Geek Girls Don't Date Dukes (7 page)

of him. He could not show her his weakness, his shame.

“Get out.” His voice was low and threatening.

The floorboards creaked with her steps. “Don’t be

stupid, Avery. You’re bleeding. You look like you got

hit by a pickup truck.” Concern threaded her words,

lending them an almost tender sound despite the insult.

He closed his eyes, trying to get his rage under control.

Water trickled and dripped into the basin beside him.

“This is going to hurt. I’m sorry.”

The cloth had barely grazed his shoulder when he

gained his feet like a shot. Whirling, he glared at her.

“I said for you to leave me be. I’ve asked for no favors

from you. These chambers are mine, not yours. If you

are discovered here, you’ll be turned out into the street

immediately. Besides, I’ve no need of your assistance.”

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He backed toward the corner and widened his stance

subconsciously, staring at her through lowered brows.

She stood motionless for a while, the damp cloth still

hanging from her fingertips like a dead creature. He

mimicked her stillness, not letting his gaze leave her face.

Sighing, she let the cloth fall back into the basin with

a fleshy plop.

“Okay, fine. So you don’t need my help.” She crossed

her arms, and he struggled to focus on the throbbing pain

in his ribs rather than the way her breasts rounded with

the unintended frame. “I’ll just stay over here, quiet and

out of the way.”

She flounced over to the only chair in the room and

sat, keeping her blue eyes trained on his face.

They stood in silence, a pair of combatants unwilling

to give the other quarter. Had she been a man, Avery

would have been very tempted to give way to his baser

instincts and thoroughly thrash the blighter. But this was

Leah. Tall, beautiful, odd Leah, who insisted on helping

to tend the wounds of a nigh stranger. Despite his best

efforts, he could not stay angry with her. Even though

she’d invaded his private rooms, he could not ignore the

selfless intention behind her reasoning.

“You can stand there and stare at me all you want.

That’s fine with me, but it’s not going to stop that drip

of blood that’s about to hit your waistband.”

He looked down. Blast it, she was right. He dashed

the offending drip away, leaving a smear of blood to mat

the curls of hair on his abdomen.

“Come on. Don’t be such a hard ass. If you let me

help you clean up, it’ll go much faster, and we can both

get down to dinner before Mrs. Harper throws a hissy fit.”

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“Surely it is not time for the evening meal?” At her

nod, Avery cursed beneath his breath.

She shrugged, looking unconcerned. “They’ll get

over my being late. You were hurt.”

“You must go.”

She shook her head vehemently. “Nope, not while

you’re still bleeding.”

He gritted his teeth in irritation. “You silly wench, go

down to supper. If you’re discovered in a man’s cham-

bers, you’ll be ruined and cast out of the house. Smythe

and Mrs. Harper would never allow you to stay.”

Raising her brows, she crossed her arms. “Well, you’d

better hurry up then, because I’m not leaving this room

until your injuries are taken care of.”

Despite the prickle of unease across his throat, he

crossed the room to the basin again. Gripping the rag,

he wrung it out and placed it on his broken skin with

a hissing breath. Even though he desperately wanted to

squeeze his eyes shut, he would not give her the advan-

tage of losing his scrutiny.

“There. My wounds are being attended to. Now you

may leave.”

She laughed at him. “This is going to take forever. At

this rate I won’t get there in time for dessert, and then

you’ll be in trouble for helping me get this job.”

Blast it— she left him no choice. His reluctant decision

made, Avery laid the cloth back in the basin. “Be quick

about it then. You must attend the evening meal.”

He could not miss the self- satisfied gleam in her eyes

as she stood. “Good. Sit down on the bed there.”

He followed her instructions, his already sore muscles

tight with apprehension. “This is very improper.”

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“Oh stop. I’m a servant, so nobody can give a crap

about my reputation.”

“In this household, even the servants are held to an

impossible standard. And are you not a servant who has

designs on a duke?” He tossed the bitter question over

his shoulder and gave a hiss of pain when she probed at

his ribcage.

“Yeah. But still. This will only take a minute.” She

stood upright, frowning at his rapidly darkening side.

“I think you’ve got a broken rib. We’ll need to wrap

that up.”

He did not disagree.

Her touch was tender on his wounds, soft and gentle

as she cleansed the blood from his skin and bound

his aching sides. He found himself relaxing under her

ministrations, despite his better judgment. When he’d

been bandaged and cleansed to her satisfaction, she

cleared her throat.

“So you didn’t say. How did this happen?”

Her question hung in the air, heavy and dark in its

innocence. His teeth nearly drew blood from the inside

of his cheek. She couldn’t know about his past. She’d

hate him like the rest of the servants, and God help him,

he could not face that derision coming from her. She

was nearly a complete stranger to him, but she’d been so

kind. The dark world of the boxing mills and his past was

no place for a beautiful creature like her.

“Avery?”

He sighed.

“It is not a tale for lady’s ears, and it does not signify

in any case.”

“But…”

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He stopped her with a hand in the air. “It does not

signify. But have a care, miss.” He turned to her. “Men

are not always what they seem.”

i

Leah swallowed hard, trying not to let her confusion

show on her face. What could he mean by such a cryptic

warning?
Men
aren’t always what they seem?
Was Avery some kind of criminal or something? Had he been

injured while doing something illegal?

“Well,” she said, looking down at the basin of water to

avoid the seriousness of his hazel gaze, “I’ll remember that.”

With confusion stirring in her brain, she turned to

leave the room.

“Miss?”

Her heart fluttered with something odd when she

turned to look at his shirtless form again. Even his bruises

and bandages couldn’t detract from the muscled beauty

of his masculine form, but a half- naked Avery facing her

was truly a sight to behold. His arms and chest were lined

with muscle, nicely defined with a sprinkling of hair

across his chest and thickening in a line down his belly,

disappearing into his high- waisted breeches. But his eyes

were as serious as the grave.

“Think on what I’ve said.”

Leah nodded, trying to swallow, but her throat had

gone dry. “I will,” she rasped.

The door clicked shut behind her. His words dogged

her steps as she made her way from the attic down to the

servant’s hall. What the hell did he mean? Was he trying

to warn her away? But why? She didn’t even know him

that well, and she certainly wasn’t here after him.

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Leah laughed to herself as she skipped the last step to

hop on the landing. It made sense. Of course he’d been

concerned about propriety. Leah shook her head with a

smile and hustled for the servant’s hall. She didn’t regret

helping him at all, but she was grateful for the reminder.

This place and time was different than what she was used

to, and any tiny misstep on her part could have grave

consequences. She’d be more careful.

“I trust,” Mrs. Harper said when Leah entered the

room, “that this tardiness of yours is not a habit, Miss

Ramsey. No matter your relation to Cook, I shall expect

the courtesy of your prompt attendance at mealtimes and

whenever your services are required.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Leah said, hanging her head in what

she hoped was an accurate portrayal of a chastised, meek

parlor maid. “Henrietta was kind enough to show me the

conservatory, and I lost track of time. It won’t happen

again, ma’am.”

After bobbing an apologetic curtsy, Leah slid into the

chair beside Henrietta and smiled sweetly. The girl glared

at her, obviously piqued that her scheme hadn’t made

Leah completely miss the meal.

Cook gave Leah a tight nod as she plopped a bowl of

watery soup in front of her, along with a hunk of coarse

brown bread. “There, lassie. You’ll be needin’ your

strength now. You’ve much to learn and do tomorrow.”

Leah murmured a polite agreement as she tore off

a hunk of bread and chewed it slowly. Ugh. Dry and

tough. Scanning the rest of the table’s occupants, she

took note of how they ate their soup. Mrs. Harper took

tiny sips, perching on the very edge of her chair with her

spine straighter than a yardstick. Cook hunched over her

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bowl, her lips pursed as she poured in the broth. Various

footmen and a hawk- nosed man that Leah presumed was

the butler ate with typical male gusto, refined as it was

by the niceties of aping gentility. Henrietta and the rest

of the maids chatted between sips and giggled like the

young girls many of them were.

Satisfied that she wouldn’t stick out too much, Leah

soaked bites of bread in her soup and ate the bland broth

without complaining. This was way too important to

screw up.

Dinner was filling, if a little unsatisfying, Leah smiled

at the maid who took her empty bowl. The thin girl

didn’t smile back. Sliding her damp palms down her

skirt, Leah watched as the rest of the staff separated into

groups. Where would she fit in here? Best to hang back

and see.

The maids gathered in a corner around Henrietta,

baskets of mending at their feet. They turned their backs

to the room, eyeing Leah with mistrust from some and

complete dislike from others. Leah sighed. It wasn’t

going to be easy to become one of the girls, apparently.

The off- duty footmen laughed as they shuffled a deck

of cards. Leah stood, uncertainty holding her back. She

knew better than to ask them to deal her in. She prob-

ably wouldn’t know the game they were playing, and

she didn’t want the maids to think she was making a bid

for the only male attention to be had. That would make

things even worse, she was fairly sure.

So instead, she took a seat beside Cook and listened

to the woman wax eloquent on the ways to prepare a

leg of mutton. After an hour, she’d heard more than she

ever wanted to know about sheep butchery. When the

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lady finally fell quiet, a smile pinned firmly to her lips

at her own culinary genius, Leah saw her opening and

jumped for it.

“Cook, why didn’t Mr. Russell come to dinner this

evening?” Whoa. Not what she’d intended to say at

all, but her curiosity about the valet had momentarily

preempted her mission to snare the duke.

Cook’s smile slipped and she folded her hands primly

in her lap. “I’m sure I don’t know.”

“Doesn’t he normally eat with the rest of the staff?”

“Child, you’ll do well to keep clear of Mr. Russell.”

Confusion and offended loyalty for her new friend

bubbled in Leah’s chest. “But I thought you liked him.

He seems really nice. What do you mean, I should

avoid him?”

Cook stood and grabbed Leah by the hand, dragging

her into the darkened kitchen. Her voice was a sibilant

hiss in the dim room. “Mind your tone with me, miss.

I’ve put me own position on the line by begging for

yours, so you’ll keep a rein on your tongue or you’ll be

out on the street. Mr. Russell prefers to be alone, and

that’s all there is to it. Do not speak with him; do not

seek him out. I cannot be any plainer.”

Leah’s brow furrowed and she bit her lip at the

woman’s words, not liking a bit of it. There was a lot

more going on in this house than it seemed. Avery was

alone, but he seemed lonely too. Why wouldn’t anyone

associate with him? Weren’t valets kind of high up in the

ranks of domestic help?