floor.
Leah froze as the snoring stopped. God, she didn’t want to wake them up. It was going to be tough enough to sleep next to the prickly Henrietta without having to deal with her anger about being rudely awakened. She could just imagine the retaliation for that. And the other two, Sarah and…well, someone—she couldn’t remember the other girl’s name—had seemed nice enough, but she could just imagine the hell it would be living with three girls who couldn’t stand her.
The even breathing resumed, and Leah sighed with relief. She made quick work of the rest of her undressing, and tiptoed to the bedside wearing only her shift and bloomers. Propping her hands on her hips, she stared down at the bed.
Henrietta lay diagonally across the double bed, wrapped in the covers like a burrito. The only way Leah could fit in the bed at all would be to curl into the fetal position. Leah’s eyes narrowed, and her hands fisted by her sides.
That was just about enough for today.
More gently than she wanted, Leah pushed Henrietta’s legs over to the far side of the bed. The girl squeaked in alarm as Leah pulled the covers, lifting them up to straighten them with an irritated snap.
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, you stupid git?”
“Quiet,” Leah whispered. She slipped beneath the covers beside Henrietta. “Don’t wake the others. I had to make room. You were hogging the bed.”
And for that, Leah got a sharp kick to the shin. Gritting her teeth, she rolled to her side and bunched the pillow beneath her head. As much as she wanted to return the favor, she wouldn’t kick a kid. No matter how much this particular kid deserved it.
“Good night, Henrietta.”
“Go boil your ’ead.”
Leah closed her eyes.
To her surprise and delight, the face she saw in the darkness of her mind was aristocratic, thin, and handsome. Black hair shot through with distinguishing strands of silver framed it. A hand with long, slender fingers reached out to her, and she took it gratefully.
“Oh, my darling,” the duke, looking at least twenty years younger, whispered as he swept her into a waltz. “I have searched the world over for you.”
She reached up and touched his face. It was smoother than she’d expected, without the faint feel of beard stubble or any wrinkles at all. He was hard, not with muscle, but with skin stretched directly over bone. His hand was cool in hers, and the other bled a chill into the small of her back. She shivered.
“You are cold,” he said in his too-soft voice. “Let me warm you.”
She didn’t resist as he drew her close in his arms. Her heart thumped faster in excited delight. Her destined true love was holding her in his arms. Could anything be more perfect? She rested her cheek against his chest with a contented sigh.
It was cold.
She was pressed full against his body, but instead of the comforting warmth she’d expected, he was icy from head to toe. Pulling away from him, she looked up into his face.
And screamed.
“You simpleton, wake up.”
Leah sat bolt upright with a gasp, her eyes flying open. Sarah and the other girl were dressing across the room, the light from their candles dancing crazily as they chatted and giggled. Henrietta stood beside the bed, glaring down at Leah. In her hands was the blanket. No wonder Leah had dreamed about being cold.
“You will be late if you do not hurry. I shouldn’t care if you were, but Mrs. Harper bade me wake you.”
“Oh my gosh,” Leah moaned, gripping her head. It ached with a thumping pain. What a freaking weird dream. But she didn’t have time to analyze it. She swung her feet off the side of the bed and winced at the chilly touch of the wooden floor. Without a word to Leah, the other three girls left the room. If she hadn’t been so absorbed in her own headache, it might have bothered her. As it was, she could barely stagger over to the drawer in the bureau that had been designated as hers.
The predawn sky was lightening slightly, but even with a candle it was tough to dig her way through the drawer. Finally her fingers closed around a small leather pouch she’d secreted in her skirt before making her journey through the mirror. She opened the zipper with relief and spread the contraband on the windowsill.
A toothbrush and tube of toothpaste. Tampons. A bottle of Advil and a box of throat lozenges for the cold that had been threatening her since last week. A bar of her favorite vanilla and coconut soap, and a stick of deodorant. A picture of Pawpaw, smiling as he worked on an ancient tractor. She popped open the bottle of Advil and swallowed two dry. Looking down at the picture, she said, “Morning, Pawpaw.” She traced the photo with a fingernail. She’d ridden on that tractor many times as a child, her grandfather holding her securely in his lap. Things were so much simpler then.
Shaking off her reverie, she brushed her teeth with water from the pitcher and made quick work of washing off as best she could with a rag and her soap. She donned her uniform, wincing at the still-damp fabric. It couldn’t be helped though. By the time her hair was all tucked beneath her cap, her stockings were on, and her boots were laced, the black of night had faded to the hazy gray of early dawn on the horizon.
She gathered up her treasure trove and replaced the pouch in the drawer beneath her dress. Her headache was starting to fade around the edges a little, and gratitude flooded her as she descended the stairs to the servants’ hall. If nothing else, Jamie’s journey had prepared her to rough it here in the past. It wasn’t going to be easy, but she was sure she was up to the challenge.
Well, she thought she was, until she discovered just how much a pain in the ass being an underhousemaid could be.
“Good morning.” Leah smiled at Mrs. Harper as she descended the stairs.
The white-haired housekeeper scowled at her. “You are very nearly late again, Ramsey. Granville House servants are expected to be prompt at all times.”
Fighting the urge to protest, Leah scrambled to her seat at the dining table. Nobody else seemed to be there for breakfast yet, but clearly Mrs. Harper had risen from the wrong side of the coffin. No use fighting that kind of bad attitude. Clearly this woman needed to roll a solid plus five to positivity.
“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. The woman opened the curtains and kept moving as she 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
