For a minute, she could do nothing but sit perfectly still on the foot of the bed. It was strange to be so still, not to be needed anywhere, not to have a housekeeper calling at her to do something or a butler looking down his nose at her for she hadn’t done a task quickly enough.
Slowly, she kicked off her shoes. Weariness overtook her, tiredness that may have come from the late night of packing or the anxiety of that meeting with the duke, she wasn’t sure which.
Maybe a nap is not such a bad idea.
She sank back on the bed covers. Her hands ran over the rich green material, her fingers tracing the beautiful patterns, as her head fell on the plush cushions. It was the most comfortable bed she had ever laid on in her life. As her eyes closed, her thoughts raced. One second, she thought of how mad Caroline was to think they would get away with this deception for any length of time; the next second, she was thinking of the duke kissing her hand again.
A darkness swept in, a foggy darkness, where images melded together. The dream took hold of her so suddenly that she could not pull herself from its depths.
She was in the library, walking between the ladders and admiring the books, though she was not alone. She could feel that the duke was nearby, even though she couldn’t see him, then suddenly, there was that touch to the wrist again, a touch so light, it was like butterflies’ wings. She turned towards him.
The Duke of Peddleton’s green eyes were staring down at her. They were darker than her own green eyes, the shade of a stormy ocean. He released her wrist and took hold of her waist boldly, the touch now firm as he backed her up against the bookshelves. Her heartbeat pounded as she felt his hips brush hers. Then he moved his hands. He took hold of both of her wrists and crossed them over her head against the shelves. She was playfully pinned in by him, but she loved it and had no desire whatsoever to escape.
He bent towards her, that mischievous smile she had learned about that morning creasing his cheeks, and then his lips found hers. Such heat shot through her that she fought against the way he had pinned her hands, desperate to touch him. Her body arched into his; then suddenly, he moved his hand again. He took hold of the curve of her waist, drawing her nearer still as he parted her lips. When his tongue brushed hers, it was like fire –
“Oh!” Alaina gasped in surprise as she sat up on the bed, bolt upright. Breathing heavily, she looked around the room. The sun had set a little more, the light now burnt orange, but nothing had changed, and there was certainly no duke with her. It was all an imagining, a heated dream.
She fell back down on the covers and held her hands over her eyes, trying to block out the view of this room.
“This is not good,” she murmured, knowing that heated dreams of the Duke of Peddleton could only lead to an attachment. What good would that do if she became attached to a duke when she was nothing more than an orphaned maid without a shilling to her name?
***
Caroline couldn’t stop her smile as she walked down the tiny stairwell towards the kitchen and where the other staff were. Everyone was alive with activity, so much so that she was rather reminded of the beehives on her father’s estate. Everywhere she looked, people were buzzing back and forth.
Maids carried trenchers and trays of porcelain ware and crockery, ready to set the table for dinner.
“Watch out,” one maid said gruffly, hurrying past Caroline with a large basket of sheets to be washed.
Around the kitchen, cooks were hurrying to their tasks. One young man clapped his hands, and flour spilled over the young girl behind him, who jutted out her bottom lip in anger. Two older men were beating dough into submission, chanting a song between themselves that was then passed around the chamber.
Two footmen walked past Caroline, who looked stressed indeed. One kept shaking his head as the other tried to calm him down with a hand on his shoulder.
“You worry too much,” the second man was saying. “The duke is always happy with the work we do.”
“I know, I know.” The first still huffed and hurried towards the kitchen table. Two young boys followed them, looking like grooms from the stable judging by the straw stuffed beneath their flat caps in their hair.
The air hung with rich scents of spices and cooked meat, ready for dinner. Caroline inhaled deeply, basking in the beautiful scent.
She looked around the room as she stood in the corner of the kitchen, comparing it to a ballroom where she had so often stood amongst the ton. This room was much more animated and far more interesting. She longed to ask what the cooks were making and what song they were singing. There was such an air of ease between everyone in that room, too; it was a stark contrast to the stiff lips of those of the ton.
“Careful, lass,” another maid said, walking close to Caroline’s shoulder. “You’ll get pushed over if you stand there much longer.” She lowered her voice, bending towards Caroline so that her blonde hair brushed her shoulders. “My advice, look busy. Or our housekeeper will give you a task within a minute; you can be sure of that.”
“Thank you for the advice,” Caroline said with a giggle.
“Where is she? Oh, Alaina, there you are.” The housekeeper’s voice wafted towards them both.
“Ah, too late on this occasion.” The maid offered a sympathetic smile and hurried off with the tray of crockery she was carrying. Her place was soon taken by Mrs Winter, the housekeeper, who looked at Caroline with an eager smile and curious eyes.
“Well, we are glad to have you with us, Alaina. It’s been some time since we had a lady in this household, so a lady’s maid with experience is ideal. Do you know what your mistress likes to eat? Is there anything we should avoid?” Mrs. Winter said. She looked up and down what Caroline was wearing, and apparently so accustomed to fussing with the maids, she reached out and began to retie the apron around Caroline’s waist.
Caroline did her best not to flinch.
“Oh, yes,” Caroline said hurriedly, glad that she knew her friend so well that she could answer this question. “She has no love of venison but is a great admirer of white meats. Her favourite sweet is marzipan, too.”
“Excellent, excellent,” the housekeeper said distractedly. She now clearly took issue with Caroline’s sleeves and began to unroll them from where Caroline had stuffed them up to her elbows. “And what about to drink? What does she like?”
Caroline hesitated, now seeing a flaw in their plan. Alaina, as a maid, had never had much cause to drink the finer drinks that might be served at a dinner in a grand house such as this. As far as Caroline knew, Alaina drank tea most of the time.
