Page 3 of Maid for the Duke

‘Yes. I wish everything to be arranged.’

William watched as his housekeeper walked from the room. He could not believe he hadn’t seen how she had slowed down and he chided himself for being so wrapped up in his own world, his own grief, and not realised Mrs Potter was struggling. No doubt the changes he dreaded would come sooner than he’d expected.

Chapter Two

‘Please sit.’

Amelie perched on the edge of the chair Lord Beescroft indicated and folded her hands neatly in her lap. She had been taught never to show agitation; to present a calm demeanour however on edge she felt inside. Just now, it felt as though she had a thousand bees buzzing away in her stomach, causing all sorts of mischief, but by her serene expression no one would suspect anything was wrong.

‘I understand you have been working as a maid here at Ashmead House for almost a year.’

‘Yes, Your Grace.’

‘Mrs Potter tells me you are hard-working and responsible.’

Amelie pressed her lips together, unsure how to reply, but the Duke didn’t seem to need an answer from her.

‘I will get straight to the point, Amelie. In one week I plan to journey to Cambridge, where I will rent a cottage for a few months.’

Frowning, Amelie wondered why a man with more than half a dozen properties might decide to rent a cottage when he could stay at one of his perfectly good estates dotted throughout the country. She would have loved to question him, to find out his motivation, but it was not her place, so instead she kept a mildly interested expression on her face and wondered what any of this had to do with her.

‘Normally Mrs Potter would accompany me on a venture such as this. The cottage will be small and I will not need a full staff, just someone to keep things clean and cook.’

‘But Mrs Potter is unwell,’ Amelie murmured, realisation dawning. She felt a flicker of panic as she understood what he was about to ask her. She could not say yes, but he might dismiss her if she refused. A lump formed in her throat as she remembered the panicked days before she had secured this job, never knowing where she would find the funds needed to feed her family, let alone keep a roof over all their heads.

‘Yes. Mrs Potter is unwell. She has suggested you would be the perfect substitute.’

Amelie swallowed hard, wondering how best to say no to a duke.

‘You will be expected to organise all domestic matters, shop for food and prepare meals alongside the duties you will be more familiar with here. I trust that will not be a problem?’

‘I can cook, Your Grace,’ Amelie said. It was one thing she brought from her old life. Her mother had been a wonderful cook, eager to teach Amelie how to prepare the delicate French pastries and delicious dishes she’d remembered from her own childhood in France.

‘Good. Then it is settled. I will double your wages for the duration of the time we are away. You will have one day off a week and are free to organise your time as you see fit as long as everything is completed.’

‘I am grateful you thought of me, Your Grace,’ Amelie said, pushing on before he could take her opening as acceptance of the role. ‘But unfortunately I cannot be away from London for an extended period of time.’

‘Are you refusing?’ He raised an eyebrow and Amelie could see the surprise on his face. It was clear not many people refused Lord Beescroft. He cleared his throat. ‘There would be no impropriety, on my honour. You would have your own room and complete privacy.’

Amelie’s eyes widened in horror. ‘No, Your Grace. I am not worried about my honour.’ The thought was laughable really. Once, Amelie had been set to make a decent marriage, but now she could not imagine sharing her life with anyone. Rumours could not hurt her.

‘If not your honour, what stops you from accepting the job?’

Swallowing hard, Amelie wondered how much to tell the Duke. He knew little about her; in fact, she would wager that before their meeting today he would not have been able to pick her out of a line of assembled servants. Mrs Potter had employed her, and even the kindly housekeeper did not know the full details of Amelie’s circumstances.

‘I have responsibilities here in London. I cannot abandon them for months at a time.’

The Duke’s eyes narrowed just a fraction. ‘A child?’

Amelie shook her head hurriedly. He would want no hint of scandal associated with his household and she might even be dismissed if he thought of her as a fallen woman.

‘Not my child,’ she clarified quickly. ‘My kin—two sisters and a brother. I am all they have.’

‘Where do they live?’

Amelie bristled at the directness of the question. Only the aristocracy thought it their right to probe into everyone else’s business.

‘They lodge with a widow.’