CHAPTER ONE
LONDON, GROSVENOR SQUARE
Aurelia hurried through the grand rooms of the house until she reached the duchess’s sitting room, a space that in ordinary cases might have been a peaceful area.
The duchess had never known peace. In another life, she might have been a general, standing stiff-backed before her army. In this household, she ruled with a rod of iron, and when Aurelia came upon her, she sat before the fire with her cane in one hand, her narrowed eyes fixed on the door.
Aurelia almost stumbled at the sight. She jumped to a halt and dipped into a curtsy. Her hands shook, and she buried them in her skirts.
“You summoned me, ma’am,” she managed in a shaking voice.
The duchess clacked her cane against the ground. “I did. Can you tell me what you have done to incur my wrath?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Insolent!” The duchess rose, her eyes flashing fire. “Think again. What took place when my nephew visited?”
Aurelia’s stomach dropped into her shoes. Lord Redwood, the duchess’s nephew and the apple of her aging eye, had thought himself at liberty to grope and paw at her as though she were not his aunt’s companion but a lady of the night.
Aurelia had resisted, and evidently, he had run to his aunt with stories of how unobliging she was.
Hateful man.
She couldn’t say that, of course, so she merely cast her gaze at the floor. “I don’t understand what Your Grace is meaning.”
“Isthatso?” The duchess clicked her tongue. “I’m disappointed in you, Miss Dufort. I had thought, after taking you in when your mother died, that you would treat my household with more respect.”
“I—”
“Instead, you attempted to seduce Lord Redwood in my own home. Imagine my shock when he informed me of your betrayal. Attempting to ruin yourself in the hopes of him marrying you, no doubt. As though a man of my blood—and an earl, at that—would ever commit himself to a shameless hussy like you!”
A carriage clock ticked obnoxiously loudly on the mantelpiece, and Aurelia squeezed her jaw shut so tightly, it ached. If she called Lord Redwood out for his lies now, the duchess would never believe her.
So much for her home and mode of employment. She knew where this was going.
“But, Your Grace,” she tried, measuring each word, “I—”
“I willnothear your excuses!” She bashed her cane against the floor again, and Aurelia recoiled physically. The hard metal end had never been used on her, but there was always a first time. “If you cannot admit to it, then say nothing at all!”
All the indignities Aurelia had endured, all to secure a place in a prestigious household that would pay her a small amount and offer food and board. All this, and for the most basic securities. Aurelia wished she could throw it back in the duchess’s face—but if she did that, where would she go?
Shehadnowhere to go. No family to receive her, no home to retreat to.
And so, she cast her dignity to the wind as she fell to her knees and clasped her hands together. “I would never disrespect you in your own home, ma’am. Please believe me. I—”
“Stand up, girl.” The duchess huffed, her grip tightening on her cane. “You ought to have known better, given your position.If you had merely done what I asked of you and kept your head down, I would have allowed you to stay. But I willnotcountenance this.” She tapped her cane against the carpet. “You have an hour to collect your things and get out.”
Aurelia’s fingers trembled. “Please—”
“Leave.”
Aurelia’s amenity to humiliating herself came to an abrupt end, and she rose, dusting off her skirts. No amount of begging would restore her position, so she gave up on the attempt.
“Yes, ma’am,” she said flatly. Then, because the duchess would never give her a good reference regardless, she added, “Your nephew is a boorish pig, and he has no right to attempt to seduce the help, then complain about her licentiousness when it fails miserably.” She bobbed an ironic curtsy and left the room, ignoring the duchess’s spluttering fury. Without looking back, she strode along the hallway, anger and determination alive in her chest.
Shewouldfind something else. When her mother and uncle had died, she had not despaired; she would not despair now.
A gentleman stepped in her way. Lord Redwood, leering down at her from his position of privilege. His hand snaked out to grip her elbow. “Scared, little mouse?”
