“I did and had no less than ten people comment on my dress.”
“Out of pity, I’m sure, Your Grace,” Dimity tsked. “That is a horrid color on you.”
“I happen to like this shade!”
“It hurts my eyes,” Dimity said, looking at her employer. The dress was made of some stiff fabric that sat off the duchess’s body. The bonnet she’d chosen to wear with it had been black with an array of things sticking out of it, and her slippers were in matching pink.
“Then don’t look!”
“I know you deliberately like to annoy people, but surely a compliment that is genuinely offered is better than a lie?”
The duchess chuckled. “But where would the fun be in that? I like to see who can come up with the most inventive compliment.”
“You are a wicked woman,” Dimity said as Walter wandered over to lean on the duchess. Romulus followed.
She liked it here, there was no getting around the fact. She liked her employer’s gruffness, and the way she spoke what she thought. Of course, her title allowed her to do so, but still, there was no subterfuge with this woman. Plus, she loved Walter.
You never knew she was being kind or generous unless you knew where to look. It was there in the small tilt of her head and softening around her mouth.
“Thank you. That is indeed a compliment, Dimity. And now I have a question for you.”
“I can hardly wait.”
“You have a smart mouth.”
“One of my finer qualities, as you often tell me,” Dimity added. The duchess loved to banter and insult.
“I do, because you remind me of the young woman I was.”
“Thank you. That is a compliment I will take,” Dimity said.
“I was quite the sensation when I entered society, you know. I was beautiful, wealthy, and spoke my mind. I was a breath of fresh air among all those simpering debutantes.”
“Was it wonderful? Entering the ballroom for the first time, I mean. Were you nervous or excited?” Dimity asked.
“Both. I walked in on my father’s arm, and everyone looked at me. He was a handsome man.”
“I have seen his portrait; he was very handsome.”
“He was a wonderful man. Now, I want to ask you a question.”
“Very well,” Dimity said.
“I’ve never asked about your life before coming to me. I know you worked for the Earl of Raine, but little else.”
“There is little to tell, Your Grace. My father was a piano teacher. My mother died when I was young, and I have no recollection of her.”
The duchess looked at her with steady eyes.
“Did you like working for Raine?”
“I liked his sister,” Dimity said, wondering where this line of questioning was going.
“He is a good man.”
She nodded, her heart suddenly thudding hard inside her chest.
“But then so is Mr. Diard.”
