Kate understood families had to eat, but she hated that women had to enter domestic service so young. ‘Have you worked here long?’ she asked.
‘Countess Blackmore hired me two days ago when she thought you might come. I used to work for her mother.’ Jane wasn’t practised enough to hide her wrinkled nose at the mention of her previous employer. Kate didn’t comment, too busy reeling at the idea of this young woman being hired expressly to work for her and before she had even agreed to the scheme. ‘I could do your hair, Miss. I’m good at styles.’
Kate touched her bun. She had put it up this morning but had walked the London streets with the brisk wind playing with it and she could feel strands coming loose and tickling her neck. ‘That is very thoughtful of you, Jane. I should like that very much.’
The two women made their way back into Kate’s bedroom, Jane cooing with delight at the fancy furnishings, becoming particularly effusive over the gold-plated drawer handles. The two of them would not be friends, it was not the way of the world, but the room didn’t feel as vast and as empty with company.
The smooth stroke of a hairbrush passing through her hair soothed her nerves, as did Jane’s chatter about who was who in the household. Kate discovered that the duke was a distant employer, that he spent most of his time alone in his office but that he was always fair and paid his staff well. Jane hadn’t learned much about the duke’s brothers, but having lived as a servant, it was more interesting for Kate to hear about the butlerand the housekeeper anyway. These two people held the greatest power amongst the servants and, whether they were pleasant or not, had the biggest impact on the nature of the household. Jane was very taken with both of them and spent most of her time with Kate talking about how they had made her feel at home over the last two days. It spoke volumes about the duke’s household that he employed such people. She repeated that mantra in her mind, trying to steady her nerves. The Dashworth family were not monsters; not like Michael Chorley. They were decent employers and were kind enough to take her in. Just because Edward Dashworth had been brusque, it did not follow that her stay would be miserable. She would do her best to enjoy herself and to take any opportunities offered. When she was old she would hopefully have pleasant memories of the time she had lived in a duke’s house and dined at his tables. It might even make for some good stories for her future pupils, if she ever had any more.
‘I will never find my way to the Blue Lounge by myself or back to my room afterwards,’ she told Jane later as they made their way towards it. ‘This place is a maze.’
‘Ring the bell when you need me and I will come and help you.’ Jane was sweetly kind, but her response to Kate’s comment, made more in jest than seriously, made Kate feel inadequate. Jane had only been living here a few hours longer than Kate and already knew her way around. ‘Here you are, Miss.’ Jane bobbed another curtsey. ‘If you don’t ring for me before, I shall come and help you prepare for dinner.’
Dinner was hours away; Kate had no idea what she was going to do in the time between now and then. Jane walked away before Kate could protest that she had been getting ready to eat meals for all of her six and twenty years quite happily by herself and would be able to do so again later, especially as she did nothave a nicer dress to change into than the one she was already wearing. She wished she had thought of it before, because it was going to be excruciating when everyone was in their finery and she was dressed… well, exactly how she was now, which wasn’t to say she looked bad, but she hardly looked fit for a duke’s house.
The house was still and silent, the door to the Blue Lounge innocuous. She stood there for long, ponderous moments, her hands and feet unwilling to propel her forward. Somewhere, deep inside the vast house, a grandfather clock began to strike.
It was eleven and standing here not entering the room was rude. Taking a steadying breath, she opened the door.
The Blue Lounge was as startlingly blue as it had been the first time she had seen it. She blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the colour explosion. Whoever had decorated this room had been truly dedicated to the task of making sure it lived up to its name.
After a few stunned moments, she took in the other people in the room. This time three of the brothers were in attendance: the young one, Christopher; the charming one, Freddie; and the tightly wound Edward. They stood as she entered, but it was Emily who held her attention. Well, that was not entirely true. It was Emily whom she smiled at, whose outstretched hands Kate clasped as they approached one another, but as she walked and spoke, Edward’s dark presence weighed heavily in the room, almost like he were somehow pressing against her skin. Emily spoke to her, asking her about Simon leaving
—pleasant, friendly comments that she responded to politely, her mind only half on the questions.
‘Are your rooms still to your liking?’ asked Emily, as they all settled into seats, Kate in a high wingback, Freddie and Emily pressed close together on a loveseat, with Edward somehowtaking up almost all of a settee, despite not sprawling across it. She barely noticed Christopher. ‘Because if they are not, there are plenty of others you can choose from. Honestly, I do not understand why the Dashworths need so many rooms.’
‘Darling, you are a Dashworth now.’
‘All the same, it is rather ridiculous, Freddie, to have so many empty rooms.’
‘The rooms are lovely,’ Kate cut in before a marital dispute could set in. ‘I do not need anything half as grand.’
There was a plate of cakes in front of her, but no one offered her one or made a move to take one for themselves. She laced her fingers together tightly to stop herself from reaching out and stuffing them all in her mouth at once. Freddie and Emily began to bicker quietly between themselves. She tried to follow their conversation, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to tear her eyes away from the food.
Edward snapped forward, handing her a plate from those stacked beside the tray of sweet treats. ‘If we wait for them to stop noticing each other, we will never eat. I find them easier to deal with if I only spend small amounts of time with them and may I recommend you do the same.’ His lips twitched slightly, the first sign he was human.
‘Thank you,’ she said, reaching for a slice of fruit cake. Her fingers brushed the outside of it before she spied small tongs. Heat scalded her skin as she realised her misstep. She snatched her hand away before starting again. The utensil was far fiddlier than her fingers would have been, but she finally managed to transfer the slice onto her plate.
Edward watched her, making no comment as she fumbled with this seemingly easy task. When she risked a glance at him, he quickly averted his eyes. Her first bite had her eyes flutteringclosed. Either she’d forgotten, or she’d never known, just how delicious this type of cake was. The sweet fruit mixing with the spiced flour was divine. She could live on nothing but this for the rest of her life and would die content. She took another bite and another, mourning its loss as soon as it was over.
It was bad manners to lick the plate, but that didn’t stop her staring at the crumbs with a longing she had hitherto only read about in stories. Finally, she looked up from her plate and found Edward staring at her again. His expression was impossible to read but she could guess at his disgust. She had all but devoured the cake in a way that was not at all subtle or ladylike; biting hunger and longing for something sweet had overtaken any manners she possessed. How different she must be from the women he was used to.
While she had been having her near religious experience with the food, Emily had helped herself to a tartlet and was daintily eating it with a small fork. Kate’s appetite for another slice fled when she spied the same utensil meant for her. It hadn’t occurred to her to pick up a fork to eat a slice of cake. She wasn’t even sure if she should have done, or whether the forks were meant for the tarts only. She had lived in aristocratic houses before but not mingled with her employers over tea and cake. These people were exotic creatures she didn’t understand.
‘Did Edward tell you what we plan to tell everyone about you?’ asked Emily, when she had finished her tartlet.
‘He did not.’
‘I thought Miss Hornel could get settled before we bombard her with information.’
‘Perhaps you could tell her now,’ said Emily sweetly. ‘I am not able to retain information well since I am expecting, and I do not want to confuse the details.’ The slight swelling of her stomach was only visible now the countess had placed a hand on it.
Edward glared at his sister-in-law, who smiled back serenely. They appeared to be having some sort of silent communication, but Kate could not fathom what it could be about.
‘Indeed,’ said Edward, straightening the cuffs on his jacket, turning away from Emily.
‘You do not need to make any plans for me,’ said Kate quickly. ‘I am quite content to wait for my brother to return. I understood I was to be your companion, Emily; there is no need for other plans to be made.’
