‘Looks like you’re doing a fine job looking after that young man,’ the Duke said. ‘He couldn’t be in better hands, could he, my dear?’ The Duke approached Harriet with the intention of paying for his daughter’s hair styling, but Nellie waved her hand to let him know there was no charge.
‘Right kind of you, my dear, but I suppose the cost is already being covered.’ The Duke gave a curious laugh and sent Nellie a quick wink.
Lady Cecily put back the combs she had been observing and turned to the Duke. ‘If you’re finished, Father, shall we depart? I want to do some shopping before we leave London.’
It seemed this was to be their only visit to Mr Lockhart. Nellie would have expected Lady Cecily to want to stay in town, visit him every day, even keep vigil by his bed until he was better. Wasn’t that what you should do for the man you intend to marry? It would appear not.
The Duke of Ashmore opened the door for his daughter and Nellie accompanied them out of the shop. Lady Cecily took the footman’s hand and entered the waiting carriage. Once she was inside the Duke turned to Nellie.
‘I just want to let you know I have no objection to Dominic keeping a mistress—after all, what man doesn’t?’ he whispered. ‘And I thank you for your discretion in front of my daughter. But if my daughter ever finds out, then I’ll ruin Dominic, and that won’t be good for you either, so bear that in mind, my dear.’ With that he walked off briskly to the carriage and drove off down the street, leaving a disorientated Nellie standing at the open door of her shop wondering whether she had heard correctly.
‘Nellie, are you all right?’ Harriet asked.
Nellie retreated into the shop and tried to make sense of what the Duke had just said. He thought she was Mr Lockhart’s mistress. What’s more, he didn’t care, as long as his daughter didn’t know. She looked at her two assistants and the smiling customer. It seemed no one had heard the Duke’s outrageous words, but that didn’t diminish Nellie’s shock.
But she had to pull herself together, she still had work to do. She ushered her customer into the parlour and, as expected, the woman seem to take it as a personal compliment that she’d had to wait for someone as esteemed as the daughter of the Duke of Ashmore and that was all she wanted to talk about.
Nellie let her prattle on, while her mind tried to make sense of the Duke’s shocking accusation. He didn’t care if Dominic had a mistress. Did Lady Cecily care? Did Dominic? She had no idea. The only thing she knew for certain was it was something about which she cared very much.
Chapter Eleven
Nellie slowly climbed the stairs at the end of her busy working day. It wasn’t weariness that was causing her to be so sluggish—she enjoyed her work and was energised by it. She was suddenly uncomfortable about having Mr Lockhart in her rooms. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so stubborn. She should have let the valet arrange for a nurse to attend to him while she stayed at a hotel. Then there would be no confusion. The Duke of Ashmore would realise she was merely someone who was helping Mr Lockhart in his time of need and was most definitely not his mistress. And she would also be clear in her own mind. Having him in her rooms, insisting that she alone would nurse him back to health, did suggest that she felt something for Mr Lockhart. Did she feel something for him, other than compassion because of his injuries and guilt because she was the cause of them?
She paused on the stairs. Her feelings might be confused, but one thing she knew for certain. The Duke was wrong. She did not want to be Mr Lockhart’s mistress. She did not want to be any man’s mistress. The Duke was right that men from his class often kept a woman of Nellie’s class as their little bit on the side. But he was wrong about Nellie. She would never become involved in such an arrangement. She would never be some rich man’s plaything.
She continued walking up the stairs. But who cared what the Duke of Ashmore thought? Not her, that was for sure. He meant nothing to her. So, she wasn’t going to change her living arrangements just to prove the Duke wrong. She didn’t want to stay in a hotel. Nor did she want some stranger in her rooms. And she certainly did not want that condescending valet thinking that he could order her around and tell her what to do in her own home. He might be able to boss around the rest of Mr Lockhart’s servants, but he couldn’t boss her around.
She reached the top of the stairs, puffed up with indignation at the very idea that the valet thought he could tell her what to do. Then she paused at the door, gripping the handle and took in a few breaths. Mr Lockhart did not need her self-righteous indignation, nor her offended pride. She would forget all about what the Duke had said, forget that look of disapproval from the valet and put aside her confused emotions. Instead, she would concentrate on the task at hand, making sure Mr Lockhart recovered from his injuries as quickly as possible so he could return home. Opening the door, she put on her sunniest smile.
‘How are you feeling now?’ she asked, her voice sounding overly jolly.
He smiled at her, then winced when given a painful reminder of his split lip. ‘Much better, thank you. The pain is easing so I don’t think I’ve got a broken rib or have any other internal damage. Both doctors said if the
