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“Oh, yes?” Rebecca murmured faintly.
Evans was a small, dark-haired woman who was dauntingly fashionable. Her panniers were so wide, she could hardly do her duties as maid. Actually, Rebecca was rather terrified of her.
Although the maid seemed to be trying to be friendly. “Perhaps we can go downstairs and rest in the small sitting room? Not in the hallway, of course. A lady should never be seen to hang about waiting for her carriage to arrive.”
“Of course.” Rebecca turned to the door, feeling rather relieved.
“Remember, we mustn’t sit!” her maid caroled after her.
“I wonder if we will be allowed to use the necessary,” Rebecca muttered to herself as she negotiated the stairs in her wide skirts.
She looked about guiltily to see if anyone had overheard her crass remark. The only person she could see was a single footman—the black-haired one—in the downstairs hall, and he stared straight ahead, apparently deaf to all that went on around him. Rebecca blew out a breath of relief. She continued down the stairs without incident until she came to the last step. There she somehow caught her heel on her hem and had a bad moment when she teetered ungracefully until she caught the banister with both hands. She froze, still clutching the wooden ball at the end of the stair banister, and glanced over at the footman. He was now looking at her, one foot forward as if he’d been about to leap to her rescue. When their gazes met, he withdrew his foot and resumed staring forward woodenly.
Oh, how embarrassing! She couldn’t even walk in her own skirts without falling down the stairs in front of the servants. Rebecca carefully placed both feet on the marble hallway and released the banister. She took a moment to smooth her skirts and then walked determinedly toward the doors to her right. The doors were tall and made of dark wood, and the handles were proportionately large. Rebecca grasped one and pulled.
Nothing happened.
Sweat broke out at her hairline. The black-haired footman would think she was an absolute ninny. Why did the man have to be so lovely? It was one thing to make an ass of oneself in front of an old, balding man, and quite another—
He cleared his throat directly behind her.
Rebecca yelped and swung around. The footman’s beautiful green eyes were wide and startled, but he merely said, “If I might, miss?”
He reached around her and pushed open the door.
Rebecca stared past the open door and into the library. Oh, Lord. “Actually, I believe I’ve changed my mind. I’d like the sitting room, please.” And she pointed behind him like a small, slightly backward child.
Fortunately, he didn’t seem to find her at all odd. “Aye, mum.” He pivoted and opened the door across the hall.
Rebecca held her head high and swanned across the hallway, but as she neared the footman, she could see quite plainly that his gaze was not where it should be. She stopped dead and slapped her hands over her bosom.
“It’s too low, isn’t it? I knew I shouldn’t have listened to that maid. She might not mind her boobies hanging out for all to see, but I just can’t—” Her brain suddenly caught up with her mouth. She removed her hands from her bosom and slapped them over her awful, awful, awful mouth.
And then she just stared at the gorgeous black-haired footman, who was staring back at her. There really wasn’t anything else to do, except possibly die right here in her brother’s London town house hallway, and that option, unfortunately, seemed very unlikely at the moment.
Finally, he cleared his throat again. “You’re the fairest lass I’ve ever seen, mum, and in that gown, you look just like a princess, you do.”
Rebecca blinked and cautiously removed her hands. “Really?”
“Swear on me mam’s grave,” he said earnestly.
“Oh, is your mother dead, too?”
He nodded.
“That’s a pity, isn’t it? My mother died when I was born, and I never knew her.”
“Me mam died two years ago this Michaelmas,” he said in a soft kind of burr.
“I’m sorry.”
He merely shrugged. “After me youngest sister was born. Eldest of ten, that’s me.”
She smiled up at him. “You don’t sound like the other servants.”
“That’s because I’m Irish, mum.” His green eyes seemed to twinkle at her.
“Then, why—”
