Gales of feminine laughter from her corner of the refreshment table drew his attention. He gripped his hands tighter behind his back. Damn and blast. Whatever was she doing, speaking so animatedly to Lady Chesterfield?
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and crossed the crowded room toward them. The Baroness of Chesterfield was known throughout the ton for her mischievous, capricious nature. Best for him to stand at the ready, in case of unforeseen circumstances.
If he survived this hellish afternoon without the chit causing herself irreparable damage, it would be a miracle sent straight from God himself. No one else could have a hope of accomplishing such an impossible task.
i
Oh, she’d really fricking done it now. Leah clutched the teapot as if she could yank the steaming brown liquid back by sheer force of will. No such luck. It soaked into the shiny green satin of the woman’s skirt, a large stain that would probably never come out. Ever.
She didn’t know what had happened. She knew it wasn’t really the maid’s job to serve, only to see to the table, but when the woman had asked her for a cup, she’d agreed without thought. One minute she’d been pouring a cup of tea that the lady held out to her, and then suddenly the cup was three inches further to the left than it had been. The steady stream of tea had gone straight down, splattering against the woman’s skirt like rain pouring from a rooftop.
“Oh my God,” Leah moaned. “I am so, so sorry.”
Her hands shook as she put the pot back on the table and searched wildly for a towel, a cloth, something she could use to try to make this better.
The duke would kill her. His mother would kill her.
And if there were anything left after those two were done, Avery would kill her twice. He’d tried so hard to keep her from fucking this up.
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The woman laughed aloud, a sound that shocked Leah
to the core. What the heck?
“Oh, look at what I’ve done! I’ve spilled tea all over my gown, what a clumsy fool I am. Dear, would you mind accompanying me so I can put myself to rights?”
She held her hand out toward Leah.
Stupidity gummed up the thought gears in Leah’s head. What?
“Dear, can you assist me?” The woman smiled at Leah, the ostrich and peacock feathers atop her hat quivering sympathetically.
“Oh, oh! Yeah, I mean yes, of course.”
The conversation around them resumed as Leah followed the lady through the room, past a shocked-looking Avery, and into an unoccupied parlor across the hallway. The woman shut the door behind them with a click, then turned a serious look on Leah.
Sweat broke out along Leah’s forehead, and she stumbled backward a step. Better get talking quick, girl, or you’re screwed.
“Ma’am, I am very sorry. I only looked away for a second, and the cup was— ”
“Hush, dearie. We must speak before anyone follows us in here.” The lady sat on the chair in the corner, completely ignoring her damp and stained skirt. “I am Amelia Florin, Baroness of Chesterfield. I noticed that you have an odd accent. Where were you born?”
“Um.” Leah fought the urge to shove her hands into the pockets of her apron. Show no fear, Ramsey. Play your role. “I’m from the colonies.”
“Stuff and nonsense. The truth, dear, we’ve no time for prevarication.” A fan suddenly appeared in the woman’s hand, and she opened it with a snap.
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Leah gulped. “I’m from North Carolina.”
“And when, precisely, are you from?” She started fanning herself, never letting her steely gaze wander from Leah’s eyes. “I shall know if you lie to me, dear.”
The sweat spread from Leah’s forehead to her cheeks and chest. She wanted to pull the tight neck of her gown aside to get some air, but Lady Chesterfield’s gaze kept her frozen like a tonnish Medusa.
“Twenty thirteen,” Leah mumbled.
The woman rose, a self-satisfied smile on her face. “As I suspected.” She made a circle around Leah, who stood ramrod straight, confusion locking her muscles in place.
“How…how do you…”
“My lady’s maid is a most unusual girl. She used to serve in an earl’s household as a parlor maid, if you can believe it. A certain Micah Axelby, Earl of Dunnington.