her as a person. Someone she could be happy with when it was time for her to marry. What if all men were like Mr. Woodsworth—only looking to forward their holdings or increase their position in society?
“I’m not sure what you are planning, but I won’t do it. I don’t like the idea of deception. And it sounds like you are trying to deceive this Miss Morgan of yours. Do you want me to spend time with her to try to influence her opinion of you? Or do you think, perhaps, that by paying attention to another woman, she will come visit you alone in your library, like you thought she did the other day?”
He walked around his desk and sat down. Leaning forward, he rubbed his forehead with his hand as a faint redness made its way up his neck. “I don’t know what I was thinking that day. Of course Miss Morgan would never visit me. I’m sorry you had to witness that. And no, I am not deceiving Miss Morgan. She is the one who asked me to find another woman to show interest in.”
This was Miss Morgan’s idea? Why in the world would she do that? And what possessed Mr. Woodsworth to agree? She must be a very beautiful specimen to have made this otherwise stiff and controlled man desperate in a library and now willing to deceive all of London with a so-called maid.
“The two of you have a very interesting relationship.”
“I know. Will you do it?”
“Why would she want you to show interest in another woman?”
“To make her parents worry she will lose me as a suitor. Will you help me?” He brushed off Miss Morgan’s plan as if it was the most reasonable idea in the world.
“This seems like a terrible idea.”
“I’m not asking you to assess Miss Morgan’s ideas.” Mr. Woodsworth frowned. “I am asking you if you will go to this one ball. We will see after that whether it is even necessary for you to go to any others.”
“I don’t understand why you are asking me. Any other woman would be a much better choice.” The last thing she needed was to be spotted by someone of Nicholas’s acquaintance.
“I have thought it through, and you are, in fact, the best choice.”
“Then you haven’t thought it through well enough.” Patience placed both of her hands on Mr. Woodsworth’s desk and leaned forward. For all of his plans and assessments, he was missing one key piece of information: Patience wasn’t a maid, and the last thing she wanted to do was enter society under false pretenses. “There must be someone better.”
“You shouldn’t be so unsure of yourself. You are perfect for the role. You speak quite well. Your features are quite stunning. No one would blame me for showing an interest in you.”
“You think me stunning? In this dress?” What would he think of her if she was in her regular clothes? She shrugged the thought away. He was trying to flatter a poor maid into doing what he wanted. And as far as seeing her in her regular clothing? He would never get that opportunity.
He cleared his throat. “I can say this because you know how committed I am to Miss Morgan, but yes, if your hair was done properly, and with a little less soot on your face, you could very well be one of the better-looking ladies at any given social function.”
A slow smile spread across her lips. Mr. Woodsworth gave rather strange compliments. And even though she knew it was flattery, she found herself wishing for a few more of them. But that was silly. She was his father’s maid, and he was using her to help forward his plans with Miss Morgan. “What kind of social functions, exactly?”
“There is a ball this week. For certain I should like you to attend that one.”
“And who did you say was hosting, again?” She shouldn’t even be considering going. She would be presented at court in just a few short months. Someone could recognize her. But she had to admit she was interested in seeing this Miss Morgan. Even more tantalizing was the thought that in this one thing she could be useful. Mr. Woodsworth claimed he needed her help. No one had ever needed Patience’s help before. If only there was something she could do to hide her appearance.
“Mr. and Mrs. Bernard Simpson.”
Simpson. Did she know anyone by the name of Simpson? Not that she could think of. “What