Maid for Scandal (5 page)

“Wait,” she said. “I must know—”

“Not now,” he said. “Lift your skirts. I must have you.”

“But—”

“Anna, you are driving me mad. Quickly, now.” His hands were insistent, his face flushed.

Desire for her was printed on those handsome features, yet she hesitated. She was beginning to understand that desire was not the same thing as love. And a kiss was not an answer.

“Don’t you think we ought to… wait?” she asked.

“Wait for what?” He took a handful of her dress and hauled it up.

“Well…” She took a deep breath and pushed her skirts back down. “Until after the wedding.”

“The wedding?” He looked at her blankly. “Oh. My congratulations on your upcoming nuptials. But surely you aren’t a—”

“
Our
wedding, Giles!” She pulled away and stared at him. “Don’t you love me, at least a little?”

His look of shock quickly gave way to disdain. “Love you? By god, you think that I’d marry you, just because I invited you into my bed? Stupid girl, to look so far above your station. You’re only a maid with a pretty face.”

Each word was a knife stabbing into her. Terrible, terrible, the knowledge of her own blindness and stupidity.

Giles had never recognized her. Did he even know that Miss Harcourt’s given name was Anna? He had no idea who she was. He thought her a servant!

Fury and mortification blazed through her. She leaped off the bed and grabbed the ewer of water on the nightstand.

“Why, you’re nothing but a rake!” she cried. “How could you? You… you’re contemptible!”

Wrapping both hands around the ewer, she flung the water over him. It made a satisfying splash, and an even better sight—Giles soaking wet and spluttering in his now-damp sheets.

“You’re sacked!” he yelled. “No pay—and don’t ever let me see your face again.”

As if he would even recognize it.

“Gladly.” Anna threw the ewer down on the carpet.

“Go—and send Martha to me at once.”

Without bothering to reply, Anna turned and stalked out of Giles’ bedroom. She made sure to slam the door loudly behind her.

It took a moment for her to realize she was shaking. What a dreadful affair. Anger and shame chased through her—hot, then icy, then hot again.. She could never let anyone know what had happened. And she must depart Wildering Hall at once.

Holding her head high, Anna found Mrs. Foutch in the blue parlor and informed her that she was leaving service immediately. She did not give any further details, but the housekeeper gave her a sharp look. Even if the woman suspected the truth of the matter, there was very little she could do about it.

“Very well,” Mrs. Foutch said, after a long pause. “I’m afraid I can’t give you a reference. Fetch your things and go.”

Anna did not argue, though had she been a maid in truth she would have been in desperate straits. She stumbled once on the narrow stairs to the servant’s quarters, barking her shin. The sharp pain was a welcome distraction from the ache swirling inside her. What a fool she had been, imagining that her dreams were reality. She’d built an intricate castle of clouds, thinking it was solid and sure, and the wind had blown it to tatters.

“Watch yourself!” It was Martha, going down the stairs with an armful of linens. “How clumsy you are, Anna.”

The girl’s hostility made sense, now that Anna could see the situation clearly. Giles trifled with the maids. It was reprehensible and most ungentlemanly, but she had the uneasy feeling that it was not uncommon, either. Clearly, Martha fancied herself in love with the master, though she knew better than to expect any offer of legitimacy. Likely Giles gave her a trinket or two—but if the worst happened, that was hardly enough to keep the girl.

“Martha, wait a moment.”

The red-haired maid scowled, but paused. “What is it? I’ve work to do.”

“I’m leaving. The master has asked for you to attend him in his chamber.”

The smile blossoming on Martha’s face made her look almost beautiful. “Has he now? I must go, directly.”

“Wait.” Anna set her hand on the other girl’s arm. “If… if you should ever find yourself in need of assistance, go to Caswell Manor and ask for Belinda. Tell her that Anna the maid sent you.”

Martha seemed well enough, now, but any number of troubles could arise for her. Not every maid could simply leave and resume her role as the daughter of gentility. Guilt scratched just under Anna’s skin.

“I don’t need any help from you,” Martha said. “Goodbye.” She pushed past without a backward glance.

Well, Anna had done her best. Her throat tight, she gathered up the few items she had borrowed from Belinda’s maid. She was glad to leave the narrow cot and cramped quarters under the eaves, the dreadfully early hours, the difficult work—but the relief was buried under a thick layer of humiliation. She had been so idiotically certain of herself. And ultimately, so very wrong. The knowledge was bitter in her mouth.

On her way out of the kitchen, Cook gave her a rueful smile and handed her small bundle of food.

“Good luck, dearie,” she said.

The simple kindness was nearly enough to unleash the torrent of tears Anna felt building behind her eyes.

“Thank you,” she managed, tucking the food into her bag.

Not yet—she would not cry yet. She must go by the stables and say farewell to Jonathan. Blinking fiercely, she left the kitchen gardens behind. The wall where they had kissed—no, she could not look at it. The dairy, the fields filled with clover.

Outside the stables, she paused to take a shaky breath. What would she tell him? Her mother was ill… yes. That would explain why she must go so quickly, and why she was overset.

She had no chance, however, to use her lie. When she asked for Jonathan, the other grooms shook their heads, saying he had not arrived yet. She could not pen him a note, so she asked only that they inform him she had left service. At least he would know she had gone.

There was no way to convey to him how highly she thought of him, after only a few days’ acquaintance—or how much she suspected she would miss him.

Sniffing, she turned her back on the Wildering’s estate and began the long walk to the Caswell’s. By the time she reached the main road, she could not contain her tears. She blinked fiercely, but hot moisture trickled down her cheeks. However would she explain to Belinda what had happened? She clutched her bundle tightly against her chest and, head bowed, kept on.

Hoof-beats made her glance up to see a rider approaching. She hurried to the side of the road and stood there, eyes fixed on the dusty grasses, waiting for the traveler to pass by.

They did not. The hoof-beats slowed, then stopped as the rider came to a halt beside her.

“Anna?”

She looked up in surprise, to see Jonathan regarding her.

“Oh. Hello, Jonathan.”

She could not say it was lovely to see him—though a part of her heart lightened with gladness to hear his voice again. But it was clear she had been crying, and she had never been a pretty weeper. Her cheeks and nose were certainly flushed, her eyes red-rimmed—not the best face to present to the world.

“Were you coming to find me?” There was a concerned note in his voice. In one fluid movement, he slid off his horse, holding the reins loosely in one hand.

“No—though I did look for you at the stables. I… I’ve left the Wildering’s employ.”

He regarded her closely. “And not happily, I see. What happened?”

“I’d rather not say.” There was no earthly way she could confess the magnitude of her folly to Jonathan. He would think so poorly of her, if he knew.

“Ah, Anna…”

He opened his arms, and somehow it was the most natural thing in the world for her to step into his embrace. She pressed her tear-stained face against his coat, smelling wool and horse and Jonathan. The feel of his arms around her was safety and sympathy—and it made her start crying again.

One hand smoothing her hair, Jonathan made sounds that she suspected he used to soothe restive horses. Nevertheless, she found herself comforted.

At last she had no more tears. She gave a final sniff and looked up at him. There was a curious expression in his eyes, a rueful tenderness that surprised her.

“Have you a handkerchief?” he asked.

When she shook her head, he pulled one from his waistcoat pocket and gave it to her. She dried her eyes, then turned away to blow her nose. After that, she couldn’t offer it back to him, so she stuffed his kerchief into her apron pocket.

“Well.” She gave him a smile that wobbled at the corners. “I shouldn’t keep you—you were headed for the stables, I presume?”

“The stables can wait. Where are you bound, Anna? Have you a place to go? Friends, family?”

“Yes.” She could tell him nothing more, despite the questioning look on his face.

He waited a moment, clearly expecting her to say more. Finally, when she did not, he cleared his throat. “Then, wherever you need to go, I will take you there.”

“I couldn’t ask you to!” Indeed, she could not imagine arriving home with one of the Wildering’s grooms as her escort.

“You don’t need to ask. I will help you, Anna.”

It was clear he was not going to let her continue walking alone down the road. “Very well. You may accompany me to Caswell Manor. I’ve… friends there who can give me further assistance.”

He gave her a close look. “You’ll continue in service, then? Is there a place for you there?”

“I believe so.” Not, however, in the servant’s quarters.

She would resume her role as a visiting friend. Her parents already thought her in residence with the Caswells. When she had first arrived, she and Belinda had hidden her luggage and passed it off as a short visit. Belinda had promised to intercept any correspondence, and the initial letter concerning her fortnight’s stay was concealed in the bottom of Belinda’s jewelry-box. Luckily they hadn’t simply tossed it away—it was time for her to arrive for her extended visit.

“I’ll take you to Caswell Manor.” He mounted again, as easily as he had dismounted, and held out his hand. “It will be faster this way. Come up—don’t be afraid.”

She took his hand. With his help, and by rather improperly lifting her skirts and stepping on his booted foot, she managed to get onto the horse. Jonathan settled her in front of him. He slipped one arm around her waist and pulled her gently back, until she was leaning against his broad chest.

“You’re an unusual maid, Anna,” he said.

“Oh, not at all. I’m quite the usual sort.” She was glad he could not see her face. It was much easier to lie when she could avoid looking in his eyes.

His laughter vibrated through her. “I don’t know of many maids who ride, or speak with the accent of the gentry.”

“I was fortunate in my education.”

“Or proposition men for kissing lessons.”

Heat blazed into her cheeks. “It was a special circumstance. Really, must you keep bringing it up?” She had learned her lesson, and a painful one it had been.

“Yes. You are unforgettable, Anna.” He dipped his head and spoke softly, his breath warming the side of her neck. “Might I come visit you at Caswell Manor?”

“No!” The word was out before she could think.

He pulled back, and the arm about her waist stiffened. “I had thought—well, never mind. My apologies if I’ve offended you.”

She wanted to turn and press her lips against his. She wanted to tell him that he had not been wrong. They shared a mutual admiration that, in any other circumstance, could easily have blossomed past friendship into something nearly as bright as the sun.

But she could not tell him, because it was all built on a lie. It was better to let him think she did not care for him, since any kind of future between them was simply impossible.

So she held her tongue, and the remainder of the ride to the Caswell’s estate passed in unhappy silence. Jonathan guided his mount up the long drive and around to the servant’s entrance. When she would have slid down, he held her tightly against him for a moment.

“Goodbye, sweet Anna.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, and she wanted to weep again.

He helped her dismount, and she could not meet his eyes. It was only when she had reached the door that she had enough control over her emotions to turn and look at him. He was every maid—and maiden’s—dream, with his strong features and keen eyes, his hair roughened by the wind. But she had learned not to trust her dreams.

“Farewell, Jonathan,” she said. “I will never forget you, either.”

Before he could say anything, she whirled and went into Caswell Manor, shutting the door firmly behind her.

“Anna!” Belinda jumped up from her window-seat, her fair curls bobbing, and rushed to enfold Anna in a lily-scented embrace. “I simply can’t accustom myself to seeing you dressed as a maid. Is it your half-day? Has Giles proposed yet? Oh, come sit and tell me everything.”

“There’s not much to tell. I’ve left the Wildering’s for good.”

Belinda’s blue eyes widened. “Heavens—and after all our planning, too. Were you found out?”