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“What’s her name?”
Petal scrunched her nose up, “Morgana Edwards, I think. Rollo and Mrs Kempton just call her Edwards.”
Petal had overheard Mrs Kempton discussing Edwards’ presence in the house with Rollo. It was evident that neither of them approved of her, especially since she appeared to be connected to the master’s mother, the dowager. Because of Aggy’s penchant for gossip, though, she didn’t want to discuss it with her friend. She would lose her job if Aggy passed on information about a conversation Petal had overheard to all and sundry, and it reached Mrs Kempton or Rollo’s ears.
Besides, she didn’t want people to think she was a below stairs gossip. It was important to her that people thought she could be trusted in every way.
“I have been told that she intends to eat in her room, so we aren’t likely to see much of her,” Aggy whispered as she cast a furtive look at the door.
Before Petal could reply, Mrs Kempton appeared, wiping her floury hands on her apron.
“Oh, there you are, Petal. Be a dear and go take this tray up to the master. He is asleep at the minute so don’t you go waking him up. Just leave it on a side table where he can reach it.”
Petal handed Agatha her end of the sheet they had been folding and hurried into the kitchen. She lifted the heavy tray and backed through the door to the servant’s stairs, laden with her cumbersome tray. Her burden made climbing the narrow steps tricky, mainly because she couldn’t see her feet. Eventually, though, she teetered onto the first floor. She was breathing heavily by the time she nudged through the door to the landing that led to the master’s suite of rooms.
She was trembling by the time she reached the room only didn’t particularly feel that her nerves had anything to do with delivering the tray. Focusing her attention on the task of turning the knob on the door so she could stagger into the room without spilling anything gave her the time she needed to calm herself.
Thankfully, the master was asleep as Mrs Kempton had said, but she was still very conscious of his presence in the high bed as she crossed the room. She placed the tray carefully on the table as instructed. She wasn’t sure he would ever know it was there or would be bothered with its contents, but at least he had it nearby if he d
ecided he wanted anything. Maybe then he wouldn’t need to ring for her so often.
Eyeing the distance between the table and the bed, she realised that even if he leaned sideways he wouldn’t be able to reach it because he couldn’t get out of bed. Once both table and tray had been repositioned closer to the bed, she turned to leave.
Suddenly, he began to mumble incoherently beneath his breath.
Unsure if he was trying to talk to her, she looked at him. Something in her chest lurched as she stared at his rugged masculine features. The high arch of his cheeks beneath a layer of fresh stubble gave him a dangerous, almost piratical look that gave her the shivers. As much as it intrigued her, she was slightly unnerved by the invisible tug of attraction she felt toward him. It felt as though she was committing some sort of cardinal sin but she was helpless to fight the curiosity blazing a trail of bristling intrigue inside her looking at him so blatantly, this closely.
She was alone in the room, and he was asleep, so what harm could there be in it? She took a moment to study him. She had heard that he had spent the last few months in London, but his bronzed skin hinted that whatever he had been doing there had involved a considerable amount of time outdoors. Nobody who spent their time in ballrooms could gain that healthy glow. The corded expanse of tanned flesh rippled as he breathed. She sighed, almost longingly, and forced herself to look away. Even ill, he had a vibrancy about him that emphasised his masculinity.
While she had been working at the house, she had seen his portrait in the study downstairs, several times in fact. Now that she had seen him in person, she realised that it must have been painted several years ago. She suspected when he had been in his early twenties. He must now be in his early to mid-thirties. The man he was now had an air of maturity about him that only added to his sensual appeal. In fact, the faint lines that bracketed his eyes and mouth hinted at a hard-earned wisdom that made her want to learn everything about him; where he had been, and what he had experienced in life. She suspected the laughter lines crinkled when he laughed or smiled, but knew she was not likely to find out. Her association with him was purely as a maid; and if he were like any of the other masters servants usually worked for, their discourse would be without mirth, and abrupt to the point of total avoidance.
She glanced at the clock with a frown. She was breaking probably ten different rules of the house staring at him so wantonly, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. Her gaze wandered downward, across the stubble covered sharp blade of his jaw, down the long, corded neck, to rest on the broad, heavily muscled shoulders. She had heard from Mrs Kempton that his accident had been about as severe as it was possible for anyone to survive. The bare skin she could see though didn’t have any bruising or scars on it, though. He was definitely sick, though. Whatever injuries he had sustained had temporarily robbed him of the ability to walk.
The quiet creak of a floorboard outside snapped her out of her musings, and she glanced frantically around the room while she tried to decide what to do to show that she was busy. The last thing she wanted was to be caught gazing at the new master like some love-struck fool. Her heart hammered wildly when she couldn’t think of a single thing she could say to explain why she was still in the room. Thankfully, the sudden crack of a log in the fireplace came to the rescue.
Flying across the chamber, she dropped to her knees and was busy putting new logs onto the fire when Edwards, swept into the room.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, eyeing Petal as though she was nothing more than a street urchin.
Petal glanced at the master. The nurse had made no attempt to keep her voice down in deference to his sleeping state. It was on the tip of her tongue to remind Edwards not to disturb him but then had to caution herself that it was not her place to do so. She motioned to the fire instead.
“I have been ordered to keep the fire in,” she whispered, and put several more logs on to prove her point.
Edwards watched her as she swept the hearth, but Petal didn’t look at her again before she quietly left. Confrontation with the rather intimidating nurse was the last thing she wanted in her first full day of her proper job. With that in mind, she quietly made her way back down to the kitchens. There was something a little unusual about that nurse, but it wasn’t just her offensive rudeness to the servants. Edwards had an almost predatory air around the master that was too proprietary for someone who was, essentially, also a servant.
It was going to be tough to avoid the woman when she was the one who had to deliver and collect trays, change his bedding, and visit the room regularly to keep the fire in. Mulling over the potential problems that might lay ahead, Petal returned to work but with one thing very firmly rooted in the back of her mind. Now, she understood why Rollo had chosen her to be the upstairs maid rather than Aggy. With Aggy’s rather timid tendency to cry at the slightest provocation, dealing with someone like the arrogant nurse would have been beyond her. At the moment, though, Petal began to wonder if she was up to the job herself.
CHAPTER THREE
“I said, no,” Aidan ground out through clenched teeth.
Even after a couple of hours’ sleep, his entire body continued to ache, but that wasn’t the worst of his problems at the moment. The damned nurse was his biggest pain.
“I have been assured by the doctor that it is best for you to take it so you must,” Edwards replied crisply.
Aidan glared at the woman, whom he had taken to calling by her surname in deference to his genuine disgust with her.
“Edwards, get out of this room,” he ordered in disgust.
