leave straight away and go home. She couldn’t return home without her brother. And especially not in these clothes. Her one dress hadn’t fit well when she’d arrived here, and it hung even worse now. The quality of the fabric was lacking, and everyday use was taking its toll.
No, she had to wait and trust that Lord Bryant would get word to Nicholas before he arrived home. It was kind of Lord Bryant.
But she also hated him for it.
Why couldn’t she have solved her own problems, at least this once?
She had come to this household to prove to herself and to Nicholas that she didn’t need anyone to plan her life for her. And in the end, she needed Lord Bryant’s help as well as her brother’s.
Patience took the broom back to the kitchen. Cook was there, already preparing the noon meal. She should say something to her—thank her for the times she had shown Patience things in the kitchen. But she didn’t. She quietly set the broom in the broom closet and washed her hands and face in the sink next to the stove. The water was cold. Warm water was one thing she could look forward to. Tomorrow she would most likely have a hot bath.
She ran her cap and apron to her room, straightened her dress as well as she could, and left.
It was time to say goodbye to Mr. Woodsworth, if he dared appear in his study this morning.
She knocked softly.
“Come in.” His answer was immediate.
She opened the door, and for the first time since joining this household as a maid, Mr. Woodsworth stood at her arrival.
Then he sat down. Then stood again. He finally gave up and strode over to where she stood. His face was strange. He pulled at his sleeves in the way he did when he was nervous or wanted to compose himself.
Oh heavens, Lord Bryant had told him. Her stomach felt tight. It was a wise choice to skip breakfast this morning. Her stomach couldn’t handle Mr. Woodsworth knowing she was the daughter of the Duke of Harrington. He would treat her differently. He already was.
“You don’t need to stand when I enter a room. I am just your servant.”
Mr. Woodsworth had reached her side. His strength and solidness calmed her breathing and slowed her heart rate a bit, as it always did. But not enough.
With his eyes still on her, he reached behind her and slowly closed the door. His arm brushed the top of her shoulder. He was so close and in a closed room. Was there a chance that he did not know? He smelled of ink and morning tea, and when he brought his hand back to his side, he didn’t step away from her.
He leaned in, and her heart didn’t steady. It went wild. “You have never been just my servant.”
She closed her eyes slowly. Lord Bryant had told him. She threw her hands over her face and ran over to the club chair where she had read the last time she had been here with him.
“You must think me ridiculous. How long have you known? It must have been since Lord Bryant’s visit.”
She didn’t dare look at him, but a small sound like a laugh came from his side of the room. “Oddly enough, that is exactly when I knew. He told Stewart you died by snake bite, by the way.”
“What?” She looked up at him then. He was smiling. Sweet mercy, he was smiling at her. That tentative smile that changed all the lines in his face into works of art.
“He told Mr. Fairchild that you died. Well, to be more specific, that Mary Smith had died. So one problem has been taken care of, anyway.”
“You don’t need me to act as her anymore?”
“No, that would hardly suit my purposes any longer. We need a different plan.”
“A different plan to help you convince Miss Morgan’s parents? Surely you must see that I can no longer help you with that.”
“What?”
“It is why I came here this morning. I wanted to tell you, but it seems as though Lord Bryant has beat me to it.” Her hand started shaking, and her eye twitched. That wasn’t necessarily true.
“I don’t want you to help me with Miss Morgan any longer. I don’t want to marry Miss Morgan any longer. The very thought of it makes my blood run cold. She and I would not make a good pair.”
Sun broke through the window, and the room brightened. Specks of