‘You don’t need to go to that much trouble, really.’
‘Yes, I do and it’s not trouble. You will be well compensated for your time. I will arrange for first-class train tickets to be sent to you and for transport to and from the station. The coachman will be instructed to take you back to the station whenever you require. I hope that will be satisfactory.’
‘More than satisfactory.’
He remained standing at the cab door. There was nothing more to say, except goodbye, but that simple word would not come.
The impatient horse snorted. ‘Ready when you are, guvnor,’ the driver said.
Dominic had no choice. It was time to leave. ‘Goodbye, Miss Regan,’ he said quietly.
‘Goodbye, Mr Lockhart.’ She sent him a surprisingly shy smile.
He climbed into the cab and shut the door. As he drove off through the busy London street a heaviness settled on him, as if he had lost something that he would never find again.
Chapter Thirteen
Lockhart Estate was even grander than Nellie had expected. Mr Lockhart’s Belgravia town house had stated loud and clear that he was a man of wealth, but this magnificent three-storey mansion, surrounded by sweeping lawns adorned with fountains and statues, clearly showed that he was every bit as wealthy as the aristocracy he so blatantly wanted to join.
The carriage drove up the long, tree-lined drive, through the ornate gold and black wrought-iron gates and past the formal garden in front of the house. Nellie fought hard not to be overawed by the grandeur. But she was fighting a losing battle. How could she not be overawed by such splendid surroundings? How could she not wonder what he thought of her humble little rooms above her shop and parlour?
If Nellie still harboured any foolish illusions about herself and Mr Lockhart, this house had swept them all away. Even fantasising that a man who lived in such a place could ever mean anything to her was so ludicrous it was laughable. This was his world and it was as far removed from Nellie’s small business and two-room living quarters as it was possible to get.
He had the wealth. Now all he needed was the position in society, and Lady Cecily would provide that. He might have shown a spark of interest in a former servant with a small but growing business, when he was recovering in her rooms, but that’s all it ever would be, a tiny spark of interest that would never ignite into a bigger flame.
The carriage pulled up in front of the grand entrance. Nellie looked up at the imposing façade containing so many arched windows it seemed impossible to count them all. The house was big enough to accommodate all the families in her neighbourhood, with plenty of room to spare.
She lowered her head and remained frozen in her seat. She was going to stay in this home that was nothing short of a mansion. She had visited other stately homes when she was a lady’s maid, but this time it was different. She was the one who had been invited, not her mistress. She wasn’t going to be sleeping in the servants’ quarters. She was almost, but not quite, a guest.
This was what she wanted. She had made it clear that she was not a servant and would not be treated like one. But perhaps she should have just accepted her place. Perhaps she shouldn’t have tried to be grander, more important than she actually was. Nellie drew in a long, sustaining breath and exhaled slowly. It was too late to turn back now.
Oh, well, Nellie Regan, you’ve made your bed and now you’re going to have to lie in it. At least you’ll be lying in a comfortable, feather bed with silk bedcovers.
She looked away from the splendid house and stared straight ahead. She could do this. She just had to remember to behave herself, for once in her life.
Remember, you’ve already caused enough trouble for Mr Lockhart. So, no insults, no impersonations and no snide comments about the idle rich. You will be polite, courteous and a right little lady at all times.
The footman opened the door and helped her out of the carriage. Nellie forced herself to act as if arriving at the front door of such a stunning stately home was an everyday event for her.
The large, intricately carved wooden doors flew open and a smiling young woman raced down the stairs. ‘Miss Regan?’ she called out as she ran.
When Nellie nodded, the young woman’s smile grew even bigger. ‘I’m Amanda Lockhart. I’m so pleased you could come.’ She clasped both of Nellie’s hands. ‘It’s so good of you to agree to do my hair for tonight’s ball. I couldn’t believe it when Dominic told me, I was so thrilled.’
Still chatting excitedly, she led Nellie up the stairs and through the house. Nellie tried not to stare as they walked through the magnificent entrance hall, with its domed stained-glass roof, pink-marble tiled floors and columns, walls adorned with paintings, and statues, urns and antiques. Nellie gripped the carved wooden banister to steady herself as Miss Lockhart raced her up the marble stairs, then quickly followed her as she all but ran along the long corridor to her room.
She sat down at her dressing table and turned to smile at Nellie. ‘Right, Nellie, shall we start on my hair now, then, if you’ll be so kind, you can help me into my gown.’
Nellie’s tense body relaxed. This was what she had come to Lockhart Estate for. Now she was in her element, doing what she knew she was good at. She brushed out Miss Lockhart’s long hair and observed her face structure and appearance in the gilt-edged mirror to decide which style would best suit her.
‘Now we’re alone,’ Miss Lockhart said, her voice lowered as if they weren’t alone and she
