Maid to Be Mine: A Regency Cinderella Story (7 page)

Once again, Edith was rolling her eyes.
Treat our family like servants
was more like it. Why would Georgiana tell him such a Banbury tale? She could not remember any instance in which they would treat their servants like family. She didn't even know the servants' names—apart from Cynthia, of course.

“
Perhaps we could go for a ride some other time, Lady Georgiana?” Lord Charmington suggested.

“
Yes. Perhaps.” When the earl glanced over at her, she fluttered her eyelashes as preciously as she could.

But that was not how he interpreted it. “Do you have something in your eye, Lady Georgiana?”

“
Pardon?” She gave her eye a rub.

“
I thought you might have something in your eye. Are you alright?”

“
I'm... quite alright,” she answered apathetically, then swiftly changed the subject. “So, what do you think of our garden, my lord? It is small, but very colorful.”

“
It is beautiful,” he agreed.

“
It's as if all of my favorite flowers have been gathered in one place!” Georgiana continued. “I'm particularly fond of peonies. They have all the lustrous beauty of a rose, but without all the prickly thorns. And let's not forget the hyacinth! Violets only wish they were that brilliant! And look over there at the chrysanthemum... another favorite of mine! What is your favorite flower, my lord?”

“
Um.” James pursed his lips as he contemplated her question. “I don't think I have one.”

She gasped. “You don't have one?!”

“
No. I'm afraid most gentlemen don't spend much time thinking about flowers.”

“
Well, they should! Flowers are nature's beauty at its best!” Georgiana playfully swatted his arm. “The only thing I don't like about flowers are the bees. I have a petrifying fear of anything that buzzes!”

“
Really?” He tried to sound interested, but he wasn't.

“
I do! A few years ago, I had a bee lodged in my bonnet, and it was a traumatic experience.”

“
You didn't get stung, I hope?”

“
No... but it chased me!” Georgiana whimpered as she recounted the tale. “I tore off my bonnet, but the bee wasn't finished with me. It chased me around the garden as if it was my mortal enemy! And Edith, as wicked as she is, had the audacity to laugh! Do you remember that, Edith?!”

“
I do,” Edith chuckled.

“
If I am cast into Dante's Inferno one day, I am sure there will be some bees in my personal circle of Hell!” Georgiana said with a shudder. “And there would be babies there!”

The earl hoisted an eyebrow. “Babies, Lady Georgiana?”

“
Yes. I don't care for babies... what with all their whining and fragility. They frighten me! That's not to say I don't want children of my own, of course, but I believe that is what a nursemaid is for!”

“
You're filling his lordship's head with quite a bit of information,” Edith noted.

“
And why not? If he's going to court me, he should know everything about me!”

Lord Charmington nearly choked on his tongue.
Court her
?! It wasn't that he disliked Georgiana, and she was pretty enough, but he had given her no reason to believe he was a suitor. However, he did not want to hurt her feelings, so he simply smiled.

“
Anyway...” Georgiana continued, “I don't think I have anything to fear from bees... at least, not today. It is only October, but it is unseasonably cold.”

“
Are you cold?” James asked. “If you are, I should take you inside. I would not want you to catch a chill, Lady Georgiana.”

“
Oh, I'm quite alright. But that is very considerate of you, my lord.”

Lord Charmington could feel his shoulders falling. He had hoped to use the cold as an excuse to end their stroll, but he had no such luck.

“
I am sure you are always considerate, my lord. You're the definition of a gentleman! Wouldn't you agree, Edith?” Georgiana didn't wait for her sister's response, because she did not care to hear it. “As for the weather, don't you think it's especially cold for October? One year, I remember it snowed! If that should happen again, it doesn't bode well for the flowers.”

Lord Charmington didn't hear a word she said, because his eyes were drawn to something in the distance. There was a woman sitting on a bench—most likely a maid, because she was dressed like one. But her head was bent over a paper, as if she was reading it. A maid that could read?! He was intrigued, to say the least, and not only by the fact that she could read the written word. Even at a distance, he could tell she was very beautiful. Her skin was like porcelain, and her blonde hair was luminous, as he would imagine an angel's hair to be.

“
Lady... Georgiana?” Since he was distracted by the sight of the maid, he started speaking slowly. “Should I... perhaps... take you back inside?”

“
But I am
so
enjoying your company!” Georgiana squealed.

“
As I am enjoying yours,” he lied. “But is it cold, as you have pointed out. I would not want you or your sister to fall ill.”

“
Edith is never ill, and neither am I!”

“
But--” When he saw the maid rise from the bench and head into the house, his words trailed off. She was leaving! “Really, I must insist. You should get back to the house!” He tightened his grip on her arm and led her away from the garden.

Lord Charmington's urgency made Georgiana laugh. “You make it sound as if I might catch my death! You must be very concerned indeed!”

“
I am.”

When they were inside Montforth Hall, he deposited both sisters in the foyer and hurried away. His abrupt dismissal, as rude as it was, put a crease between Georgiana's eyes. “My lord, where are you going?! When will I see you again!? When will you return?!”

Lord Charmington didn't answer her questions, nor did he look back at her. He desperately needed to catch up to the pretty maid.

For some odd reason, he felt as if his entire happiness depended upon knowing her name.

Chapter Eight

I LOVE YOU

As she stared at her father's words, the last words he would ever write, Cynthia was filled with a mixture of emotions. Sadness. Pain. Contentment. She missed him terribly, even more than she thought she would. He had been ill for the last year, and she knew it was coming, but nothing could have prepared her for the loss. His death left an unfillable void in her heart.

“
Father...” As she stared at his scrawl, Cynthia was fighting tears. Without a doubt, her father loved her more than he loved anyone. He was her best friend, the most important person in her life. How would he feel if he knew how her stepmother was treating her?

Cynthia thought she heard voices, so she glanced up from the note.

“
...don't you think it's especially cold for October? One year, I remember it snowed! If that should happen again, that doesn't bode well for the flowers.”

To her horror, her stepsisters and the visiting lord were moving in her direction. She had been ordered to avoid him, so she needed to leave.
And quickly.
Cynthia folded her note, slipped it into her pocket, and made a dash for the house. She ran through the foyer and into the hall, determined to make herself scarce. She was moving so fast, her foot slipped out of her slipper, but that didn't stop her. She could always retrieve her abandoned footwear at a later time.

At the end of the corridor, she paused to catch her breath. She leaned against the wall, grateful for her successful escape. Cynthia did not doubt her stepmother's threat. She was certain she
would
be thrown out of the house if she was caught in the presence of Lord Charmington.

“
Would that really be so bad?” Cynthia whispered to herself. “Perhaps I could... find employment elsewhere? Surely it would be much less embarrassing than being at my stepmother's beck and call...”

No matter how much she wished she could escape, Cynthia just couldn't fathom it. She was not what anyone would describe as
worldly;
she had lived in Montforth Hall her entire life. Every time she thought about running away, she wondered if the real world would be too much to bear.

“
Pardon me!”

When she heard the unfamiliar male voice, Cynthia's body froze. She tried to smash herself against the wall, as if hoping that would hide her body from anyone who approached.

“
Pardon me, miss?” When she realized the speaker was none other than Lord Charmington, she closed her eyes and prayed he would disappear.

This can't be happening!

“
Miss?” He addressed her again. As he approached, he held out her discarded slipper. “I believe this might be yours?”

“
Um... yes,” Cynthia shyly confessed. “I, uh, I believe that might be mine.”

When Cynthia reached for her slipper, he swiftly pulled it away. “No. Allow me.” She watched, in horror, as the earl sunk to his knees. He cradled the slipper in his hands and held it toward her feet.

“
You expect me to slip my foot into that slipper while you're holding it, Lord--” Though she knew his name, she hesitated. How was a maid supposed to address an earl?!

“
Charmington,” he finished for her. “I'm Lord Charmington, but you are welcome to call me James.”

“
I don't think that would be proper.”

“
Maybe not,” he agreed. When he smiled up at her, Cynthia swore she could feel her knees turning into rubber. Lord Charmington had to be the most aesthetically perfect human being she had ever laid eyes on. He had intense blue eyes, a perfectly square jaw, and the most supple lips she had ever seen on a man. He was the definition of handsome, and he would likely make any unsuspecting female weak in the knees. “But who cares about propriety? On this day, let us make an exception. You may call me James, and I will call you--”

“
Is that your clever way of learning my name, my lord?” Cynthia asked. She looked down the hallway, terrified that she would be caught conversing with the handsome lord.

“
It might be.” Right before her eyes, his smile turned into a grin.

“
I'm... Cynthia,” she said. “Now, will you return my slipper?”

He was still on his knees, holding out the slipper toward her. “Of course. Just slide your foot inside...”

“
Now
that
is improper!” Cynthia gasped.

“
Is it?”

“
It is!” Cynthia crossed her arms. “What if my bare foot should happen to brush against your hand?!”

“
I expect that it will,” Lord Charmington said. “In fact, I anticipate it.”

“
But does that not seem...
intimate
?”

“
When skin makes contact with skin, it is almost always an intimate experience,” the earl said. “And that, Cynthia, is why I am anticipating the moment when your foot brushes against me.”

Cynthia held out her hand. “You really won't hand it over?” When she saw him shake his head, Cynthia heaved a high-pitched sigh. “Very well...” As she slipped her foot into the shoe, her ankle brushed against his knuckles. The contact, as brief as it was, sent a ripple of chills along her spine.

When he stood, Lord Charmington put his hands on his hips—a decidedly cocky stance. “There. That wasn't so bad, was it?”

“
N-no.”

“
You know...” Lord Charmington stepped forward, leaving little space between them. Their close proximity made her eyelashes flutter dreamily. “You're very beautiful.”

“
I... am?”

“
Yes.” He was so close, she thought she could feel his breath on her cheek. “I hope you don't think my compliment is imprudent?”