“There now.” The maid shut the door behind them. “You sit right here an’ let me begin on yer hair, miss. An’ I beg yer, put down the vase afore y’ do something rash. There’s no one here as means yer any harm.”
She gave Charles a kindly smile, and suddenly the previous night came rushing back.
Charles was in her grandparents’ house—la maison d’grand-père et grand-mère—where, as a girl, she’d learned to speak French.
She was too appalled by this realization to utter serious protest, so she simply allowed herself to enjoy the fact that someone else now tamed her hair. It had been a long while since Ellie had done the honor, and Charles stared at herself in the mirror—at a wan, thin face which stared back, dark circles beneath her eyes. Events were beginning to return with more clarity now, and she was shocked Lord Wells had bothered to seek her at all. Why had Ellie told him where she’d gone? It felt like a betrayal, yet knowing Eleanor, fear had likely gotten the better of her.
And Charles had to admit, she’d not done well for herself since returning to London.
Yet why the devil had Wells lied to her in the carriage last night? He didn’t love her; he simply needed a wife. No doubt he was still trying to appease his mother, and he could try allhe liked, because she had no intention of giving him what he wanted. He may very well need her, butshedid not need him.
“You’ve ever such lovely hair, miss.” The girl began to prattle. “Cook said yer mam had the very same hair, y’ look just like her, she says. An’ Cook says she remembers yer an’ yer sister comin’ for Christmas near every year when you was little, though I’ve not been here long enough t’ . . .”
Charles tuned the maid out, closing her eyes. Her conversation with Lord Wellesley still swirled in her mind, while the thought of facing her grandparents filled her with dread. Would she were anywhere but here! Thoughherewas a step up from the Wayward Inn, or God forbid, Madame LeBrecht’s house of ill repute. How the devil Wells had found her there she’d no idea, nor did she wish to know. She’d demand an explanation from him eventually, but not today. Today she must deal withgrand-père et grand-mère.
She pushed his lordship from her thoughts.
“Tell me your name again?” she asked the maid. “Forgive me if you already did; I fear I am in shock still.” She tried a faint smile on the girl.
“Jeanie, miss. Jeanie Trengove.” The girl bobbed a curtsy. “I’m t’ be yer lady’s maid, miss.”
“Well, Jeanie Trengove, you shall have to tell me who’s who and what’s what in this house so I don’t wear out my welcome with the staff. I should hate to?—”
“Why, miss!” the girl burst. “Y’ couldn’t if y’ tried! ’Tiswewho mustn’t offend yerself.”
Charles remained firm. “Jeanie, I was housekeeper before arriving here, and most recently shop girl. I’ve been in service long enough to know what work like yours entails.”
The maid’s eyes grew wide. “Y’ can’t mean it, miss. Y’ can’t have been no shop girl nor housekeeper, not as Lady Enright’s granddaughter.”
“Lord and Lady Enright disowned me and my sister; how else should I expect to make my way if not by gainful work?” Charles decided to plant a seed in the girl’s head, in hopes it would grow. Gossip usually did.
“Only whyever would the Countess do such a thing, miss?” The girl looked genuinely confused.
“Because my mother married a commoner, Jeanie, a mere soldier.” Old anger rose in her throat. “There’s no love lost between myself and my grandparents. ’Tis the reason you found me in the hall with a vase clutched in my hand. I’d not put it past Lady Enright to lock me up and throw away the key now that?—”
“Miss!” Jeanie clapped a hand over her mouth.
Charles knew she had the girl on her side. “Now don’t tell a soul upstairs what I just told you, Jeanie, but tell every servant below stairs how the Earl and Countess of Denbigh may be blood, but to me they are dead, just as sure as my sister and I were dead to them when they threw us out onto the street.”
Jeanie looked fit to explode at this, no doubt bursting to tell all she’d just heard. Charles was satisfied she’d started a rumor that would not only reach her grandparents’ ears, but hopefully affect their reputation. They feared scandal more than anything else.
And deserved no less for their actions.
“Jeanie, I’d love some breakfast yet before I leave, and if the same dear cook I once knew is still here, I’ll kiss her cheek in gratitude. In fact, I’ll dine below stairs with the rest of staff rather than where I’m not wanted. Can you fetch me some clothes first? I’d borrow a dress from you if you think it would fit.”
“O’ course, miss.” She bobbed another curtsy. “Quick as I can I’ll return, just you wait here.”
“Thank you, Jeanie.” Charles smiled gratefully at the girl. There was no better way to know a house than to befriend itsservants, and she would need a friend or two to escape her grandparents’ house again.
Wells sat at his father’s bedside, pleased the Duke was in good spirits. He’d informed him of his rescue of Miss Merrinan, quizzed him on how to knight Cuthbert, and then regaled him with the story of the south wall, of his own labors there and how they’d lost a man that fateful day, not to mention several limbs. His father had listened, rapt.
“Son,” he told him, “you’ve done right to restore the Abbey. Always did admire your gumption, your willingness to put in the work.”
“I fearMamanmight disagree, sir.”
“Of course she would, it’s her job to disagree. You’re just like her, after all.”
Wells smiled. “Are you saying you regard us both with despair, sir?”
