“What kind of arrangements?” Kendra asked warily.
Mrs. Danbury lifted a heavy leather-bound book off the side shelf. “Sleeping arrangements, for one.” She opened the ledger, studying the pages with a critical eye. “All the castle’s spare rooms are occupied with either guests or their servants for the duration of the house party. However—”
“I don’t need to move out of the room that I’m in.”
The housekeeper lifted her brows. “Miss Donovan, you are no longer a servant . . . precisely. It wouldn’t be proper to sleep in the same room as a servant, especially a tweeny.”
“Says who?”
“Those are the rules, Miss Donovan.”
Fuck the rules, Kendra wanted to say. She wondered what the housekeeper’s reaction to that would be. Probably she’d faint dead away. “I’d prefer to stay where I am.”
“It’s not up to you! Lady Rebecca will decide, as you are now her responsibility.”
Frustration knotted Kendra’s stomach. “I’m my own responsibility!”
“The minute you set foot in Aldridge Castle, you were someone else’s responsibility, Miss Donovan,” the other woman corrected with a look of cold dislike. “As a maid, you were entirely dependent on the Duke’s largesse. And now you shall be answerable to Lady Rebecca. While you’ve managed to better yourself in a most extraordinary manner, I’d strongly advise you not to forget yourself, Miss Donovan. This is not America, where ill-mannered commoners pretend to be their betters. In England, we have a system, and you must learn your place in that system.”
Hell, no, Kendra thought, but clamped down on her rising irritation. Instead, she forced a smile as she stood. “I’m sure Lady Rebecca will agree that there’s no reason for me to change rooms. I’ll talk to her about it.”
She went to the door.
“Miss Donovan?”
Kendra paused. “Yes?”
“Why in heaven’s name do you insist on sharing a bedchamber with a tweeny?” Mrs. Danbury sounded genuinely baffled.
Kendra stared at her, momentarily at a loss. “Because it’s my choice, Mrs. Danbury,” she finally said. “It’s my choice.”
“You want to share a room with a chambermaid?” Lady Rebecca paused in the act of pouring tea.
“She’s a tweeny. And, yes, I see no reason to sleep anywhere else.” Kendra was beginning to feel slightly foolish for digging in her heels on this particular matter. After all, why did she care where she slept, as long as she eventually slept somewhere in the twenty-first century? That should be her main priority.
But, as she told Mrs. Danbury, it was her choice to sleep where she goddamned pleased. She was tired of everything being out of her control. This, at least, she could control.
Now she looked at Lady Rebecca, ready to argue, but the other woman simply shrugged and continued pouring tea. “As you wish. How do you take your tea—white or black?”
She found herself deflating. “Black. One sugar.”
Rebecca suppressed a smile as she added the lump of sugar, and thought how utterly absurd it was that she was serving tea to her companion, not the other way around. And yet Kendra appeared to find nothing abnormal about the tableau. The American was a puzzle. She understood why both the Duke and Alec were intrigued by her.
“You shall need a new wardrobe, of course.” She lifted the teacup and saucer and handed them to Kendra. “I have taken the liberty of sending for the local modiste, but Mary shall begin by taking your measurements.”
They were sitting at a small table positioned in front of a window in Lady Rebecca’s bedroom, a generously appointed space with ivory silk walls, rich mahogany furnishings, and an enormous velvet canopied bed done in the colors of ancient amber. It suited her, Kendra thought as she glanced at the other woman. Despite her disfiguring scars, Lady Rebecca presented a quaint, old-fashioned picture, pouring tea from the dainty porcelain pot, wearing her high-waisted, blue-sprigged muslin gown with her auburn hair swept into a charming topknot.
“What exactly does a companion do?”
Rebecca smiled. “You don’t have paid companions in America? How very primitive.”
So are chamber pots, Kendra thought. “Primitive is a relative term.”
“Indeed. Well, a Lady usually hires a companion to see to her needs. Fetching one’s shawl or fan. Providing amusing company. Don’t fret, Miss Donovan. We both know that I didn’t offer you this position so you could entertain me. As you are no longer a servant, you will be allowed to attend the evening festivities. It will give you a chance to converse with people.” She paused. “Although I suggest you adopt a demure disposition tonight at dinner. Lady Atwood was not pleased with my unorthodox decision to elevate your status.”