Letitia stumbled back. She scarcely even cared if she lost her footing on this slick floor. She just needed to get away from him.
“Howdareyou, sir!” she gasped. She didn’t wait for his answer; she turned and fled back the way she had come, her bag no longer heavy in her hand now that she had devastation and disgust spurring her on. She rushed back into the street, not stopping until she found another hackney that she could scarcely afford. It was only when she was safe, alone in the carriage, hurtling back toward the little flat she shared with Sarah, that Letitia buried her face in her hands and let out a little shriek of anger and dismay.
What was wrong with these bloody gentlemen? Why were they such disgusting creatures, determined to bully, coerce, and abuse? They all had everything in the world—money, influence, security. Most of them even had a mistress or two, tucked away somewhere. And yet, they all seemed to find their enjoyment inpursuing girls like her—regular, everyday girls who just wanted to earn a goddamn living bloody wage!
By the time she’d made it back to the flat, her horror had transformed into anger, which was more pleasant to bear.
There was nothing else for it. She would spend today having a nice seethe, would complain to Sarah about unreliable nobles until she was blue in the face, and then tomorrow she would try again. She still had the Lightholders’ letter of reference—likely her most valuable possession, at this point—and shewouldfind another post.
She kept telling herself this. She would keep repeating it until it felt true.
But first, she had to tell Sarah what had happened.
Yet, as Letitia let herself into their tiny shared flat, she heard something unexpected: Sarah’s laughter, quickly stifled, followed by the low rumble of a man’s voice.
It had been an extraordinarily trying morning, but despite everything, Letitia was impressed. Did Sarah have a beau? If so, she’d wasted no time in inviting him once Letty was gone, though why she would keep him a secret, Letitia had no idea…
“You,” she said flatly as she turned the corner to see not an eligible tradesman or shopkeeper’s apprentice, but rather the Duke of Rutley.
He had made himself quite at home, she noted with a flash of irritation. He and Sarah were seated at their small table, a pot of tea between them. The smile on Sarah’s face faded when she saw Letitia and her expression.
“Letty!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here? I told poor Mr. Swifton that he had just missed you, but here you are. What has happened?”
“Poor Mr. Swifton, is it?” Letitia demanded, her eyes narrowed at the duke.
He spread his hands in a gesture of innocence. She barely held back her snort of disbelief. He did not seem at all put out at having been caught doing… whatever it was that he was doing.
“I confess, Miss Greystone, that though I did not lie, precisely, when I gave you my name, I might have misled you a bit,” he said this with a grand air of apology.
Sarah, clearly baffled, looked between the duke and Letitia.
“That’s the Duke of Rutley,” Letty said flatly.
Sarah’s eyes widened, and she appeared ready to leap to her feet, but the duke motioned for her to stay. Sarah froze halfway between sitting and standing, clearly torn between obedience and showing proper respect.
“You must forgive me, Miss Greystone,” the duke went on, sounding properly contrite. “But I feared that you would put yourself to far too much trouble if you knew my title.”
“Indeed, I would have,” Sarah scoffed, sounding almost offended that it was in doubt.
The duke shot her a charming smile, and Sarah sank back into her chair as if mesmerized. Letitia rolled her eyes, not that either of them was paying attention.
“But I am so pleased that you didn’t,” he said. “I have been having a lovely time talking with you. But now that she has returned, I really must speak with Miss Knightley about our business matter.”
This smooth transition seemed to remind Sarah that Letitia was here and that, indeed, she was not supposed to be here.
She blinked. “Right. Letty, what happened?”
Letitia was starting to suspect thatwhat had happenedwas tall, aristocratic, and currently sitting in one of the two chairs in the flat. She held his gaze as she spoke.
“I was sacked.” She didn’t mince her words. “Without reason. I had not even met the children, so I am quite uncertain what cause there evencouldbe.”
The duke didn’t flinch or blink. He took a slow sip of his tea.
“I am certain that anyone who saw you interact with the children would never think of letting you slip from their grasp,” he said coolly.
Oh, Letitia wanted tostranglehim. But murdering a peer would no doubt distress poor Sarah, so she just gave him the thinnest glimmer of a smile.
“How kind,” she said flatly.
