Geek Girls Don't Date Dukes (13 page)

how much worse things could be if he were to cast his

lot with her. His presence caused more problems than

it corrected, and poor Miss. Ramsey had more than

enough trouble of her own.

Avery sighed regretfully as he left the now- empty

table. He should know by now that nothing ever came

of wishing things different. He had his lot, and now Miss

Ramsey had hers. They would both manage as they

could and leave the rest to the whims of Fate.

No matter how his heart ached with every pain she

was forced to endure.

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i

The rest of the day passed in a blur of normal duties

and preparation for the dowager’s rout at Tunstall

Place across the square. With the large crowd that was

expected, Avery would serve as footman with the others

from His Grace’s employ, and even Miss Ramsey was

expected to assist. Cornering her to ensure her proper

service was becoming more troublesome than he’d

expected, but he persevered through the afternoon.

Until he was summoned by Cook.

“Mr. Russell,” the old woman hissed as he made his

way through the kitchens with a pile of freshly pressed

cravats. “Meet me in the larder.”

He nodded subtly and went on his way. He knew

without her speaking what the summons meant. It was a

play that they’d enacted many, many times before.

Once the cravats were put into their proper place,

Avery descended the stairs again, winding around the

corner of the kitchen to duck into the larder, unseen.

Cook waited for him there, her sausage- curls wispy and

haphazard from the heat of the kitchens, her cheeks

flushed and eyes bright.

“The apothecary’s boy came this morning.” A small

brown bottle was produced from Cook’s apron pocket.

“He said to thank you for your custom. I gave him your

coin for it.”

Avery took the bottle with a grateful nod. “I thank

you, Mrs. Dearborn. My aunt sorely needs this. Her

illness is getting worse.”

Cook sniffed and dashed away a tear with the corner

of her apron. “Millie was always a sweet girl. It’s one

of my greatest regrets that she took ill so sudden. She

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could have made a cook in some great house, for an earl

or even a duke after my own time.” She looked into

Avery’s face, sincerity thick in her words. “She was the

best kitchen maid I ever had, and that’s the honest truth.

You tell her Mrs. Dearborn sends her love, and you take

care of her, boy.”

Avery gripped the bottle tightly, bowing deeply.

“You may be assured of that. My mother would have

wished for me to care for her youngest sister, and I’ve no

intention of shirking that duty.”

Cook straightened her apron and patted her curls.

“Now, I’ve a goose to see to. I take it that you’ll be off

to St. Giles this afternoon?”

Hesitation sprang to his mind. He’d not yet spoken to

Miss Ramsey, and it might be impossible to do so before

the dowager’s rout if he spent the evening away. But

what choice did he have? His aunt could not do without

this medicine. He nodded.

“I’ll inform Smythe that you were called away.” Cook

shooed him. “Now, be off with you. I’ve a basket made

up for Millie. It’s by the door.”

“You have my thanks, Mrs. Dearborn.”

She left him in the larder with the bottle of medi-

cine in his hand. Lifting the bottle to catch the beam

of sunlight streaming through the crack in the larder

door, he watched as the milky medicine bent the light,

diffusing it through clouds of liquid. Strange that such

a small amount of medicine could cost so much. And

strange that such an odd woman as Miss Leah Ramsey

had upset his normal balance.

Making up his mind, he shoved the bottle into his

waistcoat pocket and headed up the back stairs to find

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Miss Ramsey. He couldn’t leave her to face the dowager

without warning.

But he must be quiet about it. If anyone were to

see him…

No. He’d not dwell on that.

Rounding the corner of the landing, he waited for

Henrietta and Sarah to pass by.

“She won’t last out the week,” Henrietta’s snide

remark caught his ear. “Mrs. Harper should never have

hired her on. I could have taken Fannie’s position, and

that’s the truth. This girl cannot possibly do the job.”

“What can Mrs. Harper be thinking, allowing her to

serve at the dowager’s rout?” Sarah followed Henrietta,

the coal scuttle banging softly against the older maid’s

skirts. Avery stood aside and allowed them to pass. They

did not acknowledge his presence at all. It was as if he

was simply a stick of furniture. Don’t trip on it, mind

you, but certainly don’t bother making conversation

with it.

The cut had long ago ceased to bother him.

Continuing on his way, Avery mounted the stairs

slowly so as to hear Henrietta’s reply.

“I am glad that she shall serve. The stupid girl will anger

the dowager, we’ll make sure of that. This afternoon I am

to instruct her how to go on. What a job I shall make of

it!” Henrietta’s giggles echoed in the stairwell.

Avery’s stomach dropped. Damn and blast. Redoubling

his speed, he mounted the stairs two at a time. He must

keep Henrietta from ruining Miss Ramsey’s chances of

succeeding on the morrow. It really was too bad that

he could think of but one way to keep her from her

sabotaged lessons.

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i

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to come with you?”

Miss Ramsey’s voice floated over his shoulder as he

led her through streets. They’d left the fine parts of the

West End many minutes ago and were now nearing

St. Giles.

“There was no choice,” he said patiently, holding an arm

out to stop her from crossing in front of a hack. “The dowa-

ger’s rout is tomorrow evening, and if you’re to know how

to go on, I must instruct you. Do not worry. Mrs. Harper

has been told you’ve been sent on an errand for Cook.”

They continued across the street, and Avery tried not to

notice the growing concern on Miss Ramsey’s face as she

took in their surroundings. The fine homes had given way

to crowded hovels, filth and garbage littering the streets.

The warmth of Miss Ramsey’s body emanated into him as

she pressed close to his side. He repressed his desire at her proximity, though it was a damned difficult thing to do.

“Mrs. Harper said she’d have somebody tell me what

to do. God, what a stink. Where did you say we were

going again?” Miss Ramsey’s gloved hand pressed over

her mouth and nose, and her forehead wrinkled in

distaste. How strange that such a repugnant expression

could look so lovely.

“We are going to my aunt. She is ill.” He stopped to

allow a tradesman’s cart to pass before continuing. “But as

for the rout, Mrs. Harper intended for Henrietta to show

you how to go on. Henrietta wanted Fannie’s position for

herself. She made it quite well known that she’d be most

happy if the dowager found you unsatisfactory.” He bit

back the part about prison. No reason to frighten the girl.

Their footsteps squished through the muddy streets

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as they entered St. Giles. To distract her from the wors-

ening conditions in the streets, he began reciting a litany

of advice for the morrow.

“The dowager is His Grace’s mother. You will need

to be most careful while in her presence. Mind how you

go there.” He steered her away from a pile of filth in the

street. “She does not tolerate mistakes from her servants.

You’ve one chance to impress her, and once lost, you

shall never have another.”

“So, no pressure,” Miss Ramsey said dryly, tucking an

errant blond lock behind her ear. “Not only is my future

mother- in- law a former duchess, she’s also a terrifying

dragon lady. Good thing I brushed up on my dragon-

slaying etiquette.”

She fell silent, and Avery let her take in the scene of

the square.

It was familiar to him. After all, once his mother had

passed on, he and his father had come to live here, in one

of the shanties by the church. The foul odors, the calling

curses loud in the air, the crowded conditions were all

as native to him as breathing. He turned, and his throat

closed at the shock on Miss Ramsey’s face.

“Your sick aunt doesn’t live
here
, does she?” Her

words were thick with horror.

An odd mixture of shame and offended pride filled

him. “It’s not such a bad place. There’s a roof over her

and enough food to fill her belly. If I had the means, she

would make her home in a more comfortable situation.”

She turned to him, biting her lip before speaking.

“Avery, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

He dismissed her apology with a wave. “No matter.”

“You used to live here, didn’t you?”

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Her insight nearly felled him. He drew himself up

higher. “Yes, I did.”

Her small hand curled around his arm. “No wonder

you’re so tough. You had to be, growing up here.”

He cast a glance over to her. She was looking into his

face, without pity, without any sign of condescension.

She simply stated fact, but there was a light behind her

eyes, one that made him wonder if she esteemed him for

overcoming his former hardships.

Though he longed to reach out, bathe himself in that

light, he cleared his throat and continued. “Follow me,

if you please.”

Despite his longing at having her so near, he made

sure to remain as close as her shadow as they wound their

way through St. Giles toward his aunt’s one- room hovel.

Guiding her toward the next corner, he pulled down his

hat and prayed as he passed The Wolf and Dove public

house that no one would notice him. The first time he’d

gone to a mill, which had been against his will, was at the

insistence of the proprietor, Benedict Turpin. He’d won

half a crown, as promised, but had made the acquain-

tance of the Thomas Prachett in the bargain.

“Quickly now,” he said in a low voice to Miss

Ramsey, hustling her past the door.

“Russell, as I live and breathe,” a cackle came from

the door of the pub. The man leaning against the door

spat into the street, then smiled with a mouthful of

rotten teeth at Avery. It was Turpin, of course. One of

Prachett’s men. The one who’d introduced them.

Avery’s stomach, having changed into a sack of lead,

plummeted.

Then again, luck never had been much on his side.

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Eleven

“Fancy meeting you here, you old devil.” The man’s

accent was thick, making it hard to understand him.

Leah turned toward the voice, curiosity momentarily

overtaking the nerves that had been ruling her brain. She’d

been to some scary places in her day. Hell, once she’d

had an overnight layover in Detroit. But even that hadn’t

prepared her for the harsh reality of the London slums.

Avery’s shoulders, lined with tension before, tight-

ened even further as he turned to face the one who’d

addressed him.

“Turpin,” he nodded coolly. “No time to waste I’m

afraid. I’ve an appointment.”

The man stood half a foot taller than Avery, his

brownish- white shirt splattered with stains across the

front. His jacket was threadbare, the cheap fabric

thinning in many places. “Come in for a pint, my lad,

and tell us about the fine house you serve in. Fancy

a bruiser like you polishing buttons and wiping a

lordship’s arse!” He tossed back his head and laughed,

and Leah turned her head away quickly from the sight

and smell of his open mouth. Ugh, she should have

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brought a sack of toothbrushes with her through that

damn mirror.

“Another time.” Avery turned on his heel and Leah

stumbled in shock as he gripped her arm to steer her forward.

“At the Houndstooth tourney? You’ll be there, won’t

you, lad?”

Avery didn’t slow, apparently pretending not to hear

the question.

Leah moved on her toes, driven by Avery’s strong but

gentle grip.

Shut
up,
she inwardly hissed to her fluttering heart.

Anyone would think she’d been kissed passionately at the