Page 27

Laura woke before the maid came to draw the curtains, her eyes blinking open to pale, gray light and the unfamiliar plasterwork overhead. For a moment, she lay still, then lifted a hand to her lips. They felt swollen and slightly tender.

Yes, it really happened, she groaned inwardly.

She rolled onto her belly and pulled the eiderdown over her head, as if it might somehow ward off the memory of the kiss. She closed her eyes and pictured the plaster molding on the ceiling, but her mind kept wandering back to Nathaniel’s hand on her jaw, the low, rough sound he had made just before his lips met hers.

Her face warmed at the memory.

She rolled onto her back and pressed her palms flat against her cheeks, as though she might hold the blush in.

“Get it together,” she muttered, then threw off the covers. “It is time to start the day.”

Washing up did nothing to help. Neither did dressing. She took twice as long over the buttons of her bodice, her fingers oddly clumsy.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” Sarah greeted as she entered. “You are already dressed! My, you must have been up early.”

“I could not rest,” Laura sighed.

“Well, would you prefer your hair pinned up tight on the sides or a bit looser today?” Sarah asked, guiding her to the vanity stool and picking up a brush.

“Pinned up tightly, please,” Laura answered quickly, as though loose hair might somehow invite more trouble. “Thank you.”

Sarah arranged her hair in a style that flattered the curve of her cheekbones.

“If you do not need anything else, I will go about my chores,” Sarah said as she gathered up some linens and walked toward the door. “And if you don’t mind my asking…”

“What is it, Sarah?” Laura prompted, her cheeks warming as if the maid could read her thoughts.

“Are you all right this morning? You have been quiet. Not that you must speak to me! Oh, dear…” Sarah winced.

“I appreciate your concern,” Laura said with a smile, for she really did like her. “I confess I did not sleep well, but all is fine.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Sarah nodded, then off she went.

By the time Laura reached the stairs, she had rehearsed and discarded at least four different expressions to wear if she happened to pass Nathaniel in the corridor.

Composed. Indifferent. Faintly amused, as though the kiss had meant nothing at all. Each one fell apart the moment she pictured his face. By the second landing, she had resolved not to think of him until circumstances forced it.

But circumstances, she suspected, would not wait long.

She could faintly hear the low murmur of his voice from somewhere downstairs. She focused on the sound, and realized he was giving instructions to a footman.

I need a distraction.

She held onto that thought.

She needed an immediate, thoroughly unromantic distraction, something that would keep her hands busy and her mind too full of practical matters to stray back to the taste of him.

Yes, a new wife with no experience managing a household has one obvious remedy.

And so, rather than risk the breakfast room and the very real possibility of his eyes finding hers across the table, Laura turned toward the back stairs. She walked toward the kitchens, determined to learn how the place ran and where, if anywhere, she might yet learn to fit inside it without involving her husband.

She found Mrs. Holt in the stillroom off the kitchens, counting jars of preserves like a general surveying troops before battle.

“Your Grace.” Mrs. Holt straightened. She was a narrow, gray-haired woman with a severe face, though it softened considerably when she thought no one was looking. “I didn’t expect you downstairs. Is there something I can assist you with? Please know that you only need to ring!”

“I should like to understand how things are run down here, as the new Duchess of Duskwell. From the bottom up, if you’ll have the patience for it.” Laura glanced at the shelves. Half of them were bare. “Are we short on preserves?”