Geek Girls Don't Date Dukes

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? He must prevent her from another catastrophe. Making a quick decision, he lifted a discarded teacup as a pretense 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.

* * *

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.

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.

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. When he supposedly ran off to the colonies, she came to be in my employ.” Lady Chesterfield patted Leah’s cheek. “Muriel has told me the most fantastic stories about a woman named Jamie Marten, and you know, I am inclined to believe her. A young woman who traveled through a bureau’s mirror in order to find her true love. A bureau that has recently been purchased by the Duke of Granville. Now quickly, before they know we are missing. Are you also here to search for your true love, as Jamie was?”

Hope and relief slammed into Leah’s forehead, and she swayed unsteadily. Her yes came out half gasp, half laugh.

Lady Chesterfield grabbed Leah’s hands and held her steady. “And do you need assistance in that quest?”

“Holy crap, yes. It’s tough to land a duke without any help. But why would you want to help me?” Even though Leah desperately wanted to grab Lady Chesterfield’s help with both hands and take off running, possibly do some parkour down St. James’s Place, she couldn’t help but be worried that this might be too damn good to believe.

But the woman’s smile was as sincere and kind as any she’d seen. “Because I’ve had my own dear husband, and he was everything to me. Now that he’s gone, I can amuse myself as I damn well please. And I like you, dear. You remind me of a very young Amelia Florin, and that’s the truth.” She pressed a delighted kiss to Leah’s forehead. “Now, we must plan. Presenting you into society will not be easy, but we can do it if we are careful. Here’s what you must do to avoid suspicion.”

As Lady Chesterfield outlined her plan for the next twenty-four hours, Leah’s excitement grew. Firstly, no more chamber pot emptying. Lady Chesterfield laughed when Leah offered to be a parlor maid in her house too. Leah didn’t hide her relief at that. Everyone knew she wasn’t cut out for the domestic servitude life.

After sponging off Lady Chesterfield’s skirt with a damp cloth, they returned to the party. Leah was careful to keep her face calm and her hands steady as she tended to the refreshment table, but damn was she dancing inside. This was it! This was the way she’d imagined her trip into the past. She’d go to balls and routs and teas and soirees and masques and house parties and hunts and rides in the park…

“Ramsey.”

She jumped. “Yes?”

“Fetch a fresh pot of tea,” Mrs. Harper sniffed. “Silly girl, whatever you are dreaming of I can never know.”

Damn skippy, Q-tippy, Leah thought with an internal snort. They didn’t have drugs good enough to give Mrs. Harper a dream this awesome.

And in just a little while, Leah would be living it.

The rest of the evening proceeded uneventfully, fortunately. After two near disasters, Leah was petrified that the third time would be the charm. She managed to keep quiet and out of the way of the other servants and guests. But it was kind of tough to stay away from the duke. Now that she knew she’d get a chance to meet Wymond—holy shit, his name was Wymond ?—on equal ground, she had to avoid him as much as possible. Their only time together so far had been so brief and unmemorable, at least for him, that Lady Chesterfield thought it would be best to keep their real introductions for society. After all, if anyone figured out that Leah was a servant, the duke wouldn’t look at her twice—certainly not to figure out if she was good enough to marry.

So despite her desire to get to know him, Leah kept her distance while the party wound down, and he and the dowager said farewell to their guests. When there were only a few old women left, he kissed his mother on the cheek and took his leave.

Leah sighed in a mixture of relief and disappointment. Oh well. It’d all be worth it in the end.

She was hefting a tray toward the kitchens when she passed Avery in the hallway.