A Mouse
for
the Duke
By: Lynn Landes
Written By:
Lynn Landes
Published by:
Landes Publishing
Cover art by:
Cora Graphics
www.coragraphics.it
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, and events portrayed in this novel are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Lynn Landes
http://[email protected]/
All rights reserved.
Other titles by Lynn Landes:
Mercy's Promise
Savannah's Promise
A Question of Faith
Delta's Dawn
Dust & Dreams
Stolen Dream's
Treasured Dreams
Perilous Dreams
A Promise for Christmas
Chapter 1
“Tighter!”
“Yes, my Lady,” the maid replies and pulls the stays on the corset tighter. The small smile of satisfaction at Reagan Hubbard’s grunt is quickly covered by a blank expression. She knows better than to be caught.
“Oh,” Reagan gasps and takes short, quick breaths. She stands up slowly with a frown of anger and turns on the maid. “My dress, quickly!” she hisses sharply.
“Yes, my Lady,” London, the maid hurries away to pull the violet tea gown from the bed.
“Yes, my Lady,” Reagan’s Stepmother mocks as she steps into the. “What a little mouse you are,” Lady Tessa laughs a shrill laugh. She requires that all the staff address her as Lady and her husband as Lord, even though they have no rights to the titles.
Reagan giggles at the insult only to turn on her when she pulls the corset stays tighter yet again. Narrowed eyes glare at the maid, trailing over her simple form. The scrutiny causes the maids hands to start trembling. Her light brown hair is pulled tightly back into a bun, and large metal rimmed spectacles rest on a small nose as she looks towards the floor.
“Dress her!” Lady Tessa Hubbard demands. She hurries to the door to let in a second maid to assist. “Excellent. Some skilled help has arrived,” Lady Hubbard sneers. Reagan steps into the violet tea gown, with the help of both maids to pull the rich material onto her small frame.
London Mitchell has worked for the Hubbard family as a lady’s maid to Reagan longer than any other. It is her job to personally attend to all of Reagan’s needs.
“Tell me, Mouse, do I need to choose another maid to attend my step-daughter?” Lady Hubbard grumbles.
“No, Ma'am. I'm sorry if I've displeased you,” London murmurs and stares at her worn shoes. It is the same every time Tessa is in a mood. The threats and abuse have become expected behavior.
“You will address me as Lady Hubbard. Tell me what your duties are, Mouse!” Tessa snaps, stomping over to stand in front of her while Reagan watches.
“My duties are to see to Lady Reagan’s every need.” London is trembling with repressed anger, which Tessa takes as fear. She needs this job. Her father drank and gambled away his life savings after her mother died. This job was the only thing that kept her from the workhouses or worse.
Seeing the fear appeases, Tessa. “Exactly.” Whirling around on the second maid who is straightening the bustle on Reagan’s dress. “Perhaps you’ve gained weight, daughter,” Tessa snorts and screeches at the second maid. “Leave us!”
London sighs internally and waits for the door to close behind the older woman. She meant the words she spoke. It is her job to attend to every need Lady Reagan has, from her mistress's hair, to makeup, dressing, clothing, jewelry, and shoes. London is also responsible for upkeep of all of her clothing, including sewing, mending, and altering garments as required.
Lady Hubbard also demands she keep up the general household duties, which include keeping Reagan’s room clean, freshening of bed linens, dusting, and cleaning her personal water closet. Seventeen-year-old Reagan was renowned for being difficult and had a reputation of going through maids. When the opportunity arose, London jumped at the chance to work for her, despite the rumors. The truth was worse than anyone had told her. It was the Stepmother, Tessa Hubbard, who was the real tyrant.
London stayed because the pay was exceptional. Her best friend Dillon warned her and insisted that the comelier her appearance, the better her chance at getting the job. London took the advice to heart and bought huge spectacles. She also padded her dress to make herself appear larger and hid her beauty by pulling her wavy blonde hair straight back into a tight bun while wearing a light brown wig. Fear of being discovered kept her true demeanor from showing. She also slumped her back and shoulders, which made her and Reagan the same height.
Lady Hubbard took one look at her and hired her on the spot to attend Reagan. For four years, she has worked hard.
“How do I look, Mouse?” Reagan interrupts London's musing.
“Enchanting,” London replies. “Your hair is the color of midnight, my Lady, and the dress is exquisite.” Reagan appears taller than her with a lean figure and graceful, long neck and hooked nose. Her eyes are dark brown, and her skin is perfectly unmarred.
In a moment unlike her, Lady Reagan reaches out and touches her shoulder gently. “Thank you. It’s a pity I have to go through all of this for him,” she sniffs back a tear and paces to the window.
“Grow up, Reagan. Do you think I wanted to marry a man almost twice my age?” Lady Hubbard grumbles. “It is your duty to make a good match, and your father has gone out of his way to make sure you are well cared for.”
“I understand, but Edmund…”
“Edmund Rothschild has nothing to offer you. His family owns a tobacco farm for goodness sake. You will go to tea with Declan Sheridan. He’s a Duke, Reagan! With any luck,
