than working for you,” she hissed. “I’d whore my way through the slums before I’d let you control me.”
I sighed, rubbing my forehead where a headache was beginning to throb. As much as I would love to banter with the woman, she needed to get warm and dry, and I needed to return to my guests. “Ginny, don’t be…” She was out the door before I could reach her. “Damnation.”
I bolted after the frustrating woman, but she was already on the front stoop, Alfred watching her with wide, curious eyes. The door slammed shut behind her, rattling the paintings on the wall. Seeing me, Alfred darted forward and opened the door.
“My lord, will you be needing assistance? An…umbrella perhaps?”
“No.” I stepped outside and immediately regretted it. The sleet had thickened, pattering against my jacket, soaking my hair. “Just great.”
I moved down the steps, searching the dark street. The rational part of me said to let her go…such a stubborn wench would only cause problems. But the irrational part…the irrational part wanted me to throw her over my shoulder and carry her upstairs. “Bleedin’ wonderful.”
I spotted her small shadow dart across the street, headed toward a footpath. “Ginny!”
She didn’t pause. If anything, she hurried her steps. Truth was I hadn’t expected her to bolt. I’d assumed she would demurely accept the job like any normal being in her position would. Yes, she would have been embarrassed, but she would know a prime position when she heard one. Apparently, I’d underestimated her.
I ran across the street. “Slow down, Ginny. Don’t be a fool!”
She spun around to face me, her wet hair sending out a shower of drops around her pretty face. “A fool, is it? With such honeyed words how can I possibly decline your offer?”
I tried not to sneer, but feared I failed. “Is that what this is about…you want me to paint a romantic picture? You want words of love?”
“Of course not, however basic respect would be appreciated. But you don’t respect your mistress, do you? And I highly doubt you respect your servants.”
“You are going inside.” Ignoring her comments, I grasped onto her upper arms, holding her captive.
She struggled, slamming her delicate fists against my chest. “Let me go!”
“You have no choice but to return with me.”
She tore away, fists raised. “I hate you!”
I tried to reach for her, but she stumbled, wavering. Hell, she was going to faint. I caught her wrists and jerked her close, clasping her hands behind her back. “I know.”
She was utterly mad. Stubborn. Inappropriate. For some reason, I couldn’t let her go.
Ignoring her curse words, I scooped the frustrating woman up into my arms and carried her back toward my house, praying my brother had kept the guests entertained in the dining room.
Chapter 6
Ginny
“He wants us to take care of a maid like she’s some high and mighty lady? Has he lost his bleedin’ mind?”
The unfamiliar voice entered my muddled brain, drawing me from a heavy slumber. The clatter of dishes, scent of…bread? Soup? I spread my fingers across the soft, soft linen. It felt as if I slept on a cloud that smelled of lavender. Softer than any material I’d ever owned. I rested on my belly on a bed. An expensive bed. Somewhere…clean. I could smell the scent of beeswax and starch and lemon that permeated the room. Where was I?
A fire burned brightly across the room, wavering in and out of focus. Everything was warm. So very warm. So very comfortable.
“I’d say,” another woman replied. “He merely wants to get under her skirts. She’s no longer a maid, but his whore.”
I’d heard worse, but the words made me bristle all the same. They were talking about me. Me. Suddenly everything came rushing back. Leaving the Landcaster estate. Undressing in his study and the humiliation of his refusal. Gabe running after me in the sleet.
“Let me go!”
“You have no choice but to return with me.”
“I hate you!”
Our last exchange whispered tauntingly through my memory, troubling and confusing all at once. He’d carried me back to his home and then…then…what? Everything was blank, a dark void of uneasy emotions.
Was I in his bed? Dear Lord, what had he done to me? I squeezed my eyes tightly closed, praying they’d leave so I could think without their annoying, spiteful chatter ringing in my ears.
“And so we have to do what he says,” the first maid muttered, a shovel scraping across the fireplace hearth. She wasn’t even trying to be quiet.