The rest of the way to the house, he kept up his long string of to-do’s for the party. She nodded, she asked questions, she kept from tripping on the long skirts of a tall-hatted woman, but Avery’s insistence and seeming nervousness grew the closer they got to Granville House.
On the third time he’d reminded her not to speak unless spoken to, she kind of blew up.
“All right, fine, I get it.” She threw her hands in the air as she stomped after him. “I’m not a complete idiot, you know. You can stop treating me like I’m stupid any damn time now.”
He sighed. She nearly crowed in relief at the sight of Granville house in the distance. The lecture would have to stop soon.
“I know that you are not stupid, Miss Ramsey. But the dowager…” He trailed off, lifting his hat to shove stray strands of his honey-colored hair back from his face.
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Leah tried really hard not to notice how golden it looked
in the fiery light of the setting sun. They continued down the street, Avery’s steps heavy and plodding, Leah’s lighter and excited at the prospect of sitting down. And dinner. Her stomach was growling.
“The dowager will murder me if I screw this up.” She finished the sentence for him.
He laughed uncomfortably. “That is closer to the truth than you think.”
She bit her lip in consternation as he descended the stairs to the servant’s entrance.
“Avery?”
He stopped before opening the door. “Yes, Miss Ramsey?”
“Thank you.” Leah bowed her head. “For everything.” The words weren’t enough, but she didn’t have anything else to offer him.
Avery didn’t answer. He just gave a solemn nod and held the door open for her.
She passed him, wondering exactly what to make of the afternoon. There was a crap ton to sift through, that was for damn sure.
Avery disappeared up the stairs after making sure the coast was clear. Apparently, he didn’t want anyone to know he’d spent the afternoon with Leah. She tried really hard to be irritated about that, but she couldn’t. She unbuttoned the cloak she’d been given as part of her uniform and hung it by the door with a sigh. He’d been through a lot today, and despite that, he’d still made sure she knew what to do tomorrow. Her jaw cracked as she yawned. Besides, she was too freaking tired to be upset. Maybe later.
Mrs. Harper came around the corner in a white-haired cloud of irritation.
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“Oh, Ramsey. There you are. Please take this tray up to His Grace’s study.”
Screw being tired. She’d just been given a ticket straight to ducal town.
“No problem.” She bobbed her head to Mrs. Harper and took the tea tray.
“Mind your speech, my girl. His Grace and an asso-ciate are in the drawing room. Be quick now.”
Leah walked carefully in the direction of the drawing room. Fortunately, she had a pretty good sense of direction. She’d had to develop one, because Jamie’s was totally hopeless. After the third time getting lost in Jamie’s neighborhood, she’d consciously developed the habit of paying attention to her surroundings.
Let’s see, door, hallway table, portrait of the guy who looks like Jabba the Hutt, another door, another door, aaaaand, drawing room.
She stared at the door. It was closed. She stared at her hands. They were full of tea tray, pot, cups, scones, cookies— well, biscuits— and all. She looked back at the knob and pursed her lips.
“Well, damn,” she sighed.
Looking longingly at the floor—
it’d be so damn
easy to sit the tray down, just for a second to open the door— she instead turned and walked back the twelve feet to the hallway table. Setting the tray atop it, she trudged back to the doorway and opened the latch.
Pushing it open only a couple of inches, so as not to disturb the duke, she crossed back to the tray.
The click of the latch hit her like the bite from a fire ant.
“You freaking son of a bitch,” she fumed. Damn drafty houses.
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Stomping back toward the door, she opened it further
this time. She’d just returned with the tea tray, ready to push through the still-open portal, when the duke’s guest came through it.
“No need to ring, Granville, I’ll show myself out.
Have a pleasant evening.”
With a polite nod to his host, and not so much as a glance at Leah, the short, round gentleman headed toward the front door of the house.
“Your…Your grace?” Leah poked her head into the drawing room. “I have your tea tray. Do you still want it?”
“Yes, thank you. Set it down, please.”