Maid for Scandal (6 page)

“No.” If only it were that simple. “In fact, I was not recognized at all. By anyone.”

“But… not even by Giles?” Belinda took her hands and clasped them tightly. “Oh, dear. I thought he loved you. How could he not see past a maid’s cap and apron?”

“I was mistaken about him.” Dreadfully mistaken—though the clues had been there, if only she had been wise enough to see them. “It’s for the best, really. Giles and I wouldn’t suit.”

Not when she knew he didn’t truly see a person, merely a conquest. Their secret meetings, his endearments to her, they had been empty. He had not wanted to marry her, only take advantage of her. She sighed.

“Well—no harm done,” Belinda said. “And now you’ve a daring adventure in your past, to lend you a worldly air.”

A worldly air, indeed. Anna had learned more than she’d wanted, and the price of that wisdom had tarnished her view of the world. She wouldn’t mar Belinda’s innocence by revealing everything. At least, not while the knowledge was still painfully tender.

“I’m afraid the life of a servant is nothing to wax poetic about, Bel. Only five days and my hands are chapped from scrubbing. And I’d be happy never to observe the sun rising again.”

Belinda sprang up. “That’s all behind you now. This way you’ll be here for our country ball! We must arrange for you to ‘arrive’ immediately. Here—I’ve hidden your gown in the back of my wardrobe. You change, and I’ll manage the details.”

An hour later, Anna Harcourt rode up to the front gates of Caswell Manor in a carriage stacked with her luggage. She presented the letter from her parents to the elder Caswells, apologized for the sudden arrival, and was welcomed warmly. Only she and Belinda knew that, folded in the depths of her valise, lay a plain maid’s dress. The last evidence of her ill-fated adventure as a maid.

Well—not the last. She had kept Jonathan’s handkerchief. There were initials embroidered in the corner, but she had not wanted to call Belinda’s attention to it. She’d tucked the kerchief, crumpled and still a bit soggy, into her reticule for later examination.

It was not difficult to plead fatigue after luncheon, and retire to her room. She really was quite exhausted, but first…

Sitting on her bed, Anna unfolded the square of linen. It was hemmed precisely, and in one corner, worked in green silk, were the letters
J.A.
Jonathan what? She didn’t even know his last name. Abercrombie? Aiken? Who had embroidered those well-stitched initials? A sister? A wife?

No. Not a wife. She lay back against the pillows, weaving the kerchief between her fingers. Jonathan was not like Giles. Despite having been very mistaken in her judgments recently, she felt the truth in this. There was a quiet integrity about Jonathan. If he were married, she was quite certain he wouldn’t go about kissing other ladies. Or comforting them, or escorting them wherever they needed to go.

A breath, not quite a sob, escaped her lips. She brought the kerchief to her nose, but there was no trace of his scent.

Perhaps… mightn’t she don her maid’s clothing and go return his kerchief? The thought lodged itself under her ribs, painful and exciting all at once.

Then the weight of wisdom settled down on her. Returning to the Wildering’s estate and seeing Jonathan again, however briefly, was a terrible idea. There was nothing to be gained by it but more heartache.

She slipped the handkerchief under her pillow. It could lend sweetness to her dreams, but that was all.

A week after her arrival, Caswell Manor hummed with excitement. The country ball was to be held that evening. The Caswells were, as usual, very generous. They had invited all the local gentry, even the minor squires.

Belinda was elated—but then, she was always one to enjoy a party. As Anna herself had been, until lately.

“Oh, Anna,” her friend said, “we’ll have so much fun tonight! It’s nothing like the grand London events, but that’s part of what makes it so amusing. We can drink champagne instead of over-sweetened lemonade, and dance with whomever we please. And the conversation…” She fell back, laughing, on her bed.

Anna waited patiently for her friend to catch her breath. “The conversation?”

“Last year, the vicar and Squire Brown, one of the local farmers, got into a heated discussion about different kinds of fertilizers. You could hear them shouting about manures, even over the music. Oh, and there was the time Miss Landry smuggled her pet pig into the ball, and it got loose during the dancing. Some of the ladies squealed as loudly as the pig!”

“Oh, my.” Anna joined in her friend’s laughter. She had not laughed in too long—it felt like a bubble of air had formed in her chest and was finally escaping. “Then I am eagerly awaiting the evening’s festivities.”

“Which ball-gown are you going to wear?” Belinda sat up. “The green silk is very becoming on you—and I have just the ornament for your hair.”

“Is it a pig?”

“Yes, a very small one.” Belinda laughed and shook her head. “I’m so pleased to see you out of your melancholy, Anna. Tonight will be splendid. I promise.”

That promise had yet to prove true, however.

Anna stood with Belinda as the Caswells received their guests. It was not as tedious as the usual receiving lines, though, especially with Belinda poking her in the ribs and telling her to watch for smuggled-in livestock.

“Mr. Giles Wildering, Mrs. Wildering,” the butler announced.

Cold squeezed Anna’s chest. Oh, no! Had she considered it, she would have realized that of course Giles and his mother would be in attendance. She shot Belinda a panicked look, but her friend only gave her a reassuring smile.

 If only she could creep back behind one of the potted palms in the hallway… too late. Belinda’s mother was greeting Giles. In a moment she would turn and present their houseguest. There was no escape. Anna pasted a smile across her face, and prayed he would not suddenly recognize her.

“Miss Harcourt.” Giles bowed over her gloved hand.

When he looked up, his charming smile faltered for a moment. Anna contrived her haughtiest expression.

“Mr. Wildering,” she said, keeping her voice cool and even, with no hint of their past history. “A pleasure to see you again.”

“Ah, yes.” His smile was firmly back in place. “I recall our lovely interlude in the Benning’s rose arbor. Perhaps you will take a stroll about the gardens with me, this evening?”

“Perhaps.”  Never.

“If you grace me with your company, it will be the highlight of the ball.” He pitched his voice for her ears alone. “I’ve missed you dreadfully.”

He pressed her fingers between his own, and it was all Anna could do not to snatch her hand away. What a rogue. She could not imagine how she had been so blind.

“Come along, Giles,” his mother said, taking his arm. “I believe I see the Earl of Blakely. His niece is a lovely girl, if you recall.”

With a final, burning glance at her, he let his mother tow him into the crowd. Anna wished she had something to sip, to wash the taste of his presence from her mouth.

“I hear the music beginning,” Belinda’s mother said. “Why don’t you girls go enjoy the dancing? Almost all our guests have arrived—you needn’t keep us company here any longer.”

“Thank you, Mama.” Belinda dropped a kiss on her mother’s cheek. “I think Anna is in need of refreshment.”

Her father gave them a stern look, though there was a twinkle in his eye. “Mind the champagne, Belinda. I don’t want to find you sitting in the hall again, giggling to no one.”

“Don’t fret,” Belinda said. “I have Anna to giggle with this year.” She grinned at her parents, then linked arms with Anna and led her away.

“I can’t believe the Wilderings are here,” Anna said. “Now I’ll have to avoid Giles for the entire evening.”

“And he still never recognized you.” Belinda shook her head. “Come, let’s get some champagne and tell secrets. Surely you have a secret or two. Don’t dissemble. I can see it in your face, Anna.”

There were things she could never share with Belinda. Luckily, there were a few tidbits she had discovered in her short tenure as a maid.

Anna leaned close to her friend. “Giles Wildering’s coats are all padded at the shoulders. He’s really rather small of stature.” She had her suspicions about his breeches as well.

“Never say so!” Belinda tipped her eyes up to the ceiling. “He’s nothing but lies, isn’t he?”

Anna took a sip of her champagne. “Now you tell me a secret.”

“I’m thinking of bribing one of the footmen to bring a chicken in.” Belinda’s smile was full of mischief.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Oh listen, it’s the quadrille!” Belinda set down her champagne flute. “I’ll dance with Jaded Giles if you promise to find someone exciting to dance with.”

“I’ve had a bit too much excitement in my life, recently,” Anna said.

“You mustn’t let me make this sacrifice in vain.” Belinda affected a martyred expression. “Please, Anna. I want you to enjoy yourself, to dance.”

Anna never could resist her friend’s pleading. “Very well. But you must make sure Giles is well in hand before I step onto the floor.”

“Don’t take too long.” Belinda waggled her gloved fingers, then vanished into the crowd.

Anna took another swallow of champagne. Truly, she had no heart for dancing—but she
had
promised. To dance, at any rate. Enjoying herself was out of the question. She glanced about for the most uninteresting prospect she could find. There—one of the local squire’s sons, a gangly fellow who flushed when she smiled at him.

Still, the lad was enough up to scratch that a moment later he approached and asked her to join him in the quadrille. Anna accepted, making sure to guide them to the second line, where they would have no chance of coming face-to-face with Belinda and her partner.

She caught snatches of conversation as they moved through the figures of the dance. Behind her, Mrs. Wildering was exclaiming to someone about the unreliability of country servants and their questionable references. Anna was certain she was the cause of that particular complaint.

Soon enough, the dance was ended. She thanked the squire’s son and retreated back to her corner, where Belinda soon joined her.

“Heavens, Giles Wildering’s hands like to roam,” she said. “I had to swat him with my fan twice. And then he wouldn’t stop talking about his new horse.”

“His horse?” It must be Windsor, surely.

“Well, his
former
new horse. Apparently the man who sold it to him changed his mind. Mr. Wildering was sorely vexed.”

Anything that vexed him, Anna found pleasing. “Who sold him the horse? I’ll have to thank the gentleman.”

“It was Sir Averly, I believe. He breeds horses—and look, there he is now. Late, but at least he came. He’s far and away the most interesting gentleman in the area. You should dance with him, Anna. Come, I’ll introduce you.”

As they moved across the dance floor, the back of Anna’s neck began to prickle. Belinda was leading her toward a tall, sandy-haired figure that was suddenly, achingly, familiar. Surely it couldn’t be. It was a passing resemblance, that was all. She tried to calm her pounding heart.

Then the man turned. His rugged features were unmistakable. Those penetrating green eyes fixed on her face and surprise flashed across his expression, quickly masked.

“Sir Averly,” Belinda said. “How lovely that you could attend our ball.”

“Indeed.” His gaze had not left Anna’s.

“Allow me to introduce my friend, Miss Anna Harcourt. She’s currently a guest at Caswell Manor. Anna, meet Sir Jonathan Avery.”

“Sir.” Anna could scarcely breathe.

Jonathan. Here—and somehow a member of the gentry. It unbalanced her completely. She was surprised the walls hadn’t begun to cave in on her.

“Miss Harcourt, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Would you care to further it by strolling with me on the terrace?” He held out his arm to her.

Belinda blinked, then leaned her head close to Anna’s. “Go on,” she whispered. “He’s a gentleman—you’ve no cause to worry.”

“Thank you.” Anna found her voice. “I’d be delighted.”

She placed her hand on his arm. The feel of his strength under her fingers reminded her of how it felt to be wrapped in his embrace. Heat flushed into her cheeks and she kept her gaze resolutely fixed on the French doors ahead.

Neither of them spoke until they had gained the low balustrade at the edge of the terrace. Then she released his arm and turned to face him. Light spilling from the ballroom left half his face in shadow. It was difficult to tell if he were pleased to see her, or angry. Or both.

“So,” she said, her voice a touch unsteady. “You are not a stable-hand.”

“And you are not a maid—though I suspected as much upon our first meeting.”

“You did?” How mortifying, that her disguise had been so easy to see through. “What gave me away?”

“No country maid ever spoke so elegantly, for one thing. And it was rather a stretch to imagine such a lovely maid having no experience in the arts of love. Unless, of course, you came from a much more sheltered existence.”

“Yet you said nothing.” He had known, all along. A curious sense of relief washed through her.