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Turning, Sarah saw Harris just outside the door, with a crew of heads bobbing up and down behind him, curious eyes trying to see into the receiving room. She swallowed a smile and motioned for them to come in and line up behind one of the two settees that flanked the fireplace in the room. Embleton turned his attention to the servants, peering at them as closely as he had the rest of the room, then turning to her, a question on his face. Sarah cleared her throat and held her hand out toward the duke.
“This is the Duke of Embleton.” All movement in her staff stopped, except for increasingly wider eyes. “Your Grace, this is the entirety of my household staff. They are each quite important to me, and I am introducing you because I would like to maintain their employment, no matter what happens.”
Those wide eyes narrowed in suspicion as she went on. “Harris, my butler. My cook, Mrs. Gilpin. The housemaid, Kate, and our maid-of-all-work, Meg. And my lady’s maid, Reid.” She clutched her hands in front of her, addressing the servants. “Over the next few weeks, His Grace will be visiting quite often.” As they looked at each other, she glanced at Embleton, who stood quite still and without any expression. Simply waiting. The patience of a soldier. She continued.
“Because I have accepted him as a suitor.”
Chapter Three
Saturday, 23 July 1814
Lady Crewood’s home,
Little St. James Street, London
Half past three
Matthew watched asthe news washed over the servants. Harris remained the most stoic, but his jaw clenched so tightly that a muscle in his cheek throbbed and his spine remained ramrod straight. Mrs. Gilpin’s lips became a thin line, and she crossed her arms. The two maids looked at each other, mouths agape. Reid appeared the most distressed, her eyes clouded with worry as she pressed a hand to her lips.
Sarah continued, her voice even but firm. An officer addressing her troops. “We will know more details about how this will affect our household in a few days. The courtship will be short, and if all works out, we will know the final outcome by the end of August, if not before. Reid, please contact the modiste and arrange for two appointments this week. Day gowns”—she gave Matthew a quick glance—“in purple and lavender.”
“Finally,” murmured the cook.
Sarah flinched but did not change her tone. “Mrs. Gilpin, nothing will change for you at this time, although His Grace will be joining us for tea on the three days mentioned. That is all for now. You may go.”
The five glanced around at each other, then the three maids and the cook padded out. Harris took a deep breath.
“Yes, Harris?” Sarah asked.
“Will you need tea for His Grace today, my lady?”
Sarah looked at him, but Matthew shook his head. Mark waited for him at White’s, and he felt much more in need of a stiff brandy than tea with milk. Sarah gave a single nod but addressed Harris.
“Not today. His Grace is leaving shortly. If you could please bring his hat and cloak and wait in the hall.”
Harris executed a precise about face and left.
“Was he in the military?” Matthew muttered.
Sarah’s voice was just as low with the answer. “Many years ago.”
“That explains a great deal.”
“Which you can explain to me at some future time.” She faced him fully. “Is there anything else, Your Grace?”
Matthew held back a smile. Now was not the time. “Just two things.”
“And they would be?”
“When we are in private, would you please call me Matthew?”
The hard lines in her jaw and shoulders smoothed, and she licked her lips. “Of course. Matthew.”
“And may I call you Sarah?”
Her voice became a gravelly whisper. “Of course. Matthew.” She said his name as if she were trying out a new pudding. “And the other thing?”
“Please remove the veil. Now... and whenever we are in private.”
