Chapter Seven
“Ihonestly don’tthink I have ever been given a dress of such quality, Mrs. Smythe.” Louisa stared at herself in the full-length mirror. The black-and-white servant’s dress fit her body like a glove, and the soft material caressed her skin. Something told her she’d never owned such a dress. Happiness bubbled in her chest, for she was the luckiest girl in England. Truly, fate had smiled on her to put her in the Duke of Kenbridge’s path.
Mrs. Smythe grinned wide as she watched Emma comb Louisa’s hair and wind it into a bun before placing a white cap over it. “Is this not so exciting?” Louisa asked the housekeeper. “I’m so very privileged to be a servant in such a household.” Louisa switched her gaze to Emma. “And I thank you for showing me how to fix my hair.”
Emma bobbed her head. “My pleasure, Louisa.”
“His lordship gave me the responsibility to find a place for you here.” Mrs. Smythe beamed. “We shall start you in the kitchen for now.” Her gaze ran over Louisa’s body. “Since you are so fond of the food, I believe that would be the place for you to start.”
Louisa giggled and patted her stomach. “The food here is most delicious, I assure you.”
“You have gained a little weight in a week’s time, I might add, which tells me you were certainly lacking.”
“Indeed I was.” Louisa turned from side to side as she studied her body through the mirror. Why didn’t anything look familiar? Not even wearing a servant’s dress could shake her hidden memories.
“Come. I’ll take you down and introduce you to the kitchen staff.”
Mrs. Smythe led the way, out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Louisa’s steps weren’t as hurried as the other woman because she couldn’t stop admiring the decorations, statues, and paintings along the way. The duke certainly had a lovely home, and so very large. As they passed a room with an open door, she took a quick peek inside. The room stood empty, except for a few furnishings along the walls.A ballroom.
Her thoughts came to a halt as did her footsteps. Yes, indeed this was a ballroom. In fact, even now she could hear the orchestra playing as her mind imagined couples dancing and sweeping around the room like a flutter of colorful butterflies.
She closed her eyes as the vision grew. A little girl, standing back, watching…dreaming. The deep laughter of an older man as he picked her up in his arms and swung her around, making her feel like a princess. The image of his face was fuzzy, but he had curly blond hair and a square jaw. The little girl’s voice whispered the word,Father.
Louisa snapped alert, her heart beating frantically. A throb in her forehead began, and the harder she tried to remember, the worse the pain became. Had she remembered something from her past?
Realizing she’d been daydreaming, a sharp stab of panic pierced through her.Imbecile! Stop laggin’ behind and get to work or ye’ll be sorry!The warning echoed through her head, but it didn’t come from her voice. The man’s raspy tone chilled her bones and quickened her step to catch upwith the housekeeper. She knew as sure as she breathed that daydreaming was not an option.
But why would she think about being in a ballroom? Apparently, she must have been a servant for a wealthy family and had witnessed the father dancing with his young daughter. She frowned. If only she could remember her own family. Perhaps it wasn’t wise to remember. Because of the scars on her back, she knew she hadn’t had a life of luxury—or a happy one.
Determined to make His Grace proud, she squared her shoulders and quickened her pace.
As she turned a corner, still trying to reach Mrs. Smythe, she walked into the muscular figure of a man. His large hands grabbed her shoulders to keep her from falling and she looked up into the startled eyes of Kenbridge. His rugged appearance and more-than-handsome face caused her to gasp. She hadn’t seen him since he’d visited her that night in her room, and she sorely missed looking at him these past several days.
He ran his gaze over her as he stepped back. A smile pulled at his lips. “Louisa, it’s good to see you looking so well. I’m relieved to know you are up and about.”
Quickly, she curtsied. “Forgive me for not seeing you—until I ran into you, that is.” She grinned. “Mrs. Smythe is taking me to meet the kitchen staff. That is where she wants me to start working.”
“Splendid. I’m happy to see you are starting off right.” He motioned his hand toward the end of the hallway. “Do not let me keep you.”
She curtsied again. “Thank you, Your Grace.” Although she didn’t want to take her eyes off him, she must. Pining away for the lord of the manor wasn’t healthy.
Pulling herself away from his company was hard. She’d miss talking to him and seeing his sparkling eyes, and a smile tug at his tempting mouth. Yet it wasn’t her station in life to becomehis friend…only his servant. Whatever was in her past, she did know this—he would never be more than her employer.
She hurried down the hall and met Mrs. Smythe just as she entered the kitchen. As the housekeeper made the introductions, Louisa listened closely to catch everyone’s name. Most had a French name. She should have suspected the duke would only hire French cooks. Francois, the head chef, stuck his nose in the air as if he didn’t want to be bothered by Louisa. She wanted to slap him for his rudeness.
“Nice to meet you, Monsieur Francois,” she greeted as politely as she could.
The overly large cook grumbled and turned away from her, back to the stove.“Petite sotte. Pourquoi c’est moi qui doit être sa nourice?”
She hitched a quick breath. For the nerve of that man! How dare he think he’d have to watch over her like a governess? Louisa huffed and planted her hands on her hips and replied,“Peut-être c’est moi qui est assignée de garder des coquins insipides.”
Gasps exploded around the room, especially from Mrs. Smythe. Louisa had actually spoken in French… hadn’t she? Yes, she had!
Snapping her mouth closed, she glanced around at the other servants who looked at her with wide, questioning eyes. Heat crept up her face and she knew some of them had understood her words. She’d actually called the cook an insipid fop. Oh, the humiliation…
“Land sakes, my dear, you spoke French.” Pure wonder shone in Mrs. Smythe’s eyes.
“I know.” Louisa hiccupped a laugh. “And what’s even stranger is that I know what I said.” She met Francois’s accusing glare. She was not about to apologize, either.
