Her heart thudded at the sight. It was possible that someone on the household staff had simply included the bright flower in the bouquet, but she couldn’t help but recall her conversation with Kit when she’d mentioned her affinity for the flower that reminded her so much of her late mother.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said as she got up slowly. She did feel steadier today than she had the prior one. Less tired after a blissful night’s sleep in Kit’s very comfortable bed. She couldn’t help but wonder where he had spent his night.
Well, that wasn’t about to be repeated. She would certainly never find herself in his bed again. It would be back to normal now. She had to make certain of it so he wouldn’t have any reason to go back on his vow that he wouldn’t end her employment.
She looked down at herself. She was still in his shirt. His now very wrinkled shirt, which she had slept in. And her gown was nowhere in sight. One of the maids must have taken it during the blurry time when Amelia and Diana were fussing over her, getting her out of the wet things and into something warm and dry.
But that meant she was trapped here. There would be no efficient readying of herself, which she had perfected in the last few months, and then slipping back into her regular routine.
She glanced at the door. Of course, the duke had a bell. But would it bring his valet? She was a little afraid of Mr. Stone, for he was very proper and very good at what he did. He judged the whole household. But if it didn’t bring Mr. Stone, then who?
“Just ring the bell, girl,” she muttered. “You almost died—you can’t be afraid anymore.”
She jerked the cord and then panicked. God, should she get back into his bed to wait for help? No, that seemed very wrong. She wasn’t the duchess. So she stepped back, settling herself as demurely as she could onto a chair beside the fire as she waited to see who would come. At least Kit was tall and his shirt came down to mid-thigh. She felt horribly exposed, but not as much as she could.
A few moments passed and the door to the chamber opened to reveal one of the maids who had helped the previous afternoon after the accident. Jill stepped into the chamber with a bright smile. Sarah nearly wept in relief when she saw the young woman also had a gown and underthings draped over her arm and slippers tucked into her hand.
“Good morning, Miss Sarah,” she said with a deferential nod of her head.
Sarah wrinkled her brow. She’d been in service for months now. The girls below stairs were friendly in the house, but no one ever acted like anyone, aside from Barrymore and Stone, was higher than anyone else. They were servants, with rank and place, but without pretense.
And now Jill all but curtseyed, and for a moment it was like she’d gone back in time to when her family still had money and her maid, Katie, would help her get ready for balls and parties.
She blinked away the old memories, put herself firmly back in her current position and said, “Good morning, Jill. I must say I’m so devilishly happy it is you who came and not Stone.”
The maid giggled and some of the deferential wall came down. “Poor man had enough of an apoplexy when he had to go to the guest wing to help the duke ready himself. You should have heard him go on about needing to sneak into the dressing room while you slept in the adjoining.”
Sarah’s heart sank. That talk could destroy someone below stairs as easily as it could above.
“Oh, please tell me they all know, including Stone, that I didn’t choose to be put in the duke’s room yesterday.”
Jill drew back with a nod. “Of course, miss! Gracious, your heroics were all the talk last night during our supper and this morning before the dukes and duchesses were up and about. Stone was put in his place right quick when we reminded him you had saved Miss Phoebe. He stopped his grousing then and looked mightily chagrined.”
Sarah’s eyes went wide, not only at the news that Stone had been shamed into ceasing his talk about her, but also at the fact that the dukes and duchesses were already awake. “What time is it, Jill?”
Jill smiled as she set the gown down on the edge of the bed and the other things beside it. “Half past ten, Miss Sarah.”
Sarah jerked her hands to her mouth. She should have been up at dawn to prepare for the day, along with all the other servants. “Oh no! What he must think of me! Thank you for the gown—I will dress right away and ready myself as quickly as possible. Please tell the duke I am sorry, I didn’t mean to neglect my duties for so long!”
Jill stared at her in surprise. “No one is angry, miss! On the contrary, we were told by His Grace to be sure not to wake you. And when you rang, I was asked to come help you ready yourself.”
Sarah’s mouth dropped open. She hadn’t had help to ready herself in months. Once she’d sold all her finer gowns, she’d been sure to have her plain, serviceable wardrobe designed so that she could fasten and unfasten herself. Her hairstyle was no longer elaborate, but a loose bun at the nape of her neck.
In truth, she rather liked the simplicity her life contained now, and the independence of caring for herself. She could be dressed and ready for her day in less than half an hour, when before she might have taken an hour or more with a maid fastening and fussing.
“I couldn’t!” Sarah insisted.
“I don’t want to get in trouble, miss,” Jill said, worrying her hands before herself and bringing Sarah’s focus back to the room.
She sighed. “Of course.” She stepped toward Jill and slid the shirt from her body. “But you must stop addressing me asmiss. I’ve been nothing but Sarah since I got here—please don’t put me in a position where I belong neither with those above stairs or those below it.”
Jill seemed to ponder that a moment, then nodded. “Of course. Though I swear that His Grace does seem to see you differently.”
Heat suffused Sarah’s cheeks, and she hoped it wasn’t too obvious to her friend as she helped her button her plain, black gown. Of course Kit saw her differently. He had kissed her so passionately not twenty-four hours before. She could practically still taste him on her lips. Nothing could be the same after that.
“Sarah?” Jill said.
She blinked and realized the maid was pointing at a chair before the table where Kit’s miniatures were set. Sarah took it, and Jill produced a brush from her pocket and began to run it through her hair.
