bittersweet detachment. I didn’t like lying to people, but I didn’t like seeing my mother cry, either.

They didn’t waste any time, either. I was introduced to the housekeeper, Mrs. Cooper- who was apparently also my supervisor, and given a brief tour of the home. The tour took ages- even the living room was larger than my entire house- and ended in the laundry room. I noticed that the only room I hadn’t seen was Mr. Miller’s. I filed that away, but I didn’t feel it would be appropriate to ask so soon.

“You’ll need a uniform,” she said, casually rummaging through a small rack of similarly-colored clothing. She eyed me carefully, then pulled out a single outfit. “This will work fine, until you can be fitted for more that is.”

I was relieved. I was afraid that it would be some unnecessarily revealing French maid-style outfit, but it was a surprisingly conservative black dress with a white apron and matching fringe.

Mrs. Cooper seemed to know what I was thinking. She laughed softly. “You were expecting something slutty, weren’t you?” she asked.

I blushed. “Maybe. I didn’t really know what to expect,” I admitted sheepishly.

“They always think that, and they’re always surprised. But I suppose there’s a lot of surprises in this household,” she added enigmatically.

“What sort of surprises?”

“Never you mind,” she said, waving the question away with her hand. She rattled off the list of rooms and areas I would be responsible for maintaining, as well as other tasks that I would be assigned. It didn’t seem very difficult, if only a little bit tedious. And with little more than that brief orientation, I was left to my own devices.

In the days and weeks that followed, I began to look forward to coming into work- something I hadn’t really experienced before. The household seemed to have its own rich energy, which ebbed and flowed depending on who was around. Mrs. Cooper kept the house running in a tight, rigid order. Everyone had their place in it, and everyone was doing exactly as was expected of them. When she was gone and Mr. Broadstreet was directly overseeing the staff, things tended to get a little more relaxed. He turned out to be a very funny man; he reminded me of my father in some small way.

And then there was Tyler; he was Mr. Westin’s personal assistant. He was young, witty, and perhaps just a little bit too ambitious for his own good. There were others that filled out the rich tapestry that quickly became my second home. And it was because of the unusually generous pay that I earned in the second home that I w

as able to afford the first. That, and the amount that George had already paid.

I had started to resent George for what he was trying to do; for the position he had tried to put me in. I supposed that I was as complicit as he was, seeing as how I had taken the money willingly, but I started to dread his frequent calls and ignore his email messages. I felt like a hypocrite, especially since I knew I could still use the money. I wasn’t out of the woods yet, financially speaking, but I didn’t really desire to help him other than that.

Over time, he became more insistent. More desperate. The bounty increased by half. The temptation was there, but I had nothing to offer all the same.

The one man that I hadn’t yet met was Lucius Miller himself. Everyone spoke highly of him; his staff seemed to nearly love him, or at least merely admire him. He began to take on a nearly-mythological status in my mind, so much so that I was unexpectedly nervous when I learned that I would finally meet him.

After an extended time away- somewhere overseas was all I knew- Mr. Miller was due back home. The rest of the staff was busy with their various tasks, each preparing for his arrival in their own way, leaving me to be the one to greet him.

I waited by the door anxiously. I smoothed by dress for the thousandths time and checked my mascara in the mirror once again. I practiced my greeting over and over again until I was certain I would perform it flawlessly. Finally, I heard a car arrive. And then, footsteps.

The driver opened the door and held it open. After that, Mr. Miller entered.

That description doesn’t really do him justice. Mr. Miller didn’t just enter the room- he filled it with his presence. The pictures that I had seen throughout the home might have captured his image, but they failed to capture his nature. He was tall and breathtakingly handsome. His eyes were deep and piercing, and they blazed with his fierce intelligence. Everything about him, from his confident walk to his undeniably powerful aura, screamed power.

“Good morn... morning, Mr. Miller,” I stuttered. I cursed inwardly, hoping that he hadn’t noticed. I added a quick curtsy as an afterthought. “Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes, should you wish it.” I wasn’t accustomed to speaking so formally; I hadn’t even planned on it. But Mr. Miller had a certain effect on me. Suddenly, I understood why his staff spoke of him n the way they did.

He looked at me. Actually, he looked deep into me, even through me. He seemed to be studying me. “Who are you?” he asked finally.

“Emma Kerry, sir,” I replied. “I’m new.”

“Where’s Stefanie?”

“She left, sir.” That was the extent of what I knew of her or her situation. I knew she had left, and I knew that her departure was both sudden and unexpected, which was part of the reason why I was hired so easily.