Royal's Bride. Kat Martin

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      “I am looking for His Grace. Would you see if there is a convenient time I might have a word with him?”

      “I shall inquire, miss. If you will please follow me, you may await him in the Blue Drawing Room.”

      “Thank you.”

      He led her in to a once-elegant room off the entry. It had high, molded ceilings, robin’s-egg-blue walls that were in need of a coat of paint and heavy, dark blue velvet draperies. The Persian carpets, a deep royal blue in a paisley design accented with dark green and crimson, were worn but serviceable and immaculately clean.

      Her bedroom had also been clean, she reflected, a concern she wouldn’t have to address. She sat down on a blue velvet settee to await the duke’s presence, wondering if he would truly be as handsome as she recalled.

      Wondering if now that he realized she was little more than a servant, the duke would see her at all.

      She shifted on the sofa, watched the hands on the ormolu clock slowly turn. She glanced up as he walked into the drawing room and her breath hitched. The golden-haired duke was even more beautiful than the angel she recalled. Now that her vision was no longer blurred and her head not throbbing, she could see that he was stunningly good-looking.

      And even with his well-formed features and slanting dark gold eyebrows, there was no question of his masculinity. He wore it like the long scarlet cloak that had swirled around him when he had knelt beside her in the snow.

      She rose to her feet a little uncertainly and dropped into a curtsy. “Good morning, Your Grace.”

      He strode toward her, stopped just a few feet away. “Good morning, Miss Moran.” His eyes were as golden as his hair and as they skimmed over her, she thought she caught a glint of appreciation.

      “You appear to be recovering very well. How are you feeling?”

      “Much better, I am happy to say. Again, I thank you for your very timely rescue.”

      “I assure you it was my pleasure.” The glint was there again, as if there was a secret meaning to his words. She basked in it as his gaze ran over her even more thoroughly. And yet in just a few days, once he met the incredibly lovely creature he would marry, that glint would disappear.

      Lily lifted her chin. “I wished to speak to you, Your Grace, in regard to Mrs. Caulfield and your future betrothed, my cousin Jocelyn. The reason I traveled here ahead of time was to insure their visit would be comfortable. Both Mrs. Caulfield and my cousin have rather … specific needs. I am here to see those needs are met.”

      His eyebrows drew slightly together. “And your cousin and her mother didn’t believe my staff would be able to handle those needs?”

      She had angered him. She could see it in the set of his jaw. “Oh, it isn’t that—truly. Please, I didn’t mean any insult. It is merely that they are used to having things done in a certain fashion. If you would be kind enough to put a few members of your household at my disposal, I am sure I could have everything arranged before they arrive.”

      “You are Miss Caulfield’s cousin, is that correct—a member of the family?”

      “A distant cousin, yes. The Caulfields were kind enough to take me in after my parents died of the cholera.” She didn’t mention it was four years later and they were barely aware of her existence until her uncle sought them out and asked them for help. Still, she was extremely grateful. It was one of the reasons she worked so hard to please them.

      “So you were orphaned,” he said softly, and for an instant she felt the burn of tears. Even after all these years, her parents’ death remained a difficult subject.

      “I’m afraid so, yes.”

      His look seemed to gentle. “I see …”

      And to her humiliation, she thought that indeed he did see. That he realized she was merely a poor relation who lived by the Caulfields’ charity, that she was utterly dependent upon their goodwill. Still, it was far better than living on the street, or in an attic garret, as she had done before.

      “The servants won’t be a problem. You may have the use of whomever you wish. Let me know if you need anything else.”

      “Thank you, Your Grace.”

      He studied her a few moments more, assessing her in some way, then he turned and strode out of the drawing room. The instant he disappeared, Lily released the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. Her heart was clattering, beating a frantic tattoo.

      It was ridiculous. Things were exactly as they should be. The duke understood her lowly position and his interest was now very properly fixed on Jo.

      Ignoring the little pinch in her chest, Lily lifted her skirts and started across the drawing room. She had a great deal of work to do if she was going to be ready for the Caulfields’ arrival. She had almost made it to the door when a frail, silver-haired woman stepped through the open drawing-room door.

      “You must be Miss Moran.” The woman smiled, digging creases into her powdered cheeks. “I am Lady Tavistock. My nephew told me I would find you in here.”

      Lily sank into a curtsy. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

      “I arrived yesterday afternoon while you were asleep. I gather you had a rather nasty accident on the road.”

      “Yes, my lady.”

      “Dreadful thing. My nephew said your carriage was attacked by highwaymen and overturned, and that you suffered a head injury. I hope you are feeling better.”

      “Much better, thank you.”

      “Why don’t we sit down in front of the fire. The weather outside is dismal. A cup of tea should be just the thing.”

      She had so much to do before Jocelyn arrived. And yet there was no refusing the wishes of a countess. “That would be delightful, my lady.”

      They sat down on the sofa in front of the fire blazing in the hearth and a few minutes later the butler arrived with the tea cart. Tea was served. Casual conversation was made. Lily tried not to glance at the clock on the white marble mantel, but apparently she failed to hide the urgency she was feeling.

      “I can tell you are eager to begin your tasks.”

      Lily flushed and wished she had been more attentive. “It is only that I have a great deal to do before my cousins arrive.”

      “Are your cousins, then, difficult taskmasters?”

      She rarely thought of Matilda Caulfield as a cousin, though by her marriage to Henry she certainly was.

      “It is nothing like that. It is just that my cousin Jocelyn … depends on me. She trusts me to see to her needs, as I have done these past six years. I do not wish to fail her, or Mrs. Caulfield.”

      “I see. And exactly what did your cousin Jocelyn and her mother send you here to do?”

      More color rushed into her cheeks. Taking over the duke’s household and assigning tasks to his servants was hardly the proper thing. Still, it was СКАЧАТЬ