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Since she had been a young girl, walking past the hallowed gates of the vast Wenland Hall with her father, her fantasies had been taken up by dashing lords, and noble ladies, prancing around in their finery. On the rare occasion that she had caught a glimpse of the said aristocracy, they had been inside luxurious carriages laden with the finest silks, pulled along by four huge matching black horses. Even then she had promised herself that one day she would get to see inside the house. She had carefully ignored her father’s warning that people like them would never grace such finery and pomposity. At the time she hadn’t understood what he had meant but, now she had walked the oak-panelled halls and trod on the inches thick rugs, she knew exactly what her father had been telling her. She didn’t belong in such places. She frequently reminded herself that she now worked there and had to walk wherever she needed to go, but it failed to eradicate the feeling that she was imposing. That sentiment was magnified by the master whose company always made Petal feel gauche and awkward, even though he seemed nice.
While it was wonderful to be in his presence, deep inside, a tiny part of her desperately wanted to be somewhere, anywhere, else. Right until the moment she left. Unfortunately, as soon as she returned below-stairs, life just seemed that mor
e unsatisfactory. She now wanted more out of life. It felt as though there was something just out of reach and she knew that no matter how hard she stretched, or how many long hours she tried, she would never be able to get it. It was disillusioning, really, and a tad frustrating because she could do nothing to change the situation.
She was, after all, just a maid.
“Childish fantasies,” she whispered. She realised that she had spoken aloud when Mrs Kempton peered at her.
“What’s that?” She asked curiously.
“Nothing.” Petal jumped when a bell suddenly peeled and broke the companionable silence. Her stomach dropped to her toes as it was wont to do whenever the master summoned her, and she knew she was going to see him again.
“You had better go and see what he wants,” Mrs Kempton sighed. “Don’t you pay any attention to that nurse of his; she isn’t worth the effort.”
Petal nodded, but her stomach began to churn at the thought of another confrontation with Edwards. Being at odds with anyone was something she really hated. So much so that she was scowling when she pushed open the door to Sir Aidan’s room moments later.
“Are you alright?” Aidan asked, wondering what had happened to put her in such a bad temper. He watched her hesitate. Even with a frown on her beautiful face, Petal still looked utterly adorable.
Wait! Don’t you dare think about her as a woman, he remonstrated himself.
Forcing his attention away from the alluring way her hips filled out the maid’s uniform the staff wore, he waited until she dipped into a curtsey.
“Yes, sir?” she asked woodenly, aware that Edwards sat in the corner of the room, glaring balefully at her. It was clear she was put out at being reprimanded by Rollo. Petal threw her a dismissive look before she turned to Sir Aidan.
Aidan frowned. “I believe we have been through this before. Don’t curtsey. Don’t call me sir.”
“You rang for me?” Petal replied, refusing to acknowledge the nurse or his order.
Aidan studied Petal and then turned his slightly accusing gaze toward the nurse. He sensed the tension in the room and wondered what had happened between the two ladies to put them at odds with each other. Somehow, he doubted it stemmed from anything the maid had done. The nurse was glaring at her as though she hated her guts. Petal didn’t seem to be the kind of person who would be at odds with anyone. He threw the nurse a curious look and caught the dark, almost evil glare she couldn’t quite hide when she flicked a false smile at him.
“Edwards, go and fetch me my tray of tea,” he ordered coldly.
His eyes met hers when she turned her glare to him. She seemed to remember then who he was. Whatever she had been about to say was masked behind the somewhat false smile she offered him. It left him with the distinct impression that trouble was brewing at Wenland Lodge, and it was going to originate from Edwards.
The silence within the room thickened as both he and Petal waited for the nurse to leave. Strangely, he felt rather protective toward the maid. It was a new, and altogether uncomfortable, feeling for him. The only person in his life he had ever protected was his brother, whom he had once stepped into a fight to save. Other than that, he had never even considered such an emotion before. But it was there, for this strange and somewhat unusual servant.
“Not you,” he said when Petal turned to leave. “I meant Edwards.”
“Me?” Edwards turned shocked eyes on him.
Aidan nodded and waited to see how the nurse would respond to being asked to do something the maid should be doing.
“Yes, you, Edwards,” Aidan demanded coldly. “Now.”
To his surprise, Edwards merely quietly left the room without even a token protest. He watched the door close behind her, a little stymied as to why she would surrender so easily.
Just what is she up to? He mused, but then found his thoughts interrupted by the very visible reminder that Petal was still waiting for him to tell her why he summoned her.
“Do something for me while she is gone,” Aidan murmured hastily.
“What are you doing?” Petal gasped when he threw the covers back from the bed and manhandled his legs around until they were dangling uselessly over the side.
“Help me.” His voice was crisp and no-nonsense.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, temporarily forgetting it wasn’t her place to ask.
She rather suspected he was gritting his teeth, but didn’t seem inclined to want to answer her. Instead, he lifted his arm, apparently expecting her to help him. She glanced worriedly at the door and wondered if she should call Edwards back to assist him with what he was about to do.
