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“Good for you. But the season is approaching and we’re having a full schedule, as usual, you know.”
“Of course.” Social life remained precious for Adelaide. She loved all the pomp and ritual that surrounded it. They were bound to attend together, naturally. He understood it as part of the game and accepted it without question. But social duties did not list as exactly his cup of tea. He wondered what he really enjoyed about his life.
They stared at each other for a couple of seconds. He shrugged slightly. “Good night, Adelaide.”
“Good night, Hugh” She closed the door, without a sound.
He turned, walked to his bed and pulled the cord for his valet.
As he lay in his bed, he thought what the new maid did at that moment.
Sleeping like a log, no less. Sarah had gone through all the tasks given by Mrs Talcott: sweep the floor, dust the carpets, clean furniture, doors, windows from the inside and other minor errands. Being just her second day at her first job as a maid, she ended the day utterly exhausted. She had used to help her aunt clean their small cottage, but nothing had prepared her for this huge city home. So, by the time her head finally found the pillow, her mind’s eye visualized her handsome boss and shut down.
Sarah slept alone in her cubicle of a room. All the other maids slept in pairs, but they counted odd numbers, so Sarah used alone her double cot alone. The maids liked to sleep in pairs because it gave them a chance to chat a little before bedtime.
Weeks passed by and Sarah begun to get used to her daily routine. She got acquainted with the house staff and she found enjoyment in the results of her hard work.
But seeing Lord Hawkmore everyday ate at her mental sanity. His powerful frame and his manly attractiveness shook her insides. Every time she saw him, it felt like she had a shock from lighting. If she crossed with him through the corridors, he would dart her his dark piercing gaze, as if he could read her through and through. She would blush; downcast her eyes and hurry away. But when her eyelids fell at night, the image of him would come clear as water and her brain would weave incongruent fantasies. These counted as unfamiliar feelings. And she did not have a clue as to how to deal with them.
H
is role, her boss. An earl. She had been hearing the other maids’ stories about lords misusing maids, as if these girls existed as mere pawns. The poor girls were used for those lords’ physical needs. If they fell pregnant they got put out by the wives or those children would be raised under the shadow of the real heirs, with disastrous consequences. Sarah wanted none of it for herself. But this seemed like a good job, a fair pay and she needed it.
Hugh felt no better. He could not count the minutes to see her go about her work. And he dreaded it. His guts churned with some alien reaction every time he set his eyes on her. His body would have the strangest impulses, like pulling her to a desert corner and touching her. His hands itched to touch her, just her hands or her forearm. But the need of physical contact with her became more and more overwhelming by the hour.
Maybe he should find a mistress with whom he’d be able to fulfil these strange needs. He had no interest in anyone though. His mind and his body kept tricking him with a bony, plain-faced maid. If he so much as vented to take a downstairs maid as his mistress, he’d be the Ton’s laughingstock. Maids were for lords’ momentary urgencies. No nobleman took them seriously, unless they wanted to be regarded as fools. And these saucy gossips would never be kept away from the ballrooms. He would not throw his centuries-old family name to the rats.
CHAPTER 2
Sarah cleaned the library, admiring the thousands of books in its collection. She’d learned to love books. She went to her village parish school, led by the vicar’s wife. Being a quick study, Mrs Taylor took her student under her protection, in the girl’s thirteenth birthday. Mrs Taylor taught her the rudiments of Greek and Latin and together they read the classics, learned sciences, geography and mathematics. Sarah loved to study. There were always new horizons to be uncovered. Her fascination with the books enchanted Mrs Taylor. The vicar’s wife showed more disappointed than Sarah when the girl, at sixteen, had to move to her aunt’s upon her parents’ death. Even though Sarah could not formally further her education, she would constantly exchange missives with Mrs Taylor about books and the discussions they evoked.
She heard the door open and her blood froze. Nobody opened the door without knocking, except him. Sarah faced the shelves, right next the rare books cabinet. She turned abruptly and curtsied. “My lord.” Her eyes downcast, her hands clasped, her shoulders bent, she appeared meekness personified.
The sight of her unchained a whole string of reactions in him, all of them concentrated in his middle. His blood rushed and his breath out of his grasp. He tried to take a hold of himself. But it seemed rather difficult.
“I-I can finish it later, my lord.” She started pacing to the door.
“Who gave you permission to leave?” His ruddiness serving to cover his too hoarse voice.
At that, she raised her head and their eyes met. Looking at her dark-brown eyes almost defeated him. They were acquiescent, submissive. She looked like a dove in the wolf’s den. And she would not very far from being right.
“I am sorry, my lord.” She felt herself tremble; her body stopped obeying her mind. It felt like her motor coordination totally left her.
“Just continue with whatever you were doing.” His hoarse voice came in too silky a command. He hurriedly sat at his desk to prevent himself from doing something foolish, like lacing her by her narrow waist.
She turned, took the cloth she would let on the shelf and carried on dusting the tomes in jerky movements. Her eyes lit with the recognition of the books that strolled by her eyes. And then Hugh saw the brightness behind the submission. He concluded she must be more intelligent than she appeared to be. His eyes went over her uniformed body. No inch of skin showed. Comfortable working boots, stockings, ankle length dress, apron, cap. Then his eyes focused on the singular piece of her body he could really see: the nape of her neck, between her immaculate cap and the dull dress’ neckline. Milky skin, lean. It seemed so smooth! She looked so petite, five feet two tall, maybe.
“Where have you worked before?” Talking would distract his unruly thoughts.
She turned to him, downcast eyes. “I am fresh from the country, my lord.”
“Is that so?” Petite, bony, plain. “What did you do there?” And what did he see in her?
“I helped my aunt to sell the cakes she made, my lord.” He towered over her even from a distance. She felt hot all over.
“Does she bake tasty cakes?” Her waist so narrow, he could circle it with his fingers.
She smiled faintly at the recollection. “Yes, my lord.” Her head tilted. “At least the neighbours liked it!”
