The girl cast Felicity a look, then turned back to Lord Flint. She nodded.
“Why?”
Another silence. A suspicion of tears in her eyes.
“You do know that I am the duke's son,” Flint said, tapping fingers along his knee.
The girl looked frozen.
The rest of the interview didn't go any better.
* * *
“He really isn'ta hard man,” Felicity told the girl twenty minutes later after they'd been left alone with the tea things. “Sugar?”
The girl shook her head. Not a prosperous person then, whether servant or mistress, if she didn't want to give herself a taste of what she could never usually have. From the girl's faint accent, Felicity knew she'd come across the Irish Channel quite a while ago. From the calluses on her hands, Felicity would peg the girl as a servant. She handed over the cup into those shaking hands and poured her own, adding two lumps, not nearly as disciplined as the woman she faced. Shelikedsugar. She wanted to enjoy it while she could.
“You surprised Lord Flint,” she explained as she stirred. “He had no idea this...er...program had been going on.” Sipping at the lovely rich brew, she shrugged. “But then, he's rarely here, so I'm sure it hasn't mattered. Bad luck and timing for you.”
Although why the duke hadn't foreseen the mischance Felicity couldn't think.
The girl sipped at the tea, and her eyes went wider. She looked down at the cup as if it should explain itself.
“Lovely, isn't it?” Felicity asked. “I must say that everyone is treated well here.”
When they weren't being harassed, anyway, to marry the heir for no better reason than he was handsome, funny, endearing and....well, the heir. The whole thing kept making less and less sense.
“You have been forbidden from speaking?” she asked the girl.
Again Miss Murphy looked around. Again she nodded.
“Do youwantto go to America?”
This time the nod was enthusiastic and accompanied by a smile.
“I already have a situation,” she admitted in the kind of gentle voice that should belong to the best of nannies. “In Boston. I have cousins there and all.”
“It sounds marvelous,” Felicity agreed and wondered if someone would like to offer her something similar.
Could Boston America be any worse than the wilds of Derbyshire? Maybe it was at least warmer there, so a person didn't get chilblains every time she removed her gloves at the piano.
“You'll not be...er, traveling with me?” the girl asked.
Felicity looked down at the sad state of her brown kerseymere and smiled. “Believe it or not,” she said, “No. Although I begin to understand why even though she didn't speak much, Mrs. Windom fed me like the fatted calf.”
“Truly?” There was deprivation in those magnificent blue eyes.
Felicity's smile grew. “Truly. What were you told of your stay here?”
“I keep to my room and everything would be delivered to me until such time as I leave to board my ship.”
“Then so you shall. For a while at least, I seem to be in charge of the house, and I want you to feel safe. I have the most peculiar feeling you haven't in a while.”
For which Pip would definitely demand answers of her uncle the duke if Felicity asked. Because there was no doubt about the sharp shadows that skimmed Miss Murphy's eyes.
Felicity gave a final nod. “How about this, Miss Murphy? That is an awfully small room you have, but we don't want it getting about to Lord Flint's aunt that you're here. She will torment you like a bluebottle fly. Not only that, evidently, she often has visitors. So, your universe will consist of your room and my sitting room. If you contain yourself thusly, I am certain you shall go unremarked.”
Twenty minutes later Felicity checked for witnesses before ushering Nora Murphy back up to her room. And then Felicity headed back down to speak with Lord Flint.
