Remembering herself, she dipped into a curtsy.
“Sit, Mrs. Yorke.”
His countenance was unreadable, his voice a low rumble that sent a frisson of something dangerous down her spine. He gestured to another chair not far from his, the one where Mr. Dunreave would sit when they reviewed matters pertaining to the household.
Warily, she did as the duke commanded, seating herself primly on the edge, rather as if she were poised for flight. One never knew what to expect from the Duke of Sedgewick.
She folded her hands in her lap. “Is there something you wished to speak with me about, Your Grace?”
And if so, it was most irregular for him to come belowstairs, to her private room, rather than ringing for her. But she wisely kept that to herself.
He nodded, his stare cool and assessing. “Dunreave told me you were meeting with Cook concerning the menu. I decided to await you here. I hope you don’t mind.”
Where was the growling, surly man who had been so outraged over the garlands and trees in his library? He was perfectly calm. Almost even polite.
She blinked. “Of course not, Your Grace. You are more than welcome to await me here whenever it pleases you.”
Drat. There it was again, that word.Please.It somehow took on a sensual meaning whenever she spoke it in his presence. Heat rose to her cheeks, and she hoped he wouldn’t take note of her embarrassing reaction.
“I hardly think so,” he said, an odd expression flashing over his handsome countenance for just a moment before it fled.
What was he saying? Surely not what her foolish mind had inferred?
“Who were you speaking to when you entered?” he asked before she could further contemplate the questions whirling in her mind.
“Myself, I’m afraid,” she admitted, certain she was red as a beet by now.
She must have been wrong to think there was even a hint of sexual innuendo in what he’d said. The Duke of Sedgewick had made it brutally clear he didn’t even like her and that he only tolerated her presence for his own peace of mind and on an entirely temporary basis.
To her surprise, a small smile flirted with the corners of his lips. “And do you make a good conversation partner, Mrs. Yorke?”
The effect of that tiny smile had her breath catching. If she had thought the duke handsome before, nothing could have prepared her for the Duke of Sedgewicksmiling. He had dimpleson both cheeks, a small groove that deepened just the slightest hint.
Belatedly, she realized he was staring at her, waiting for her response.
“I have often been the only conversation partner I’ve had, Your Grace. As such, I must admit to partiality.”
“Is it a solitary life, then, that of housekeeper?”
His marked interest was most disconcerting. How astonishing to be the full recipient of not just his gaze, but his full attention as well. And not in anger either.
“I suppose it must be at times,” she answered earnestly. “Unlike some of the other servants, we must carefully separate ourselves from the rest, lest they become too familiar. A maid who thinks herself friends with the housekeeper will not heed her. Most often, when I hold a conversation with anyone, it is to tell them which of their tasks must be performed next.”
“How long have you been a housekeeper, Mrs. Yorke? You do seem rather young for such a weighty task.”
“I have been employed as a housekeeper for these past four years, and I am five-and-twenty,” she answered easily, wondering how old he was.
No more than a decade her senior, she would wager.
“Have you always been in service?” he queried next. “You are remarkably well-spoken for a servant. Forgive me my bluntness, but I couldn’t help but to take note.”
“I have been in service since I was sixteen, and I thank you for the compliment. I owe my education to my aunt, Baroness Rothermel. I was permitted to live with her during much of my younger years, and my cousins’ governess taught me as well.”
“And these cousins and this aunt of yours, where are they now? Never say they abandoned you to a life of service.” He frowned, looking as if the thought displeased him.
But that was impossible, surely. He was the Duke of Sedgewick, and she was nothing more than his housekeeper. Why would he concern himself with the vagaries of her past? Why would he want to know about old hurts and betrayals and disappointments she had long since locked away deep inside her heart?
“They returned me to my family when I was of an age to make my debut,” she explained, and not without some of the old bitterness returning. “My father was an invalid and unable to support my mother and siblings. Someone needed to go to work so they didn’t starve. When he died, that became even more apparent.”
