Augustin nodded. “No one is more loyal than the Earl of Gilbourne. When my mother was ill, he gave me two months’ holiday, paid, to look after her.”
“He gives an extra month’s wages, every Christmas, so that we can purchase gifts for our loved ones.”
“Or ourselves,” added a maid with a cheeky grin.
“And he even lets us borrow books from his library, as long we return them in pristine condition.”
“Oh, Lord, remember the time when Rhoda—”
“The uncut copy of Castle Rackrent! My lord was appalled!”
“I thought for certain she’d be sacked on the spot.”
“So did she! Had her bag packed and ready before my lord was even home from Parliament and saw what she’d done.”
“It was an accident. She’s got clumsy fingers, is all.”
“He wished to dismiss her for it?” Matilda asked.
They all stared at her as though she’d sprouted antennae.
“I just said it was an accident,” said the footman. “My lord understands such things better than anyone. He says as long as no one is harmed, any accident can be forgiven.”
“Docked her wages for the book, though,” put in a maid. “And bought a fresh copy for the library.”
“Rhoda never did go back in there,” Augustin said with a chuckle.
It was this story that played in Matilda’s head again and again all afternoon as she followed Mrs. Harris through the rest of her duties.
Anything could be forgiven, so long as no one was harmed.
Was that what she needed? To be forgiven? She had been the one to goad Gilbourne into that kiss. He’d told her it was supposed to be make-believe, and specifically instructed her to slap him before their lips made contact.
She’d climbed up him like a monkey instead, latching onto his neck and demanding the very thing he hadn’t intended to give.
That he hadn’t stopped her… well. Perhaps he’d longed for that kiss just as fervently as Matilda had. Or perhaps he was too much of a gentleman to halt her in her tracks.
After all, she was his ward. He was saddled with her, like it or not. For three more weeks, anyway. Slightly less than. The days were disappearing like petals plucked from a flower. When the last one fluttered away… Matilda would be gone.
And so would her chance to prove herself worthy of a future with Gilbourne.
Chapter 24
Matilda was just sitting down to supper—in the earl’s primary dining room, at Mrs. Harris’s fond insistence—when the earl himself strode through the door and took his seat at the head of the table.
Lord Gilbourne waited for Matilda to finish serving herself before he arranged his own plate.
Soon, she could stand the tension no longer. “I wanted to say I’m very—”
“We needn’t discuss it,” he interrupted, without glancing up from his plate of fish.
Well. All right, then.
She stared at him.
He stared at his plate, at his fork, at his goblet of wine. Anywhere but at Matilda.
She pressed her lips together and forced her gaze back to her own meal. Either Gilbourne didn’t wish to allude to the matter whilst a footman stood in the shadows… or the earl did not believe the incident deserved any thought at all.
