Leah stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, her jaw working soundlessly. Mrs. Harper had just listed about two weeks’ worth of housework, and she was supposed to get all this done before breakfast?
“I’m sorry,” Leah said, surging forward to intercept the housekeeper before she could launch into another list of duties. “I don’t think I heard correctly. I thought you said all this had to be done before breakfast.”
Mrs. Harper’s mouth pursed. “That is what I said, yes. It is the duty of a maid in your position to assist in all these tasks. You are capable, I trust?”
“Of course,” Leah said hopefully.
“Now then,” Mrs. Harper sniffed, “go along to your duties. Henrietta and Sara are attending to the breakfast room, so you may proceed to His Grace’s dressing chambers. Once you have put them to rights, come down and attend to the library. I shall direct your movements thereafter.”
After shoving a coal scuttle and cleaning rags into Leah’s hands, Mrs. Harper shooed her toward the duke’s dressing rooms.
Timing her footsteps with the throbbing in her head, Leah mounted the stairs, trying like hell to figure out where this adventure had gone so horribly wrong. She had a terrifying idea that
She hadn’t planned on cleaning the man’s toilet before she’d even had the chance to say hello.
Avery rolled to his side on the thin mattress, his breath hitching as his injured ribs caught with the movement. Dropping his feet to the chilly floor, he rose, gritting his teeth against the heavy pain of his bruises. A deep breath blew the worst of the pain away, and he was able to bend and light the candle at his bedside.
Dashing chilly water against his face, he made quick work of his morning ablutions, careful of his healing skin. Much as he hated to admit it, his wounds were not as bothersome as they could have been, thanks to Miss Ramsey’s attentions. The rough cotton towel scraped against his throat.
Miss Ramsey. Leah. The memory of the strange and beautiful girl stirred feelings that it should not. But the concern on her face, the tender way she’d bandaged his ribs, the sweet scent of her…
He bit back a curse. He should not think of her, no matter how kindly she’d treated him. The girl wanted to repay his kindness in helping her gain a position in the house. Ascribing any more importance to the gesture would be folly. He did not have the luxury of courtship, and even were he so inclined, she was destined for a much more advantageous match than with a man such as he. Whether or not she would wed the duke, a woman that beautiful deserved a mate who was her match. And Avery was certainly the farthest man from that.
He dressed quickly, having wasted much more time considering Miss Ramsey than he could afford. Avery set his jaw and proceeded down the stairs to His Grace’s dressing chambers. His duties would not wait for his dreams to end.
As he neared the dressing room, hissed curses met his ears. Quickening his stride, he arrived at the door just in time to discover the source of the commotion.
Leah stood with one slipper toeing His Grace’s chamber pot across the polished floor, her skirts caught high against her thighs and her fingers pinching her nostrils shut. The lid slipped and clanged as she prodded the pot gingerly with her toes, her whispered oaths coming fast on the heels of each clatter.
“Miss Ramsey,” Avery choked out, pointedly ignoring the delectable length of leg her indecent show displayed, “whatever are you doing?”
“I’m trying to get this out of here.” She punctuated her statement with a particularly hard shove of her slipper on the upper portion of the receptacle. Only Avery’s quick thinking and faster movement prevented the chamber pot from tipping over and spilling its contents over the costly carpeting.
He set the pot upright, then lowered his brows into a glower. “You must be silent, or you’ll wake His Grace. Take this down to empty into the slops jar outside the house. The night soil man collects it there.”
She didn’t release her nostrils, speaking in an odd, nasally tone. “I can’t touch that.”
“Whyever not?” Frustration ran rampant through his brain, and he fought to keep a civil tongue.
“It’s someone else’s shit. Literally. I can’t possibly carry that without some kind of sanitary protection. Rubber gloves, a hazmat suit, a bomb shelter, something.”
Avery tamped down the urge to throttle the beautiful chit. It was a very near thing. “You requested a position in this household. You informed me that you were capable of a housemaid’s duties. Are you now saying that you misled me to acquire the post?”
An angry blush climbed her cheeks, only managing to make her look lovelier. “You know I didn’t lie to you. I told you, I can do this job. But listen, I have zero desire to die of some horrible disease because of a cavalier attitude toward human excrement.” She crossed her arms. Even in her plain, high-necked gown, her chest rounded with the pose.
His mouth went dry, and he nearly choked as he tried to swallow. Though he was irritated, his desire for her grew. How could it not? She was defiant, strong, and determined. The muscles in his legs tensed, readying him to cross the room to her. Instead, he bent down and lifted the chamber pot. Though he knew he should not, he could not resist a parting shot as he turned and crossed to the door.
“I shall remove the slops for you this time, Miss Ramsey. But perhaps you should rethink your decidedly unwomanly attitude before you meet His Grace.”
Her shocked gasp followed him down the stairs, and he let a small smile of triumph stretch his lips. It had been the most egregious lie, but it had been worth it to anger her. She angered and frustrated him to no end. Let her taste her own medicine.
Passing Henrietta on his way down the back stairs, he nodded a polite greeting and tried to ignore the young maid’s disdainful scowl. Even his fellow servant’s dislike could not temper his satisfaction at having spoken so to Miss Ramsey. She was far too idealistic, and if he could disabuse her of her starry-eyed notions before she followed them into trouble, then so much the better.
His personal satisfaction was simply a bonus.
Avery disappeared through the dressing room door carrying that disgusting chamber pot and leaving a completely stunned Leah in his wake.
Unwomanly? Had he seriously just told her that? She looked down at the floor where the chamber pot had been only a moment before. The last thing in the world she’d wanted was to carry a toilet down the stairs to empty it in the backyard. But she hadn’t asked Avery for help, and she certainly hadn’t expected him to snark at her like that.
Biting her lip, she bent and rolled up the rug in front of the hearth. What could Avery have meant by that? Was it to be expected from a man who was unused to having a woman speak her mind? Or was it something more? She blew an exasperated breath as she straightened. She wasn’t exactly the most graceful and soft-spoken of women, but did that make a difference in this time?
Mrs. Knightsbridge hadn’t given her much to go on. As she dragged the rolled up rug toward the door, she recounted the lady’s words.
Leaving the rug propped against the jamb like an overgrown and drunken Cuban cigar, Leah dusted off her hands with a decisive snap. It didn’t matter what Avery thought. She liked herself just fine, and her destined true love would adore her just the way she was.
She grabbed the fireplace brush and began raking the ashes out of the fireplace.
The pointed clearing of a throat brought Leah’s head around. Holy crap, it was the duke himself. Almost like
