“May I take your coat and gloves?” Not meeting her gaze, the butler held out one stiff arm for the articles.
Erienne hurriedly removed both items and handed them to the man, who set them neatly aside before saying, “This way.” He walked like a statue come to life toward two large wooden doors attached to the foyer.
Erienne scrambled behind him to keep up with his long strides, gulping and hoping he hadn’t heard the unattractive noise. No doubt servants in so fine a house didn’t do such vulgar things as gulp. There had been little to gulp about at the Hilltops’ house.
The butler knocked once before pushing open the doors and stepping inside. Erienne followed him and tried not to stare at the gorgeous lady perched on the settee in the center of the room. The woman had curly, black hair that was pinned atop her head. She wore a lovely emerald green gown and a smile brightened her pretty features.
“Your grace,” the butler intoned. “May I present Miss Stone?”
To Erienne’s amazement, the lady stood, hurried over to her, and grasped her hands as if they were reuniting friends. “Miss Stone, I’ve been expecting you. Please, come and sit with me.”
Erienne had no choice but to follow the woman back toward the settee.
“Please do bring tea, Hughes,” the duchess said.
The butler nodded, bowed, and took his leave.
The duchess resumed her seat and patted the space next to her to indicate that Erienne should sit there. Erienne lowered herself as gracefully as possible to the settee and blinked at the duchess. Did great ladies stand and greet potential governesses in such a friendly fashion?
Apparently this one did, but it was entirely unexpected. And to have tea ordered as if they were friends sitting down to gossip? Quite unexpected indeed. Erienne had heard the Duchess of Claringdon was beautiful and lively, but she hadn’t quite expected…this. The lady was beautiful, however. That much was true. Even more so up close. She had two different-colored eyes, one hazel, one blue, and her smile was both friendly and mischievous.
Erienne folded her sweating hands in her lap and watched the pretty duchess carefully.
The grand lady’s next words surprised her. “How old are you, Miss Stone?”
“Pardon?” Surely she’d heard the woman incorrectly.
“I do hope you don’t think I’m being rude,” the duchess continued, “but I wondered if you were near my husband’s age.”
Apprehension skittered along Erienne’s spine. “I turned two and thirty this year, your grace.”
The duchess tapped a manicured finger against her cheek and narrowed her eyes as if deep in thought. “And you come from Brighton, correct? That’s what your letter of recommendation said.”
“Most recently, I came from Shropsbury,” Erienne replied. Brighton? Had Mrs. Griggs mentioned Brighton?
The duchess frowned. “Have you ever been married?”
Erienne furrowed her brow. These weren’t precisely the questions she’d expected when she’d accepted this interview. What did her birthplace or potential marital status have to do with being a governess? “I’m highly qualified, your grace. I spent the last fourteen years with Baron and Lady Hilltop. They wrote me a lovely letter of recommendation. Would you care to see it?”
“Yes. Of course I believe you’re highly qualified as a governess, Miss Stone. It’s just that…”
The butler interrupted the duchess when he stepped into the room with the tea tray. While he went about setting it on the little table and arranging everything just so, Erienne shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Oddly, the duchess never once took her unusual gaze from Erienne’s face, as though the woman found her like some kind of compelling puzzle to be turned this way and that.
“Tea?” the duchess finally asked Erienne, mercifully turning her attention to the tray.
Erienne had never been served tea by a duchess before, but she felt it might be rude to refuse it after the woman had gone to the trouble of having it delivered. “Yes, please?” It emerged as more of a question than a request.
Perhaps fine London households did this sort of thing. Erienne’s friend Rebecca, who worked as Lady Hilltop’s personal maid, had worked in London previously. But Rebecca hadn’t mentioned any of these things. Now that Erienne considered it, however, Rebecca had worked for a viscountess. Perhaps a duchess did things like serve tea to servants. It all seemed quite odd and uncomfortable, however.
The duchess poured Erienne a cup of tea. “Sugar?” she asked.
“Yes, please, one lump.”
“Only one?” The other woman’s eyes widened. She dropped the requested lump into the cup and handed it to Erienne before pouring her own cup and proceeding to drop an inordinate amount of sugar lumps into it. “I adore sugar in my tea,” she explained with a laugh.
“I see that,” Erienne replied, raising her brows. Drat. She could kick herself for such an uninteresting reply.
“Now what was I saying?” The duchess lifted her teacup to her lips and took a sip. “Oh, yes, I asked if you’d ever been married. Have you?”
