Geek Girls Don't Date Dukes (5 page)

something?

Shaking off the concern, she tried to focus. Like it

or not, at the moment, she needed his help.
Nothing
to
it
but
to
do
it
. Opting for honesty, she launched straight into her idea.

“I know this doesn’t seem like it’s possible, but I’m

from the twenty- first century, from what you’d probably

call the colonies.”

She tucked a stray hair behind her ear, scanning his

features for disbelief. But, just her luck, Avery Russell

had a poker face to end all poker faces. He was like a

gorgeous statue with a slight bump in his nose. “It’s

magic,” she said, and then immediately wanted to smack

herself in the forehead. As if
that
would make it better.

“Of course.” His tone was dryer than South Texas

in July.

She rolled her eyes and stood, needing to put some

distance between them. “There’s no need to be sarcastic.

I wouldn’t have believed it either if it didn’t actually

happen to me— and my best friend, who’s now married

to the Earl of Dunnington, by the way.” She hoped the

name might mean something to him.

When he didn’t respond, her smile faltered, but she

held her pose. Fine, she’d lay it all out there on the

table— either he’d help her or not.

“So listen, here’s my problem. I can’t meet the duke

without some kind of introduction. You and I both

know I’ll need some help in order to meet him, let alone

convince him we belong together.” She sat back down

beside him and leaned close to lower her voice to its

most convincing level. “You’re my only hope, Avery

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Russell.” She hoped her sincerity was clear in her face.

There wasn’t much else she could think of to say.

The only clue that he wasn’t as composed as a sack

of concrete was the slight flaring of his nostrils. It was

almost like he smelled her perfume and liked it. Well,

he could sniff her all damn day if he’d just agree to help

her. And actually, there were a lot of things that could

be worse than staying close enough to Avery to let him

smell her perfume. The man really was magnetic, despite

his attitude. Her gaze flicked to his full lips before she

could stop it.

“It is madness, foolishness, and the worst sort of

nonsense.” He sighed and looked down at his hand, the

one she’d touched only moments before. “But it is not

for me to judge you. If your course is firmly set, then I

shall do my best to aid you.”

“Oh, Avery, thanks. You’re the best.” She flung her

arms around his neck. His muscles trembled, and the

slightly coarse fabric of his coat scratched at her cheek.

She breathed in shoe polish and strong soap. But Leah

didn’t care. She’d made her first friend, albeit a handsome

and reluctant one, and he was going to help her to her

true love. How much better could today get?

i

“And this is where you’ll sleep.”

The door swung open and Mrs. Harper gestured into

the dim attic room. Leah closed her eyes, made a wish,

and walked toward the open door to face her fate.

A haughty sniff came from her unwilling tour guide.

The housekeeper, Mrs. Harper, resembled a disap-

proving Q- tip more than anyone Leah had ever met. Her

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32

Gina Lamm

Geek Girls Don’t Date Dukes

tiny, stick- thin frame was crowned by a bushy cloud of

stark- white hair, but a duchess herself could be no more

stuck up than Mrs. Harper was.

The grand tour of the new underhousemaid had

culminated with this, the reveal of Leah’s temporary

living quarters. She tried to contain her dismay as she

looked around the tiny room, crammed with two beds

and other people’s belongings.

“You’ll share this bed with Henrietta,” Mrs. Harper

said. “Teresa and Sara sleep in the other. You’ll have

one drawer for your things.” She gestured to a simple

wooden bureau in the corner. “Your uniforms are

already inside. Dress— mind you take care— and be down

for supper at the hour.”

Mrs. Harper shut the door without another word,

leaving Leah alone in the rapidly darkening attic

room. She dropped the empty, beaten leather bag that

Avery had produced to lend authenticity to her role

as applicant for housemaid onto the floor beside her

and crossed to the single, tiny window. After pulling

it open, she ducked her head out to look at the city of

London below.

She bit her lip, excitement thrumming through her

veins. Carriages rolled down the cobbled streets, beau-

tiful horses tossing their heads as Londoners called greet-

ings to one another. Lamp boys scurried along, propping

small ladders against the posts and touching their lit wicks

to the lamp heads. A baker’s boy ran past, his arms loaded

with golden- brown loaves. It was picturesque, beautiful,

everything she’d imagined.

Her happy sigh echoed through the room. Who’d

have thought that she’d be living such a dream?

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“From the country, are you?”

Leah nearly swallowed her own tongue in shock at the

high- pitched voice behind her. She whirled and smiled.

“Hello. Who are you?”

The girl didn’t answer at first, just tilted her head

quizzically, causing her too- big mobcap to flop over one

eye. She shoved it back with a motion that was clearly of

longstanding habit.

“I’m Henrietta. You must be the new maid. Mrs.

Harper sent me up to help you get settled.” The girl gave

a small smile, revealing crooked front teeth.

Faint discomfort nestled at the back of Leah’s spine.

This girl looked only a few years older than Leah’s drama

students at Concord Magnet Elementary School. She

couldn’t be more than twelve, thirteen years old, and she

worked here? Reminding herself that child labor laws

were still a work in progress, Leah nodded.

“Nice to meet you, Henrietta. Or do you go by Henry?”

“What a daft question. I am a girl, so I am Henrietta.

They said you was a sight dim, and weren’t they right

and all.” The polite smile was gone, and in its place was

a look of dislike that was more suited to Mrs. Harper’s

drawn cheeks than Henrietta’s apple- shaped ones.

Well
well
well
, thought Leah as she drew herself up to her full height.
The
little
match
girl
is
more
of
a
little
spitfire
.

“Well, Henrietta, why don’t you show me around?”

Leah kept tight eye contact with the little demon, daring

her to challenge further.

Aha
, she thought as Henrietta looked away and

marched to the bureau.
Round
one
to
Ramsey.

“Your uniforms is here, caps and aprons there. Hair

tucked all beneath your cap. You’ll be scolded it’s not

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34

Gina Lamm

done to Mrs. Harper’s liking. Oh”— the girl turned—

“and one more thing.”

She might as well have a blinking neon sign on her

cute little forehead that read “I’m about to try to screw

you over.” Leah crossed her arms and waited.

“Mrs. Harper said to tell you that supper has been

delayed. You’re to remain here until quarter past the hour.”

Leah inwardly shook her head. Poor kid. She had

talent but no control. Overplaying a part was worse than

underplaying it. “Hold it right there.”

Henrietta had been about to turn the doorknob to

make her escape, but Leah’s “freeze or you’re dead meat”

voice had been fairly well honed over the years. The girl

turned slowly, a wary look in her wide brown eyes.

“If supper is delayed, then you can help me settle in.”

Leah plopped down on the bed and patted the faded

covers beside her. “Sit down with me.”

Henrietta’s look of repugnance would have been funny

if it wasn’t so damn depressing. Leah began wishing she’d

stuck closer to Avery. Clearly the female staff wouldn’t be

giving her as warm a welcome as he had.

Leah sighed and rubbed at the temple that was begin-

ning a steady throb. What a damn depressing thought.

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Five

It had been easier than Avery had thought to

convince Mrs. Dearborn, the cook, to pretend Leah

was her relation from the colonies. An older woman

with a softer heart than anyone else in the house, Cook

had been Avery’s only confidante. Despite their cordial

acquaintance, he’d expected much more of a fight from

her when he suggested the plan. But once Avery had

explained that Leah would be out on the street if she

couldn’t provide a reference, Cook had agreed to the

charade and bustled Leah away to meet Mrs. Harper and

apply for Fannie’s recently vacated position.

As Leah waved a cheerful farewell from the kitchen

doorway, an odd twinge took up residence in Avery’s

chest. Turning, he’d thumped at his ribs, trying to dislodge

the feeling as he’d exited the main house and walked out

toward the stables. It hadn’t worked. The buoyant, almost

excited sensation cast an unfamiliar lightness to his walk.

Her tale was difficult to believe, but she had appeared

sincere. Was it possible that she had come from nearly

two hundred years in the future? The gravel crunched

beneath his feet as he considered the notion.

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Gina Lamm

Geek Girls Don’t Date Dukes

When he was just a boy in the village of Chelmsford,

their neighbor, Mrs. Comstock, had dabbled in the Old

Ways. Though his clergyman father forbade him to speak

with the old woman, he knew from her that strange

things were possible. He’d seen her making potions and

curing folk in ways that no normal person could, so it

stood to reason that this stranger’s outlandish claim could

prove true.

His father was dead, and he was no longer a boy.

Would he heed the warnings he’d been given as a child,

or discover more about this beautiful stranger? Whether

she’d come from the future or no, she stirred an interest

within him that she should not. And he could not afford

any distractions.

Once he’d reached the stables and tossed the hounds

some scraps he’d gotten from Cook, he rounded to the

back of the buildings into the lean- to shed he used for

training. As he reached for the leather door strap, he

could have sworn that his lips were stretched oddly, in

what almost felt like a smile. Shaking his head, he tried

to clear his thoughts of yellow hair and summer- sky eyes

as he entered the shed. It was damn near impossible. She

haunted him like a wraith.

The scents of dust, hay, and sweat hung heavy in the

air, a reminder of the sole purpose of this room. Imagining

the way she’d felt for that brief moment pressed against

him, he methodically stripped to the waist. Streams of

late- afternoon light reached through gaps in the slat wall,

lying in wicked angles across the straw- dusted floor. Dust

motes floated in the air as Avery carefully hung his valet’s

waistcoat, shirt, and jacket on iron hooks by the door.

A rip, another, and then he wrapped thin linen strips

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around his knuckles, knotting them securely. Stretching

his ribcage with a heavy breath, Avery turned and faced

his opponent— a canvas bag filled with sand, hung with

thick ropes from a ceiling beam. Settling his weight

squarely on the balls of his feet, Avery’s fists tingling and ready, he pulled back for his first swing.

The ghost of an impish smile with twinkling eyes

winked at him, and he missed the bag completely.

Overbalanced, he staggered forward, nearly plowing

directly into his former employer’s tall form.

“Oy, Russell, you’ll never win another tourney with

a pitiful showing like that.”

Avery righted himself quickly, bringing his fist upward

in defense. “Prachett. What are you doing here?”

Thomas Prachett laughed, moving closer to Avery.

His heavy boots thudded on the straw- strewn floor. “I’ve

need of my best man, is all. I told you I hadn’t finished

with you.”

Avery circled, maintaining the distance between

them. His nerves fired with alarm as he stared down his

past in the form of a tall, thin, and cruel man. Prachett

had loaned him funds when he’d had nothing, but Avery

had paid sorely for that loan. Only the duke’s mercy

had rescued him from an early death in the boxing mills

at the hands of one of Prachett’s victims— or the man