Cook stood and grabbed Leah by the hand, dragging her into the darkened kitchen. Her voice was a sibilant hiss in the dim room. “Mind your tone with me, miss.
I’ve put me own position on the line by begging for yours, so you’ll keep a rein on your tongue or you’ll be out on the street. Mr. Russell prefers to be alone, and that’s all there is to it. Do not speak with him; do not seek him out. I cannot be any plainer.”
Leah’s brow furrowed and she bit her lip at the woman’s words, not liking a bit of it. There was a lot more going on in this house than it seemed. Avery was alone, but he seemed lonely too. Why wouldn’t anyone associate with him? Weren’t valets kind of high up in the ranks of domestic help?
When Leah didn’t respond right away, Cook gave her arm a little shake. “Promise me, lass. I’ll not leave go until you do.”
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“Fine, I promise.” The words spilled out reluctantly
and Leah pulled her arm free. The relief on the woman’s red face was plain.
“Good. It is time to retire, so go up with the others.
Not a word of this conversation to anyone.”
Without waiting for a reply, Cook turned and left Leah in the empty kitchen. Leah crossed her arms and furrowed her brow. What conversation? As far as Leah could tell, Cook had talked and Leah had listened, even though she didn’t understand a word of it.
Why would Cook be so adamant about Avery? It didn’t make any sense.
“Ramsey, as penance for your tardiness this evening, you will finish the scrubbing up,” Mrs. Harper said when Leah entered. In the few minutes she’d been with Cook in the kitchen, most everyone seemed to have cleared out. “You will find the scullery off the main kitchen there. Straight to your bed when you’ve done, and you are expected here for your tasks by five. I shall not be so lenient with your punishment if you are tardy again.
Tomorrow you will learn your regular duties. Granville House is one of the most respected homes in London, and you must work to maintain that status with the rest of us.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Leah said dutifully to the woman’s back as she exited the servant’s hall, leaving her completely alone. Man, they didn’t really go for friendly working relationships, did they? Or maybe it was just Leah.
Maybe they could tell she was way more familiar with the intimate workings of The Legend of Zelda than with a broom. In any case, she thought as she wandered through the dim kitchen to the smallish room on the side, she GeekGirlsDontDateDukes.indd 53
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would be pretty damn happy to see the end of her stint as maid, and she hadn’t even done any real work yet.
Pushing open the door to the scullery, Leah ground to a horrified halt. “Oh, hell no.”
It looked like an episode of Hoarders: Regency Edition.
Sticky dishes were piled everywhere, layered with crusts and molding bits of food. Large pots were stacked to one side of a huge basin, which was filled with grayish water.
Flies buzzed gleefully around the whole mucky scene.
Leah slammed her eyes shut. “This has got to be a joke.” Even without the vision in front of her, the smell of old food was proof enough that reality had a really cruel sense of humor.
What do you want, Leah? You want true love? You want to find a man that Pawpaw can feel good about you marrying?
Then here. Prove it. Do the best damn job you can. It’s the only way you’ll get the chance to win the game.
With a dejected sigh, Leah rolled up her sleeves and grabbed an apron. If she was lucky, she’d get this done in two hours, which would mean a good six hours of sleep.
She could operate on that. She hoped.
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Seven
She wasn’t lucky. Not only was she not lucky, she was almost completely sure that Mrs. Knightsbridge had put some kind of curse on her before shoving her through that mirror.
She didn’t shove you. You practically dived face-first into that bureau’s glass front. “Don’t worry, Pawpaw. I’ll go off and have an adventure and find super-husband and everything will be perfect!” Typical Leah. Idiot.
The dishwater splashed into Leah’s face as she slammed the plate down into it. A drop hit her tongue, and she nearly gagged. Wiping her face against her arm, she sighed and resumed scrubbing.
It was after midnight according to the bonging she heard from somewhere in the house, and she still had three pots to scour. Her hands were pale and wrinkled like raisins. Her nails were jagged, her mobcap was slipping, and to make things worse, a large brown spider was working in a dusty corner directly in front of Leah.
She had to stand as far away from the basin as possible to avoid any chance of contact. Arachnophobia wasn’t one of those things she could just suck it up and deal with.
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