“Pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady,” Danielle replied, biting her lip and watching the lady for any signs of disapproval.
“The agency tells me you come with excellent references,” Lady Daphne said.
“Oui.I mean, y-yes.” Danielle hated the stutter in her speech but she found that now that she was confronted with Lady Daphne, she was quite full of nerves. If she didn’t secure this position, everything would be ruined.
Lady Daphne pulled a bell cord and a finely dressed butler soon appeared in the doorway. The lady prettily requested a tea tray. Tea served for a meeting about a maid position? Obviously, the viscountess treated her servants kindly. Danielle liked that a lot. She expelled a bit of her pent-up breath. Working in a fine London town house wouldn’t be theworstthing she’d ever had to do, by far. Perhaps it might even be… enjoyable.
“You’ve previously worked for Lady Birmingham in Brighton?” Lady Daphne asked, studying her closely.
Is that what they’d said? “Er, yes, my lady,” Danielle forced herself to reply. She squirmed in her chair. She wasn’t used to being watched so carefully. Normally, members of the aristocracy tended to barely look at servants. They certainly didn’t stare at them with an intensity that made Danielle believe Lady Daphne truly cared about her. It was unnerving.
“And you had to resign your position there… why?” Lady Daphne leaned toward her, waiting for her answer as if on tenterhooks.
Danielle plucked at the folds of her skirt. “I need to be in London, my lady. My mother… is ill.” No doubt this fine lady didn’t care a whit about her mother’s illness but it was the truth and Danielle had learned long ago that the more she could follow the truth, the better.
“You have the loveliest French accent.”
Danielle blinked three times before she could conjure up an appropriate reply to that surprising compliment. “Thank you, my lady. Not everyone in London is as charmed by it as you are.”
“Nonsense. The wars are long since over and everyone knows the French are famous for their good taste in hair design and clothing. French lady’s maids are all the rage in Mayfair these days.”
Danielle blinked again. She should have guessed as much when Grimaldi had asked her to play up her Frenchness. “I’m terribly glad to hear that, my lady,” she said before cursing herself for saying something so common. But the viscountess’s twinkling laughter indicated the lady didn’t disapprove in the least.
“You lived in Paris, did you not?” Lady Daphne asked.
“Oui, madame.I was born there.”
“Why did you decide to come to England?”
Danielle was spared from answeringthatquestion by the arrival of the tea tray. The butler marched over, his back completely straight, his white gloves pristine. He set the tray on the gleaming rosewood table in front of them.
“Thank you, Henry, that will be all.” Lady Daphne nodded at the man and he retreated from the room. The smile that rested in the crinkles of his eyes as he left, however, informed Danielle that he liked his employer a great deal. She stared after his straight-backed perfection as he left the room. Was Henry his first name or his last?
Lady Daphne poured the tea in the most dainty, ladylike manner imaginable, and Danielle lapsed into a momentary daydream where she pictured herself dumping over the entire pot and shattering the teacups. She was skilled at a great many things, but being dainty and ladylike were not among them. It would be a miracle if she were to be actually offered this position. Not to mention she would doubtless be sacked within the sennight, but first things first. She must beofferedthe position before she could be terminated from it.
She took the porcelain teacup Lady Daphne offered, fingering the little roses painted along the rim. The cup and saucer alone were probably worth more than she’d earned in a month’s time in her previous life.
“Tell me,” she said, trying to stop the shaking of her hand on the cup. It would not do to spill tea onto the immaculate carpet. “What exactly are you looking for in a lady’s maid?”
Lady Daphne’s teacup stopped, arrested halfway to her mouth, and she laughed again. “Why, I’m not certain I’ve ever had anyone ask me so directly.”
Danielle silently cursed herself.Maudit.She should not have asked that question. Lady Daphne would think her too forward.
“I’ve heard the French are quite direct. I like that,” Lady Daphne continued.
Danielle blinked again, her teacup arrested halfway tohermouth. “You do?”
“Yes, quite a lot. We English are often too polite for our own good. I admire someone who can say what they mean. For instance, what do you think of my hair?”
Warning bells sounded in the back of Danielle’s mind. She brought the teacup to her lips and took a long sip while she considered exactly how to answer such a delicate question. Lady Daphne’s hair was certainly a lovely color and the lady herself was a beauty, but her hair was a bit on the frumpish side, coiled around her head in a knot that did little to show off her fine features.
“I so admire your chignon,” Lady Daphne said, pronouncing the French word perfectly. “I can never seem to get my hair to do that. And Miss Anderson, well, she was quite sweet, but not the most adept at arranging hair, I’m afraid.”
“Miss Anderson?” More time bought.
“My former maid.”
Danielle set down her teacup and rubbed her hands together. The best answer to Lady Daphne’s question, she’d decided, was no answer. Danielle was not one to spend time on her hair or wear fine clothing, but she supposed having grown up in France, she did have a certainje ne sais quoiwhen it came to style, as many French women did. She had her aunt Madeline to thank for teaching her such things. “Would you like me to show you my favorite upsweep?” she asked, smiling conspiratorially at Lady Daphne.
