Page 16 of Maid for the Duke

Shaking her head, Amelie reached for the cloth again, determined to scrub the sides even though they were sparkling clean. She needed heavy physical labour; nothing else would take her mind off her predicament.

What she feared, what she had spent all morning worrying about, was being dismissed. If she lost this position she would lose her ability to pay for everything her sisters and brother needed. Soon they would all be homeless, reduced to begging in the streets. The very thought made her stomach roil with nausea.

She shook her head. These last couple of weeks had shown her the duke was a reasonable man, even a kind man. Surely he wouldn’t destroy four lives because of one stupid mistake?

There was a creak above her and Amelie glanced up, her heart thumping in her chest. There was no more delaying the inevitable; in a few minutes Lord Beescroft would emerge downstairs and she would learn her fate.

His descent was slow, each step on the narrow staircase seeming to take for ever, and Amelie felt like a nervous wreck by the time he reached the hallway. She had to fight the urge to flee, to run out of the back door and not look back.

She took the bread from the oven and busied herself with removing it from its tin, trying to ignore how her hands shook. She almost dropped the steaming loaf twice, but by the time it was sitting on the wooden breadboard, cooling by the open window, Lord Beescroft still had not appeared.

She peeked out of the kitchen. Although she had not wanted the moment of reckoning to come, it was torture waiting to find out her fate.

The Duke was standing at the bottom of the stairs, a book in his hand, seemingly engrossed in whatever he was reading.

Amelie blinked, unable to move for a second. Here she was panicking about her future and the Duke was calmly reading about the seabirds of Scotland.

As she stared at him, he glanced up and gave her a soft smile.

‘Good morning, Amelie,’ he said.

‘Good morning.’

‘Something smells delicious. Have you been baking?’

‘Yes, a fresh loaf of bread.’

‘I think there is still some strawberry jam left. I would enjoy some warm bread and jam for my breakfast, if that is not too much trouble.’

It was the most routine, mundane conversation she had ever had. Working hard not to gawp at him, Amelie nodded and retreated back into the kitchen, her head spinning. Was he going to pretend nothing had happened—continue on as they had been before?

She felt a moment of disappointment and then chastised herself. It would be the best outcome. She would keep her job and her sisters and brother would continue to be kept safe.

‘Nothing more can ever happen,’ she whispered to herself, trying to rein in all the impossible dreams that had been floating around the periphery of her worries. Of course the Duke wasn’t going to declare his undying love and devotion to her, hurry her to a church and insist the local vicar marry them as soon as possible. He was a duke. She was a housemaid. Even in her previous life she would not have been considered remotely suitable for socialising with a man of his status.

Yet they had kissed. Amelie closed her eyes. It was such an unlikely thing to have happened; she could not quite believe it.

‘Amelie,’ the Duke called from the parlour where he had taken his normal seat. She felt her heart thump again in her chest and wondered if this was how it was going to be from now on—an awful mix of nervousness and anticipation every time he spoke. She took the time to compose herself before walking through to the parlour.

‘I’m just waiting for the kettle then I will pour you a cup of tea and bring your breakfast through, Your Grace,’ she said, her voice as level and devoid of emotion as it could be.

‘Thank you,’ he said, motioning to the other seat at the table. ‘Please sit down for a moment, Amelie.’

Amelie felt her pulse quicken. This was the moment in which he was going to dismiss her. No doubt he would suggest it was for the best, but for Amelie it would be disastrous. She felt the panic well up inside her and realised she could not let him get rid of her without a fight.

‘Please do not dismiss me,’ she said quickly, hating that she was reduced to a position where she had to beg. ‘I have worked hard for you these last couple of weeks, and I think you have been pleased with my work. I have done everything I could to ensure you are able to get on with your writing and your drawing and your research uninterrupted.’

‘Amelie, please…’ Lord Beescroft said, swiping a hand across his forehead.

She shook her head, unable to stop now she had started. ‘I know what happened last night in the garden was a mistake, but I promise nothing like that will ever happen again. I will move around this house so silently, you will not even know I am there. If you so wish, I will lay out your meals and then disappear until you have finished them, returning only to collect the plates. I can be like a ghost.’

‘Amelie…’

‘I will work harder than any other maid.’

He held up a hand to stop her. ‘Amelie,’ he said, his tone firm. Amelie fell silent. ‘I am not going to dismiss you because of last night.’

She felt the bubble of anxiety deflate and her body slump in relief. Only after thirty seconds of silence did she realise Lord Beescroft was looking at her in concern.