An Affair of Honor (Rebel Hearts 2)

Matilda stared at him in shock. “Please tell me you didn’t speak to the captain.”

“I didn’t, but you should. I had no idea things had become so bad for you. He will not like it.” He gestured to a nearby table and carried the tea tray there. “Drink and eat what you like.”

Matilda swallowed, just a little nervous of his sudden kindness, but eyed the tray. She was thirsty. “I don’t need it.”

The valet moved closer, eyes fixed on hers but reflecting only concern and kindness. “Drink the tea, Miss Winslow, or it goes to waste out the window. I know what you give up each day to the younger pair. My eyes are opening to what is happening belowstairs, and I believe you and I are of the same mind about the subject of how the servants’ hall is run. Shoddily, indeed. You have barely eaten this past week, and I cannot stand to do nothing about it.”

She had not thought anyone had noticed, but perhaps she wasn’t as circumspect as she hoped. “Very well,” she whispered, hoping the captain would not return and catch her making use of his drawing room like a proper lady. He would truly have a reason to punish her then.

She poured tea into one of the finest cups kept in the house with a tiny worry for the impropriety, added just a single spoon of sugar, and sipped the hot liquid slowly. The tea was a stronger-flavored cup than she was used to receiving in the servants’ hall, and it was wonderful. She was reminded of the comforts of her old home and how much she missed her old life.

“Cake too,” Dawson murmured as he picked up her dusting cloths and attended to the room in her place.

She gobbled the cake quickly, blushing at the hunger that had awakened in her. She set the cup aside carefully when she was done and hurried to him. “Thank you, but that is my duty.”

Dawson smiled broadly. “I’m starting to think it shouldn’t be for much longer.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

His smile was enigmatic as he turned away. “Just wait. I have a feeling things are going to change for the better for everyone ver

y soon.”

With that, he collected the tray and sauntered away, headed for the servants’ staircase.

Four

William approached Matilda quietly, ready to admit defeat and give up trying to avoid her. Everywhere he turned, he always seemed to find her watching him with those soft, unguarded eyes.

She was currently dusting the furniture and had paused to look down the staircase at a commotion in the hall. He peered over her shoulder too, eyes widening in surprise. His half sisters—Victoria, Audrey, and Evelyn—had returned to London and brought their grandfather with them. That his own father had tagged along boded ill for his day being a quiet one.

William had been dreading seeing the old man. “Do you think if I run they can be avoided?”

Matilda started as she’d done every time he’d spoken to her since he’d left his bed a week ago. Even the presence of other servants hadn’t eased her anxiety around him, and he was sorry for that. Did she think that every time he spoke he was about to seduce her or worse? He might yet if she kept up her ridiculous behavior.

She bit her lip and looked away. “Your chances of a clean escape are slim, Captain.”

“I fear you may be right.” William grimaced and then let his eyes linger on Matilda Winslow’s face. There was an air of dejection about her William had never noticed before. Not even when he’d been at death’s door had she appeared so bleak and cast down.

He’d been avoiding her on purpose and wanted the distance to increase this past week. However, the bold woman who’d climbed atop his sickbed and made certain his life was saved had withdrawn too far from him, and he didn’t particularly care for her current demeanor. “Why can’t they be more like you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You know what I mean.” He pointed down the stairs. “You are calming. They are not. They fuss about house, moving things.”

His sisters were exhausting, and they chatted incessantly. There was probably no rest for anyone when they were in the house, especially not for the servants.

“They are your sisters, and you should love them no matter what they do.” For a moment he thought she was about to say more on the subject, but then she dipped a wobbly curtsy. “I must get back to my work.”

She moved in the opposite direction, toward another room and escape from him.

Downstairs, other voices drowned out his family, and William peered back over the railing quickly as the butler greeted other callers. When he spotted the balding pate of Mr. Chudleigh’s head and the golden ringlets of his daughter, Miss Maria Chudleigh, his mouth grew dry. Chudleigh was a crony of his father’s and had the most ridiculous plan to see him wed to his only daughter. The pair hadn’t wasted any time in hounding him. Just a week out of his sickbed and they were at his door.

He jerked around as they were led into his ground floor parlor to wait. “Damn this nonsense,” he muttered, wondering how fast he could make an escape from the house.

Maria had come for him, aided by his father’s misguided notion that they would suit, determined to make a scene before his family, profess her love yet again, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to prevent the embarrassment. He’d tried to outrun her once before, but she was particularly devious and swift of foot.

“Is there something you need, Captain?” Mr. Dawson asked as he appeared from the direction of the servants’ stairs, brushing specks of lint from his naval uniform.