The Formidable Earl (Diamonds in the Rough #6) - Sophie Barnes Page 0,16

allying herself with him, a man who represented self-importance, entitlement, and disdain for the common man? He was everything she’d come to despise these past few years, and yet here she was, trusting him with her greatest secrets.

“I must have gone mad,” she muttered when she finally found the courage to climb out from under the lovely warm blankets and face the brisk morning chill. Hugging herself, she fought the instinct to curl her toes into the floorboards. Instead, she hurried across to the chair where she’d placed her clothes. It might be the middle of May, but with the recent weather they’d been having, it felt more like late October.

After donning her stockings and fastening the front of her serviceable stays, Ida moved to the washstand. She fought a shiver and went to work, reminding herself that while she might lack accomplishments and wealth, there was no need for anyone to question her cleanliness. It was one of the things her mother had striven to teach her; no matter what, appearances mattered. It was up to the individual to make sure they made a good impression.

With this in mind, Ida opened her satchel and pulled out a day dress cut from sage green muslin. Although it was slightly crumpled, it would have to do. The one she’d worn the day before had gotten a tear in the side while she’d struggled with her assailant.

Like the rest of the dresses she owned, the one she’d selected was made with practicality in mind. Easy to put on over her head, it contained a ribbon running beneath the breast which could be tied to cinch the back together in order to create an elegant pleat. Pleased with her appearance when she stepped before the cheval glass a few minutes later, Ida gave herself a satisfied nod and went to explore the rest of the house.

Behind the other upstairs doors she’d passed last night were stairs leading up to the servants’ quarters, an extra bedroom, and a small sitting room which had no doubt been intended as a private retreat where Fielding’s mother could take her tea in a less formal setting. An ache bloomed within Ida’s heart. She’d known a similar room once. Her mother had loved sitting near the bright sunny window it had contained, working away on her knitting while Ida’s father read a book. Everything had been perfect before the war. Ida’s world had been filled with happiness and love.

How swiftly life could change.

With a shake of her head she chastised herself for her maudlin thoughts and headed downstairs. It was pointless reflecting on something that would remain lost forever.

Better to look ahead.

She opened a door and surveyed the parlor. It was small, but comfortable. So were the dining room and the library. The study had been done up in a feminine style and fitted with an elegant escritoire that she immediately fell in love with. It made sense that the earl had meant for his mother to live here. The house was clearly intended to house a woman, not a man, and whoever had furnished it had done so sparingly, albeit with an eye for good taste.

Ida’s stomach grumbled, alerting her to her increasing hunger. It was time to locate the kitchen and find some food. But after rummaging through all the cabinets and inspecting the larder, the only edible items she came up with were some stale biscuits.

At least there was tea.

Grabbing a jug, Ida stepped out into the small back courtyard where the water pump stood. Within ten minutes she had the water she needed, had filled a kettle, and lit the stove. Fifteen minutes later, she perched herself on a stool and sampled her efforts while glancing around, wondering what to do next. Fielding hadn’t been very precise when he’d departed last night. He’d just told her they’d speak tomorrow, so it could be late afternoon before he decided to rise, finished conversing with the secretary he likely employed, and remembered to check on her. By which time she would likely have starved to death.

She reached for one of the stale biscuits, puffed out a breath, and took a bite. It tasted all right, but the texture was awful – like trying to chew through a stack of paper. Nevertheless, she finished it off and ate two more. It was either that or feel like her stomach was being ripped open from within.

Once done, she returned to the hallway, taking another cup of tea with