Page 17 of Maid for the Duke

‘I realise we have not spent much time together, but I assure you I am not the sort of man who punishes others for his own misdeeds,’ he said stiffly. The familiarity that had been building between them, the comfortable companionship, had disappeared. ‘I am not going to send you penniless to the streets because we both had a lapse in judgement.’

Despite her best efforts, Amelie could not utter a word; instead she just nodded.

‘It might be foolish to suggest we forget last night ever happened,’ the duke said, his eyes flicking down to her lips for a fraction of a second, ‘But I suggest we endeavour to continue as normal and ensure such madness does not consume us again.’

Again Amelie nodded. It was interesting that he was not distancing himself from culpability, nor blaming her entirely. Lord Beescroft was taking responsibility for his part in their indiscretion the night before, but not absolving her completely.

‘Does that sound agreeable, Amelie?’

‘Yes, Your Grace.’

‘Good. Now, what I actually wanted to talk to you about was our agreement to return to London for a few days next week. I trust a visit over the weekend would be agreeable?’

‘Yes,’ Amelie said, shocked by the change in direction. ‘I am happy to go whenever is convenient for you.’ She felt her heart swell at the thought of seeing little Marie, Harriet and Charles.

‘I will arrange our transport. There are a few matters I wish to check on myself, so I will return to London with you. We will depart on Thursday and plan to return Sunday afternoon, in time for the new week.’

‘Thank you.’ She had to stop herself from reaching out to squeeze his hand in gratitude. The Duke was clearly a man of his word—he had honoured his side of their agreement completely—but she had wondered if he might try to postpone this visit back to London. No doubt it would be an inconvenience to him. His time here in Cambridge was so limited and he was already working every hour he could. Amelie had seen his progress, surreptitiously flicking through the pages of the manuscript on his desk when she cleaned and tidied his bedroom. The book was taking shape nicely—there were already over fifty pages of drawings and annotations—but the task Lord Beescroft had decided to undertake was huge and she was not sure he would finish in four months. Anyone else would extend their stay, but she doubted the Duke would want to step away from his duties any longer than the planned time. She suspected he already felt as though he was neglecting his responsibilities.

‘Good. That is settled, then. We shall depart for London on Thursday and return on Sunday.’

Amelie bit her lip. It felt wrong to talk about money when only a few minutes earlier they had been awkwardly trying to move past the kiss they’d shared, but if she was not paid before returning to London she would not be able to pay for the next month of her family’s expenses. Mrs Creedy had been clear that she did not accept any late payments and was not charitably minded. If Amelie did not settle up when she visited, Marie, Harriet and Charles would all be on the streets when the money ran out.

‘I am sorry to ask, Your Grace, but Mrs Potter normally gives me my wages each Monday.’

Lord Beescroft’s eyes widened. ‘I have not paid you these last few weeks…’

‘Truly, I do not need the money now, but I will when we return to London, otherwise I cannot pay the woman who is looking after my brother and sisters.’

‘Take the money out of the cash I have given you for household expenses.’

Amelie hesitated for a moment before nodding. She was keeping meticulous records of the money she spent, although in truth it did not cost much to feed the two of them. The cottage was already paid for so it meant the expenses were minimal. Even so, it spoke of a great deal of trust for Lord Beescroft to suggest she pay herself.

‘Make sure you take the higher wage we agreed for your time here in Grantchester. You are on a housekeeper’s wage rather than a housemaid’s.’

‘Thank you, Your Grace.’

Amelie stood, gave an awkward curtsey and hurried back to the kitchen. Once out of sight, she paused for a moment, resting her head against the doorframe.

This was why all servants were cautioned against allowing any sort of familiarity blossom with their master. Amelie was sensible enough to realise the kiss the night before had been a mistake on both their parts, but it still left her in an awkward situation. Now every time she had to go into his bedroom, or help him on with his jacket, she would remember the intimacy they had shared. It would be impossible to banish it.

Even now, so soon after she had been worrying about losing her position in the duke’s household, she found her gaze lingering when he spoke, her rebellious mind asking whether she might succumb again.

Amelie resolutely set about making breakfast, trying to push all thoughts of the most unlikely romance from her mind.

Chapter Nine

‘You are worrying far too much about consequences that will never affect you,’ Edward Leopold said as he and Will walked through the courtyard together. It was a glorious day, the sun shining brightly in a sky of unbroken blue with not a single cloud in sight.

Will had known Leopold since his undergraduate days. They had studied botany together, but when the rest of the students had left to pursue their lives Leopold had stayed ensconced in academia, pursing further knowledge until he’d been granted a position as a tutor at the university. Leopold had been instrumental in arranging this opportunity for Will, encouraging him to pursue his dream of writing and illustrating a book on the flora and fauna of Great Britain. It was Leopold who had arranged the introductions to the two professors who were being so helpful, guiding him on his writing project, and Leopold who had arranged with the Master of Peterhouse to allow Will to come and study over the summer months when many of the university students would have left and lectures completed for the academic year.

After days of being withdrawn and less productive than usual, Leopold had hauled Will from the library and suggested they do a few laps around the college’s courtyard and gardens. In an uncharacteristic fit of talkativeness, Will had admitted what had occurred between Amelie and him.

‘You are the Duke of Ashmead,’ Leopold continued. ‘You could ravish half of Cambridge and everyone would forgive you.’

Will grimaced. He had always been acutely aware of the moral latitude his position in society gave him and had worked hard not to abuse it. He did not wish to start now.

‘You have an unattached, pretty young woman in your service who, by your account, responded positively when you kissed her.’ He shrugged, ‘Most men would take advantage of the situation and invite her to their bed for a few months.’