Everywhere her eyes fell there was elegance and beauty. Subtle touches of color and trim. Blue and gold featured strongly, along with discreet glass cabinets filled with delicate trinkets. Paintings hung in elaborate gilt frames, and the entire place was simply stunning.
“Your home is beautiful, Your Grace,” Dimity said, following the woman through a white door. She stopped just over the threshold, her eyes going to the showpiece of the room. The breath whooshed from her lungs as she studied the piano.
“It’s beautiful,” Dimity breathed, moving closer.
“Of course it’s beautiful! Only the king has one better, and perhaps that Beethoven.” She spat the name out like it tasted foul. “It’s solid oak with a Brazilian rosewood veneer.”
Dimity couldn’t help it; she had to touch. Running her fingers over the brass inlay, she thought it likely the most exquisite piano she had ever seen and wished her father stood beside her to see it.
“Sit, then, and play me something. Our interview can start with that.”
“Really?” She shot the duchess a look as she settled in a large soft chair. Romulus leapt to her knee, and Walter wandered over to rest against it.
“I never say things I don’t mean,” she said imperiously. One gnarled hand rested on Walter’s head.
Dimity needed no further urging. Taking off her coat, she lowered her bag and sat. She then lost herself in the music. The keys felt wonderful beneath her fingers, and she realized just how much she’d missed playing. The freedom of losing herself to the music. Here, nothing touched her.
Lowering her hands to her lap, she looked at the duchess when she’d finished. The woman had a small smile on her lips.
“You have a gift, Dimity.”
“Thank you. My father taught me.”
A tea tray had arrived, and Chibbers was busy pouring cups.
“How do you take your tea, Miss Brown?”
She sat beside the duchess, and they talked. Money was discussed and negotiated, as was an afternoon off, and Dimity thought that perhaps very soon she would wake up and realize this was all a dream. Was it possible that she, the woman who a day ago had been dancing on a bar in a seedy tavern, was now companion to a duchess?
She knew it would not be easy, knew the woman beside her was challenging, but she would take this position for however long it lasted.
“I will insist on you reading to me and am partial toCatullus.”
“Lovely. I shall try not to fall asleep then and infuse my voice with interest.”
“And you will be fitted for new dresses. Those rags will never do if you are to accompany me into society.” The duchess shuddered. “At least you have good manners when you use them.”
“No, really, I cannot take much more of your kindness,” Dimity drawled. But there was excitement, and the ball of dread in her chest had eased. Was this really happening to her?
“Take her to her room, Chibbers. I need to rest in the dark and quiet.”
Dimity snorted. “Is the sun burning your skin?”
The cackle followed Dimity and Walter from the room.
“You may be nervous about having a woman such as I suddenly appear in your household,” Dimity said, following the butler. “But I assure you I will not take advantage of your mistress, even though it may sound as if I could.” Dimity felt the need to clarify this matter. People often took her for something she was not simply because of her forthright speech. Her father had called it her finest trait.
“Always be true to your nature, daughter.”
She swallowed down the bitter taste. But she wasn’t his daughter, was she? In truth, she had no idea who she was.
“Miss Brown,” he opened a door and waved her inside, “there are, it seems, only two people in this household who are able to speak plainly. One of them is me; the other is now you. Welcome.”
His smile changed his entire face. His eyes went from stony to soft, and the lines around his mouth made him look like a benevolent uncle. She blinked.
“This will be your room,” he said, lowering her bag to the bed. A large bed draped in an emerald throw was where she would sleep. The walls were cream with small emerald flowers and mint green leaves. “I will have a blanket placed on the floor for Walter, as Miss Pratt, the housekeeper is prone to conniptions. Finding his hair all over the bed would not be pleasant for anyone in her vicinity.”
“I-I…” She could find no words. There was a wooden cabinet, a chair and desk, and two bedside tables. It would take her likely twenty paces to cross from one wall to the other. Dimity fell onto the bed, put her head in her hands, and wept the tears that she’d held at bay all day.
