“Your name?”
Drat. Of course she should have given her name first. She has was a complete ninny. “Miss Er…Erienne Stone.”
The butler blinked at her slowly, his face registering neither recognition of the name nor the intention to send her packing. Servants at the finest households were apparently trained to show no emotion whatsoever. She’d do well to remember that for her next interview, because she had no intention of actually securing this particular position. Even if she were offered it, she’d be a fool to take it. She’d come here to please Mrs. Griggs, to gain some practice in the art of the interview, and because the sum of money Mrs. Griggs mentioned as the pay for being the governess in the house of a duke and a duchess was an amount that would more than pay for Peter’s surgery.
And very well … If she was being completely honest, she’d also come to see if there was any possibility whatsoever of learning the slightest piece of news about … Collin.
The thought had stolen the breath from her lungs, but she couldn’t help herself. She simply couldn’t. It was wrong and it was madness, but she hadn’t been able to keep herself from coming here today. The papers often held news about the duke and his dashing wife, but she’d found little about Collin over the years. She couldn’t help her curiosity. Not because she still cared for him. Never that. Their involvement with each other had been a lifetime ago. But merely because she … wondered about him from time to time. Was he happy? Was he married? Did he have a son with his own dark hair and green eyes?
The butler stood to the side and opened the door wider, scattering Erienne’s thoughts. “Come in. Her grace is expecting you, Miss Stone.”
Erienne nearly doubled over with relief. She stepped inside the grand marble-lined foyer and tried not to gawk at the exquisite room. A double staircase made entirely of marble and sleek, polished wood snaked its way up on either side of the cavernous space. White, shining marble floors spread in front of her as far as the eye could see. Highly polished wood tables sat on either side of the room with elaborate golden candelabras gracing the centers of both. The place smelled like lemon and costly wax, and a huge crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling between the two sides of the staircase.
The interior was sparse, but gorgeous and tasteful, a far cry from the tiny cottage at the end of the lane where Derek Hunt and his two brothers had grown up in Brighton. She’d always known the Hunt brothers were special, but Derek’s success made tears sting her eyes. She quickly blinked them away.
Aware of her gawking, Erienne snapped her mouth shut. She wasn’t certain she was dressed well enough to enter this house, let alone apply for employment within its magnificent walls. She was certain the butler’s livery cost more than the entire fourteen years of pay she’d received while working for the Hilltop family. She clutched at her simple white cotton reticule and glanced down at her serviceable white cotton gown and light green woolen pelisse. Her kid slippers were also white and also serviceable, but just last week she’d added small satin ribbons to the tops to make them more stylish. Now she’d never been more relieved that she’d taken the time to do something so frivolous.
“May I take your coat and gloves?” Not meeting her gaze, the butler held out one stiff arm for the articles.
Erienne hurriedly removed both items and handed them to the man, who set them neatly aside before saying, “This way.” He walked like a statue come to life toward two large wooden doors attached to the foyer.
Erienne scrambled behind him to keep up with his long strides, gulping and hoping he hadn’t heard the unattractive noise. No doubt servants in so fine a house didn’t do such vulgar things as gulp. There had been little to gulp about at the Hilltops’ house.
The butler knocked once before pushing open the doors and stepping inside. Erienne followed him and tried not to stare at the gorgeous lady perched on the settee in the center of the room. The woman had curly, black hair that was pinned atop her head. She wore a lovely emerald green gown and a smile brightened her pretty features.
“Your grace,” the butler intoned. “May I present Miss Stone?”
To Erienne’s amazement, the lady stood, hurried over to her, and grasped her hands as if they were reuniting friends. “Miss Stone, I’ve been expecting you. Please, come and sit with me.”
Erienne had no choice but to follow the woman back toward the settee.
“Please do bring tea, Hughes,” the duchess said.
The butler nodded, bowed, and took his leave.
The duchess resumed her seat and patted the space next to her to indicate that Erienne should sit there. Erienne lowered herself as gracefully as possible to the settee and blinked at the duchess. Did great ladies stand and greet potential governesses in such a friendly fashion?
Apparently this one did, but it was entirely unexpected. And to have tea ordered as if they were friends sitting down to gossip? Quite unexpected indeed. Erienne had heard the Duchess of Claringdon was beautiful and lively, but she hadn’t quite expected…this. The lady was beautiful, however. That much was true. Even more so up close. She had two different-colored eyes, one hazel, one blue, and her smile was both friendly and mischievous.
Erienne folded her sweating hands in her lap and watched the pretty duchess carefully.
The grand lady’s next words surprised her. “How old are you, Miss Stone?”
“Pardon?” Surely she’d heard the woman incorrectly.
“I do hope you don’t think I’m being rude,” the duchess continued, “but I wondered if you were near my husband’s age.”
Apprehension skittered along Erienne’s spine. “I turned two and thirty this year, your grace.”
The duchess tapped a manicured finger against her cheek and narrowed her eyes as if deep in thought. “And you come from Brighton, correct? That’s what your letter of recommendation said.”
“Most recently, I came from Shropsbury,” Erienne replied. Brighton? Had Mrs. Griggs mentioned Brighton?
The duchess frowned. “Have you ever been married?”
Erienne furrowed her brow. These weren’t precisely the questions she’d expected when she’d accepted this interview. What did her birthplace or potential marital status have to do with being a governess? “I’m highly qualified, your grace. I spent the last fourteen years with Baron and Lady Hilltop. They wrote me a lovely letter of recommendation. Would you care to see it?”
“Yes. Of course I believe you’re highly qualified as a governess, Miss Stone. It’s just that…”
The butler interrupted the duchess when he stepped into the room with the tea tray. While he went about setting it on the little table and arranging everything just so, Erienne shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Oddly, the duchess never once took her unusual gaze from Erienne’s face, as though the woman found her like some kind of compelling puzzle to be turned this way and that.
“Tea?” the duchess finally asked Erienne, mercifully turning her attention to the tray.
Erienne had never been served tea by a duchess before, but she felt it might be rude to refuse it after the woman had gone to the trouble of having it delivered. “Yes, please?” It emerged as more of a question than a request.
Perhaps fine London households did this sort of thing. Erienne’s friend Rebecca, who worked as Lady Hilltop’s personal maid, had worked in London previously. But Rebecca hadn’t mentioned any of these things. Now that Erienne considered it, however, Rebecca had worked for a viscountess. Perhaps a duchess did things like serve tea to servants. It all seemed quite odd and uncomfortable, however.
The duchess poured Erienne a cup of tea. “Sugar?” she asked.