She’d banished every unsavory thought of the handsome, traveling stranger. Now she knew the truth, that she been alone in a carriage with the Duke of Kirkhammer. Had he recognized her? Had he seen her at some ball, some dinner, some event where she’d been paraded about by her mother? They’d never been introduced, she was certain of that. Yet that didn’t mean he hadn’t noticed her at some point or other. It didn’t mean he wasn’t piecing together who she really was right now.
Mr. Sedgewick—now the Duke—regarded her with those same calm, assessing emerald eyes that had set her heart aflutter. It infuriated her, yet she knew she had no grounds for such feelings. She was deceiving him as well.
“I do apologize for the deception, Miss Graham. I simply wanted to get a sense of you before… well, before all of this.” He gestured vaguely at the house, the servants, the grand spectacle of his position. “You’re coming to work for me, after all. I thought it prudent to form my own impression first.”
Eliza’s mind raced. That was reasonable. Perfectly reasonable. And yet, something seemed awry in his response.
“Your Grace!” A stern-looking woman in her fifties, swept forward with a curtsy. “We had not expected you until tomorrow. Everything is in order, but?—”
Her eyes flicked to Eliza, curiosity and confusion mingling on her face.
The Duke raised a hand, cutting her off gently but firmly. “Mrs. Dawson, this is Miss Graham. Miss Graham, this is my housekeeper, Mrs. Dawson,” he introduced them, and after Eliza exchanged a polite greeting with the older woman, the Duke spoke once more. “Miss Graham’s horse needs immediate attention. Please have one of the grooms see to it. As for Miss Graham herself, she’s to be given tea and refreshments in the parlor. No one is to question her yet. I’ll be conducting the interview myself.”
Mrs. Dawson’s eyebrows rose fractionally, but she nodded, clearly a bit confused. “Of course, Your Grace.”
The Duke turned back to Eliza and bowed, actually bowed, as though she were a lady and not a woman seeking employment as a maid. The gesture made her cheeks heat as they turned pink.
“Miss Graham, I’ll see you shortly. Please, make yourself comfortable in my home.”
Then he was gone, striding into the house with the easy confidence of a man who owned everything in sight.
Eliza stood frozen on the gravel drive, her thoughts spinning.
“Miss Graham?” Mrs. Dawson’s voice called, which was not unkind, with a note of expectation in it. “If you’ll follow me.”
Eliza forced herself to nod and move.
Here goes nothing.
The inside of Kirkhammer Hall was even more magnificent than the exterior, which Eliza thought was impossible. She tried not to gape as Mrs. Dawson led her through a vast entrance hall with soaring ceilings, marble floors, delicate tapestries, and portraits lining the walls. Everything gleamed like it had been freshly wiped, polished wood, crystal chandeliers, silver sconces. It wasthe kind of house Eliza had visited before, in her old life. The kind of house where she’d been a guest, not a servant.
She swallowed hard and kept her eyes forward.
The parlor was a smaller room, though small was relative at Kirkhammer. It was decorated in shades of tasteful cream and gold, a far cry from the ostentatious gowns her mother had paraded her around in. She reveled in the neutral tones and looked about as sunlight streamed through tall windows. She took a few steps toward them and admired how they overlooked the gardens and, beyond them, the sapphire sea. A fire crackled in the hearth and a plush settee faced it.
“Please, sit,” Mrs. Dawson said, her tone softening slightly. “I’ll have tea brought in.”
“Thank you,” Eliza murmured.
Mrs. Dawson left, and Eliza sank onto the settee, her legs suddenly weak when met with such a comfortable seat. She pressed her hands together to stop them from shaking.
She was safe. For now, at least. The Duke hadn’t recognized her. He’d hired her… or was going to hire her. She had a place to stay, away from London, away from her parents, away from Lord Whitfield. She just had to keep her head down, keep her secrets, and hope that no one looked too closely at her.
A maid arrived with tea and a tray of sandwiches, biscuits, and small cakes with jam.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, then poured herself a cup with trembling hands.
The tea was excellent, far better than anything she’d had at the inn, and she drank it slowly, letting the warmth settle her cool nerves. She was just reaching for a biscuit when a burst of laughter echoed from the hallway.
“Come on, faster!”
Two small figures darted past the open parlor door to reveal two identical boys, with dark curls and bright, mischievous blue eyes. They skidded to a halt when they saw her, staring with open curiosity.
Eliza blinked. Then, hesitantly, she raised her hand and waved. Both boys grinned and waved back enthusiastically.
“You’re really pretty,” the bolder of the two boys said. “We heard all about the mysterious new maid that came with Uncle Morgan in the carriage.”
“The other servants were talking about it,” the shyer boy said.
