Lizzie gasped. “Really?”
“Really. I once had to clean wine stains out of the drawing room carpet at three in the morning because someone decided it would be amusing to juggle bottles.”
“That’s terrible,” Lizzie breathed.
“That’s His Grace,” Jane said dryly. “Charming, generous, intelligent… and completely incapable of taking anything seriously. He’ll never change.”
“He seems different now,” Mary said thoughtfully. “With the boys here, I mean. More… responsible.”
“Give it time,” Jane said. “Leopards don’t change their spots. The boys will be gone within the month.”
Eliza stood frozen outside the door, her hands clutching the linen basket.
The Duke of Kirkhammer is… a rake.
Eliza realized that he was a man who threw lavish parties and entertained women and lived as though nothing mattered. It shouldn’t have surprised her. Men of his class often lived that way, taking what they wanted, answering to no one.
Somehow, it did surprise her. He’d been kind to her. Generous. He’d hired her without references, paid her more than she deserved, and hadn’t asked questions he must have known shewouldn’t answer honestly. And yet, according to his own staff, he was reckless. Irresponsible. A man who treated life like a game.
Eliza forced herself to move, slipping past the sitting room before anyone noticed her. She was used to moving quietly. She retrieved the linens and hurried back to her duties, her thoughts churning.
It doesn’t matter what kind of man the Duke is.
She was here to work. To stay hidden. To survive. Like a mantra. His personal life was none of her concern. But as she climbed the stairs, she couldn’t quite shake the image of him with his young nephews. Perhaps there was more to His Grace than his reputation suggested. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking.
That evening, Eliza was in the linen room, folding sheets, when Miss Winslow appeared in the doorway.
“Oh, good. I was hoping I’d find you here.”
Eliza looked up. “Is everything all right, Miss Winslow?”
“Yes, perfectly fine. I just wanted to thank you again for being so gracious with the boys earlier. They’ve been rather out of sorts lately, and it was nice to see them laughing. Even if it was over a puddle.”
“They’re sweet,” Eliza said. “It was no trouble at all.”
Miss Winslow stepped into the room and lowered her voice.
“Between you and me, I think they’re struggling more than they let on. They miss their uncle and aunt terribly, and His Grace, for all his good intentions, is rather… inexperienced with children.”
Eliza smiled faintly, as she set down a sheet. “I gathered as much.”
“He’s trying, though. I’ll give him that,” Miss Winslow sighed. “It’s just difficult. Arthur, especially, has been asking when they can go back to France, to see familiar places and faces. And I don’t know what to tell him.”
“It must be hard for them,” Eliza said quietly. “Losing their parents. Being uprooted from their home.”
“It is. But they’re resilient. Children often are.” Miss Winslow paused. “You’re very good with them, you know. If you ever have a spare moment and want to help out in the nursery, I wouldn’t say no. It may give you a break from this as well. I am sure Mrs. Dawson wouldn’t mind.”
Eliza’s heart warmed at the invitation. “I’d like that. If Mrs. Dawson allows it.”
“Leave that to me, I’ll speak to her.” Miss Winslow smiled. “I have a feeling we’re going to be good friends, Ellie.”
“I do hope so,” Eliza said.
And she meant it. It had been so long since she’d had a friend. Since Abigail.
Something like hope bloomed in her chest. A hope she knew Abigail would want her to be reminded of. Maybe, just maybe, she could build a new life here. A different life. A life where she didn’t have to be afraid.
Late that night, Eliza lay in her narrow bed, staring at the ceiling and counting the small cracks to pass the time. Her thoughts drifted to the boys. Then Miss Winslow. Then to the gossip she’d overheard about His Grace.
