Tall, Duke, and Dangerous (Hazards of Dukes #2) - Megan Frampton Page 0,31

excellent idea,” Jane said, entirely surprising Ana Maria. Thankfully forgetting about the chaperone issue as well.

“You really think so?”

Jane nodded. “I don’t know if you recall, but there was that time a few years back when the head gardener miscalculated something for the duchess”—the last two words said in a growl—“and the house was overrun with lilies. Her Grace was livid about it, since she thought lilies were vulgar”—at which she rolled her eyes—“but we put them everywhere. They made even polishing the silver more pleasurable.”

Like Ana Maria, Jane had begun her life in the house as a scullery maid, working her way up to lady’s maid after the duchess had died.

“I do remember,” Ana Maria said with a smile. “Fletchfield tried to keep himself from reacting, but even he was a trifle more joyful during that time.”

“So it stands to reason that a person’s surroundings would alter their mood.”

One thing Ana Maria had always appreciated about Jane was her ability to cut right through to the heart of the matter.

“I’ll start with Miss Octavia’s club, and perhaps—if I can manage it—I’ll try to find some funds to help beautify the local schools and orphanages.”

“Those children aren’t going to want flowers and pretty wallpaper, my lady,” Jane said drily. “They want food, and a solid future.”

Ana Maria’s resolve faltered at the accuracy of her friend’s words. But it returned as she considered the ramifications of what she might be able to do. “They do, and I’ll see what I can do there. But I know myself that presenting a situation in a certain way makes it more amenable to the viewer.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jane asked. She gestured for Ana Maria to turn around so she could remove her gown.

“I mean,” Ana Maria said, her voice muffled by the fabric as Jane slid it up and over her head, “that if we want to get these children a promising future we have to show there is promise within them. There are very few aristocratic people, unfortunately, who will see a grubby urchin and think they should be welcomed into their home, even as the lowest employee. If we clean up their surroundings and make it appear as though they fit within those people’s homes, they’ll be far more likely to take a chance on them.”

She herself was proof of that—prior to six months ago, nobody paid attention to her. But give her some nice gowns and even people who did not want her dowry wanted to know her.

“This one?” Jane asked, holding a gown up for Ana Maria’s perusal. It was one of the ones she’d worn back when she was the duchess’s maid of all work, a castoff from the duchess that Ana Maria still had a fondness for, likely because it was one of the gowns she’d worn to sneak away and spend time with Sebastian, her younger half brother.

“That one is perfect,” Ana Maria beamed.

“Huh, I’ve finally been able to choose something you want to wear,” Jane replied in a wry tone. “And it looks like something you’d clean the grates in. Since you used to do just that.”

“Oh, hush, and help me get ready,” Ana Maria said, rolling her eyes.

“In here.”

Ana Maria swallowed as Nash pushed the door open to his fighting room. He wasn’t yet in shirtsleeves, but he also wasn’t wearing a cravat, which meant she could see his bare throat.

She hadn’t realized a gentleman’s bare throat could be at all alluring, and yet here she was, staring at it as though it were a scrumptious sweet that she’d been forbidden to taste.

She’d like to taste it. Did people even do that? Tasting someone else’s throat had not been covered in the belowstairs discussion of general intercourse. And now she certainly couldn’t ask, what with her supposed to be a lady and all.

But she was still standing at the door, gawking at his strong, powerful throat.

“Yes, thank you,” she said nonsensically, walking into the room.

It was mostly empty save for a few items of furniture at the edges. The walls were covered with some odd material, chosen for something other than decoration, while the floors were dull, making Ana Maria itch to polish them.

Those days are over, she reminded herself.

“Do you want anything to drink before we begin?” Nash said. He sounded so awkward it made her feel slightly less so.

“I don’t think I should.” Alcohol would make her even less sharp, and she might accidentally say something that she should not.

“I