“What are you doing?” Mrs. Harper’s nostrils flared.
Leah put on her best contrite look. “Aren’t we having breakfast?”
The housekeeper looked at her as if she’d shat in His Grace’s boots. “You must work to earn your breakfast, girl. Now follow me.”
Blowing out an exasperated breath, Leah rose and trudged after the housekeeper. Was she ever going to stop screwing up? It hadn’t seemed like being a servant should be this hard. Hopefully she’d just polish a few pieces of silver and then have a good breakfast to make up for her lack of sleep. Longing for the coziness of her memory-foam mattress, she followed Mrs. Harper down the dim hallway.
“Attend me, Ramsey.” Mrs. Harper’s heels clicked on the polished wood floors, and Leah hustled to keep up with her. “These tasks are to be done every morning upon rising. The house must be cleaned and aired, all superfluous articles put into their proper places, the fireplaces and hearths brushed up. The hearths all washed with soap and water, then carefully wiped dry with linen cloth and new fires laid.” Leah hurried into a sitting room behind Mrs. Harper, who didn’t slow down at all.
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spoke. “Sweep all the carpets, then turn up the corners to sweep away the dust upon the floor. Dust the window sashes, and once or twice a week shake out the window curtains and hangings. Are you attending me?”
All Leah could do was nod her head numbly. Her brain throbbed, her headache having returned with a vengeance. The enormity of her new job pressing in on her, she followed Mrs. Harper through room after room as the housekeeper pointed out different tasks for her to complete. Why hadn’t she smuggled a vacuum and some Magic Erasers through the mirror with her? This was going to take forever.
“Attend to His Grace’s dressing room, and the dressing rooms of any guests we have in residence. Empty the slops, replenish the ewers with fresh water, clean the fireplaces, brush the carpets, sweep the room, and make ready for the valet to attend His Grace’s dressing. Once these tasks have been completed, you may then, and only then, come down to your breakfast.”
Leah stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, her jaw working soundlessly. Mrs. Harper had just listed about two weeks worth of housework, and she was supposed to get all this done before breakfast?
“I’m sorry,” Leah said, surging forward to intercept the housekeeper before she could launch into another list of duties. “I don’t think I heard correctly. I thought you said all this had to be done before breakfast.”
Mrs. Harper’s mouth pursed. “That is what I said, yes.
It is the duty of a maid in your position to assist in all these tasks. You are capable, I trust?”
“Of course,” Leah said hopefully. Assist was a good word. There were other maids, so maybe that giant list GeekGirlsDontDateDukes.indd 72
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the old bat had just rattled off was to be divided among
them all. If not, Leah probably wouldn’t be eating breakfast for a few days. Weeks, maybe.
“Now then,” Mrs. Harper sniffed, “go along with your duties. Henrietta and Sara are attending to the breakfast room, so you may proceed to His Grace’s dressing chambers. Once you have put them to rights, come down and attend to the library. I shall direct your movements thereafter.”
After shoving a coal scuttle and cleaning rags into Leah’s hands, Mrs. Harper shooed her toward the duke’s dressing rooms.
Timing her footsteps with the throbbing in her head, Leah mounted the stairs, trying like hell to figure out where this adventure had gone so horribly wrong. She had a terrifying idea that empty the slops meant take care of the chamber pot.
She hadn’t planned on cleaning the man’s toilet before she’d even had the chance to say hello.
i
Avery rolled to his side on the thin mattress, his breath hitching as his injured ribs caught with the movement.
Dropping his feet to the chilly floor, he rose, gritting his teeth against the heavy pain of his bruises. A deep breath blew the worst of the pain away, and he was able to bend and light the candle at his bedside.
Dashing chilly water against his face, he made quick work of his morning ablutions, careful of his healing skin.
Much as he hated to admit it, his wounds were not as both-ersome as they could have been, thanks to Miss Ramsey’s attentions. The rough cotton towel scraped against throat.
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