if she wasn’t a maid, her mother and Nicholas wouldn’t consider anyone less than a baron for her, and a baron would be seen as a disappointment.
She couldn’t be in this room any longer. She turned and yanked the door open. “The children are waiting.” She marched out of his study, thankful that, at a minimum, her legs still worked.
“Wait.”
She stopped. With a slow, deep breath, she turned to him.
When they had started her fire, the one in the music room, at first the flames were orange and then gold. But as the heat grew in intensity, the flames closest to the coal were a burning, intense blue. Mr. Woodsworth’s eyes looked like that now.
She waited for him to say something, anything, but he just stood there. Slowly the bright flamed dulled until there was only a reminder of the sharp brilliance it had been only a moment ago. He went to his desk and lifted his list.
“You are right. I shouldn’t have held your hands. I know we are playing many roles together, but I shall try to remember while in this house you are a maid and not a friend.”
“Of course.” Patience hated the way the words sounded on her lips. Why couldn’t she be a friend and a maid? But would a friend’s hands still feel warm from his touch? That wasn’t because of friendship. If Mr. Woodsworth wanted to maintain a professional relationship while in the home, that would be best for all concerned. As improper and unlikely as a match between a maid and employer was, a match between her true self and Mr. Woodsworth wouldn’t be much better. Especially if anyone found out she had lived in his household. She nodded and turned once again to the nursery.
“Oh, and one more thing.”
Her heart stopped. What torment would he have for her now?
“Would you like to take this with you?” He held up the list of gentlemen.
She nearly laughed. That is what he had called her back for? “No,” she said. “You keep it. Perhaps you could add more men to it after all.”
“True.” He placed it back down on his desk and then took a deep breath before turning around. He practically marched through the doorway past her and then motioned for her to follow him to the nursery. It was a subtle reminder: she was the maid here. She followed, watching his every move, while he looked only forward, perhaps not even remembering she was there.
Which was fine. She hadn’t come to the home so Mr. Woodsworth would think of her or remember her. She was here to have an experience that taught her about hard work and helped her experience a life different from her own. After spending three hours ironing the day before, at least she knew she was accomplishing that.
They reached the corridor that led to the nursery, and he slowed enough for her to almost overtake him. He lowered his head but didn’t turn it. “I hope you know that we shall be sorry to lose you.”
She swallowed a bitter laugh. That is what all employers told employees they parted company with. She had heard Papa say it several times. It wasn’t really true though. The only employees they had dismissed had been the ones who didn’t fit with the family. No one had truly been sorry to see them go.
***
What had just transpired in his study? Anthony was unsure, and he didn’t like to be unsure. He snuck a glance back at Patience. Her normally cheerful face was solemn. He had thought for a moment . . . But it was ridiculous. His maid knew this was a charade, a charade to secure him a wife, even. She was worried about losing her position. Even still, what had prompted him to hold her hands? The Woodsworth family weren’t exactly the type of people to show affection with touch.
Not that he had any affection for his maid. That was logically impossible.
Improbable, at the very least.
He wanted nothing more than to tell her she could keep her position and hopefully put a smile back on that broad mouth of hers, but she was correct. Once he and Miss Morgan were engaged, they would have to start looking for another situation for Patience.
“Do you know what play the children have planned for us?”
“No, they wouldn’t tell me. But it has kept them entertained for hours, so I haven’t complained.”
“It should be interesting, at any rate.”
“With Harry and Augusta?” Patience said. There