“Oh goodness,” Eliza said, stifling a laugh.
“Lord Arthur! Lord Philip!” A woman’s voice called from somewhere down the hall. “Come back here at once!”
A moment later, a woman in a sensible gray dress appeared, slightly breathless. She took in the scene, the boys, Eliza, the open door, and her expression shifted to one of mortification.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, hurrying forward to herd the boys away from the door. “They’re supposed to be upstairs. Come along, you two. Leave the poor woman in peace.”
The boys giggled but obeyed, allowing themselves to be shepherded back down the hallway. Their voices faded, along with the woman’s gentle scolding.
Eliza stared after them, a strange pang of disappointment settling in her chest.
The Duke has children. Of course he does. Surely a man as rich and handsome as him is married.
He had a wife, a family, a life that didn’t involve whatever curiosity he’d shown her in the carriage.
Not that it mattered. She was here to work. To hide. To survive. Nothing more. She turned back to her tea and forced herself to drink.
A short while later, Mrs. Dawson returned. “Miss Graham, His Grace will see you now.”
Eliza set down her cup and stood, smoothing her skirts. Her heart was racing again.
This was it. The interview. If she failed, if he saw through her lies, she’d be back on the road with nowhere to go.
She followed Mrs. Dawson through the house, down another long corridor, until they stopped before a heavy oak door. Mrs. Dawson knocked once, then opened it.
“Miss Graham, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Dawson. That will be all.”
Eliza stepped inside. The door closed behind her gently, leaning against it for a moment as she looked around.
The Duke’s study was spacious, but less ornate than the rest of the house. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound volumes. A large desk dominated the center of the room, and behind it sat the Duke, looking far more relaxed than any peer, she had ever met. He’d even removed his coat and loosened his cravat, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.
He looked younger like this. Less imposing. Though no less unsettling as she took in the cut lines of his strong forearms. He was so muscled, so strong, so tall.
“Miss Graham,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from his desk and bringing her back to reality. “Please, sit.”
Eliza hesitated, wanting to admire him for a moment more, then obeyed, perching on the edge of the chair.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said, folding her hands in her lap and kept her gaze lowered.
“Look at me, please.”
She raised her eyes reluctantly. He was watching her with that same steady, unreadable gaze he had held her in earlier that day. She took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to regain her composure.
“Let us begin, then,” he said. “Tell me about yourself.”
Eliza swallowed.
Just as you practiced… keep it light, keep it short.
“There’s not much to tell, Your Grace,” she replied softly. “I’m seeking employment, and I heard that Kirkhammer Hall might have a position available.”
“From whom?”
“I saw it in the local paper, Your Grace.”
“And before? Where were you employed?”
