Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
And I didn’t plan on helping him rebuild it.
CHAPTER 2
MADELEINE
Just as they always did when my father hosted his house parties, the kitchens bustled with activity around me. But this time, I sensed an unmistakable difference, tension drawn about us as tightly as a hangman’s noose, the inevitable feeling of doom hovering in the air.
My stomach growled angrily as I moved past a tray of honey cakes Cook had prepared earlier. I hadn’t eaten since the night before with the other servants at dinner. The urge to take one was strong, despite the punishment I knew I would face if I were caught.
“Madeleine!”
I winced as the strident voice of the housekeeper, Mrs. Wells, echoed off the kitchen walls, cracking with the warning of a whip.
Leaving the honey cakes, I skirted a scarred table and emerged from behind a towering collection of pots that were all in need of cleaning. Fewer hands in the kitchen meant more work for everyone, and we were down to just one scullery maid.
I curtsied before Mrs. Wells, knowing that the slightest hint of tarrying or lack of deference would earn me a vicious reprimand.
“Yes, Mrs. Wells?” I asked, careful to keep my voice low and subservient, to avert my gaze in humility.
“There has been a spill in the drawing room. You are to hasten there at once and clean it.”
“Of course, Mrs. Wells.”
My stomach rumbled again, and I felt warmth creeping up my throat. I hoped the sound wasn’t loud enough to carry to the housekeeper. There hadn’t been time for breaking my fast this morning with the seemingly endless tasks heaped upon me, given the arrival of so many guests, and then morning had loomed into afternoon. I had scarcely had time to open the windows, clean the ashes from the hearths, and sweep and beat the carpets in the main rooms before I was needed in the kitchens.
Mrs. Wells’s eyes narrowed. “Return to me when you’ve completed your task. There is a great deal more to be done.”
“Yes, Mrs. Wells.”
I curtsied again and wasted no time in fetching some cloths, water, and soap. I was certainly in no hurry to get back to the drudgery awaiting my return belowstairs, but my father would expect the spill to be treated forthwith. Appearances were of the utmost importance to him.
I emerged from the servant stairs, careful to keep water from sloshing onto the floor. The low rumble of masculine voices in the drawing room grew more pronounced as I approached. In preparation for the card games my father was hosting during the house party, a large table had been moved into place in the center of the chamber. It was ringed with chairs I had rubbed with cold-drawn linseed oil to restore some of their luster a few days ago.
Those chairs were now occupied with an assortment of gentlemen, all of whom were unfamiliar to me except one. My father didn’t spare me a glance as I entered the room with another curtsy. No one else did either. They were far too concerned with their amusements to take note of a mere chambermaid.
I preferred it that way. For a woman in my position, no male attention could possibly be good male attention. Keeping my head lowered, I moved silently, in search of the spill.
“Over there, girl,” my father said harshly, making a dismissive gesture with his right hand.
The signet ring he ordinarily wore on his smallest finger was absent. I wondered if he had lost it to one of the gentlemen seated at the table as I moved to the Axminster and discovered a large puddle of what appeared to be red wine soaking into the intricate floral design. I suppressed a sigh at the sight. If my father would have allowed me to have a drugget placed beneath the table as I had recommended, the stain would have soaked into the removable textile instead of the costly carpet he couldn’t afford to replace.
I set to work blotting up the stain with my cloths, soaking up as much of the wine as I was able. As I pressed my hands into the carpets, grateful for the protection of my gloves against the burn of the harsh soap and water on my palms, I slowly became aware that I was being watched. A furtive glance in my father’s direction sent relief cascading through me. He was ruminating upon the cards he held in his hand.
But all my relief fled when I flicked my glance two seats down and my gaze briefly clashed with a dark-eyed stare. My breath caught in my throat. Good heavens. The gentleman was elegantly dressed and solidly built, with broad shoulders and brown hair that was long enough to be constrained at his nape in a queue. He possessed a wide, strong jaw and high cheekbones, and a nose that was almost sharp. Intelligence sparkled in his curious gaze.