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CHAPTER FOUR

MAX COULD NOT believe he was actually going to scrub a floor this morning.

Not only was he going to scrub it, but he was looking forward to the task because Harriet was going to work beside him and that sunburst smile of hers was simply dazzling. “Are you really going to go through with this bet?” she asked him.

He nodded. “I honor my wagers.”

Several maids and footmen on his staff followed behind them carrying buckets of water, mops and brooms, feather dusters, two ladders, cloths, rags, and polishes.

One would think they were going on a picnic, for he had never seen a cheerier group of laborers.

Of course, they were all having quite the laugh at his expense.

The mighty duke, having lost his wager, was about to get on bended knees before one Miss Harriet Comeford.

He hadn’t wanted Harriet to carry anything herself, but she had insisted on being given something. So he had handed her an apron for herself while he tucked some padded mats under his arm that his housekeeper insisted he take along to place under his and Harriet’s knees while they were on the floor scrubbing.

“Ready?” he asked Harriet as he shoved open the squeaky door that would need greasing, but he would leave that chore for later.

She looked up at him with a gleam in her eyes. “Yes, I cannot wait to start scrubbing. What jolly fun we shall have.”

He shook his head and laughed lightly. “You are an odd, little thing.”

But he surely liked George’s sister and her winning smile.

The chapel was musty and Max coughed upon taking a step inside.

Bits of dust floated in the air now that the door was open, but he made certain the door remained propped open wide to allow in a desperately needed breeze.

“Where shall we start, Miss Comeford?” He would have preferred to call her Harry and tweak her chin, but they had to maintain formality while in the company of others. Not that scrubbing floors was in any way formal. “Will we all be able to work in this confined space?”

“Oh, yes. Would you mind if I assigned the duties?” She donned her apron and withdrew a hideous mobcap that was hidden in the apron pocket. She must have borrowed the cap from one of the scullery maids.

Gad, it was…well, she looked all big-eyed and adorable with it practically swallowing her head. “Go right ahead, Miss Comeford. Consider yourself in charge of this project.”

“Oh.” She blushed, obviously not expecting his complete subservience.

She rubbed her hands along the fabric of her gown, the same russet one she had worn yesterday. Not that he had an issue with her choice of attire, since she could not wear any of the finer gowns his grandmother had given her. “I was thinking to partition the work, assigning a footman and two maids to each sector.”

He nodded. “Go right ahead.”

She wasted no time in issuing instructions, sending one team to clean the area of the altar, another to the pews, and teams three and four to the ceiling and walls.

“What about us?” Max asked, confused because she now led him outside. “Aren’t we going to scrub floors?”

“We are, but your staff needs to get to the dirt built up on the altar, benches, walls and ceiling crevices first. Quite a bit has piled up over the years of neglect. They’ll sweep as much of it off the floors as possible, and then will we start scrubbing. It won’t take them long. I expect they’ll finish within the next twenty minutes. The chapel is small and there are many hands at the task.”

“So we have nothing to do yet but relax?”

She nodded.

“Come with me.” He led her to a pond not far from the chapel and took off his jacket to place on a large rock by the shore. “Here, have a seat.”

“You do realize your jacket is much finer than my poor specimen of a gown.”

He grinned. “I was thinking more of providing comfort for your delicate derriere.”

She laughed. “Ah, all right. If that is the reason for your chivalry. My derriere thanks you.”

He remained standing by her side, skipping stones across the tranquil waters as they spoke. Harriet was the first to make conversation. “How was your evening? I heard music, so I suppose there was dancing.”

“Yes, it went on quite late into the night. The Upper Crust is used to these late hours. I hope we did not disturb you too badly.”

“Not at all. The music was lovely. I wish I knew some of these dances. Unfortunately, I am only familiar with country reels and none of the more elegant dances.”

He turned to face her. “Then you do not waltz?”

“No, I never have done,” she said, her eyes taking on a dreamy aspect that he found beguiling.

He turned away and concentrated on skimming stones along the water instead of concentrating on her.

The rock upon which she was sitting was more of an outcropping than a single rock, several smaller rocks forming stepping stones that reached into the water. The pond itself was surrounded by grass and bordered by reeds and lilies that grew naturally wild around its circumference.

Harriet reminded him of one of those wild lilies because she was as beautiful and natural as these flowers. “I could teach you some of those dances, Harry.”

She cast him one of her sunburst smiles but shook her head. “It isn’t necessary. I am never going to dance in an elegant ballroom.”

He was about to argue the point when one of his footmen approached to advise they had finished their assigned cleaning.

Max reached for Harriet’s hand to assist her off the rock. “Our turn. Ready?”

“Looking forward to it,” she said with a lilt of laughter.

He caught the footman’s grin and knew his entire staff was looking forward to the spectacle of him on his knees with scrub brush in hand.

And then he was on his knees, his staff cheering and clapping as he raced Harriet from the altar to the doorway, each taking a side of the chapel while scrubbing their way toward the door.

Harriet handily won because she had done household labor before, no doubt in the convent school.

Max knew how these religious orders kept strict discipline and everyone had to chip in with chores.

He watched her as she set a rhythm to her brush strokes that were as smooth as a swimmer’s strokes. She also knew precisely how much water to spill onto the floor as she scrubbed her way down.

He was making a mess of it, not only finishing last but his trousers were soaked and he’d scraped his knees because he was too impatient to properly set out the mat that was meant to soften the impact of the hard stone floor.

It was worth all his discomfort to see the glow in Harriet’s eyes as she inspected the miraculous end result.

The chapel was spotlessly clean and gleaming as the sun shone through the stained glass windows.

It actually looked like a heavenly place of worship.

“Excellent job, Your Grace,” she said with a satisfied smile.

He never felt prouder.

Was this not ridiculous?

“I’ll join you here for prayers tomorrow morning,” he told Harriet.

Her eyes widened. “You will? Seriously?”

“Yes, why not?” Although…

Dear heaven.

Whatever possessed him to say such a thing? He was not a particularly pious man.

She shook her head and then shrugged her shoulders. “You surprise me, Your Grace.”

He surprised himself, too.

But there was something about being around Harriet that he found uplifting.

She must have sensed his thoughts, especially his reluctance to attend to his guests. As they walked back to the manor house with an entire troupe of household staff armed with buckets, mops, ladders, and cloths, Harriet drew up beside him. “Those young ladies ought to be awake by now. I think it is time you left us and attended to them.”

He nodded, albeit reluctantly.

He wanted to spend the day with Harriet.

“Right, but I had better wash up first. I must smell like a bucket of dirty water.”

Or maybe he would simply take a seat at the breakfast table and see how the ladies responded to his pungent scent.

Harriet eyed him warily. “Don’t you dare.”

He laughed. “What should I not dare?”

“You cannot join your guests the way you are. I caught that wicked gleam in your eye. You want to test those ladies, don’t you?”

Gad, was he that obvious?

He usually knew how to hide his thoughts well. “Why shouldn’t I?”

She frowned at him. “Because it is not fair to them. No woman, no matter how much she loves you, is going to want to get near you when you smell of sweat, wood mold, and dirty water.”

He held her back a moment as the rest of his staff entered the house through the kitchen door. “Harry, I think you are wrong about this.”

She blinked against the sunlight filtering in through the nearby trees. “What do you mean?”

“I think love…true love…does not notice scents or faults. Would you refuse to hug me if I walked in like this and strode forward to embrace you? Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

She glanced down at herself. “I would not refuse you, speaking in the hypothetical, of course. I would not refuse you because I smell just as horrid as you do. But if I had on a fine gown and had just bathed in fragrant oils? I would shriek to keep you at arm’s distance, and hit you over the head if you continued to approach me. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get sweat stains out of silk?”

She tsked and continued to explain about how easily silk was damaged as he walked her up the back stairs to her bedchamber. “But you would not think of anything so practical as that, would you?”

“Must you always be practical, Harriet?”

He led her into her chamber through the servants door since he did not want her to be seen with him in the hallway.

Harriet was still wearing her apron and that hideous mobcap which, he had to admit, made her eyes look even bigger and more beautiful than they already were.

Fortunately, there were no maids awaiting her in her bedchamber.

He lingered with her a moment and took her hand. But he paused as he was about to raise it to his lips. “Ah, this won’t do. Your hands have been steeped in dirty water, just like mine.”

“See, not even you would want to get close to a woman who smelled like a dirty rag.”

“You have made your point, Harriet. Those young ladies ought to thank you for the able way you defended their cause.” He leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

He turned and hurried out the hidden door, using the back hall to get to his own bedchamber.

His valet was waiting for him and had thoughtfully ordered a bath brought up. The water was still hot, Max realized. “Miss Comeford will require one of these, as well,” he said, tossing off his clothes and dropping them on the floor since they were too soiled to drape across a chair. “Holt, go find Mrs. Watkins and have her bring a tub up to her room.”

“Very good, Your Grace.”

“And get me a salve for my knees. I scraped the blazes out of them while cleaning out that chapel.”

“But I thought Mrs. Watkins had given you mats just for this thing.”

Max cast him a wry grin. “She did. However, I did not have time to properly set my knees on them since Miss Comeford was handily beating me as she scrubbed her way down the row of pews, and I was bloody not about to let her win.”

“So you won?”

“No,” he said with a chuckle. “She beat me soundly.”

He heard Holt’s chuckle as he walked out the door.

Max smiled as he eased into the tub and scrubbed himself clean with a sandalwood soap that would meet with Harriet’s approval.

He had just stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around himself when Holt strolled back in. “The tub for Miss Comeford is being brought up as we speak, Your Grace.”

He nodded in approval.

A warm feeling came over him, although he did not understand why he felt such satisfaction in the need to pamper Harriet. There was just something about her, a genuine sweetness and enthusiasm for all things even though her life had not been easy.

He quickly dressed and wanted to look in on her before heading downstairs to join his guests, but how could he when she would be in the bath by now?

Bollocks.

He was going to break into a sweat again if he thought of her shedding her clothes and easing that delectable body of hers into the water.

He hurried downstairs before he cast caution to the wind and did something utterly stupid.

The hour was still early, not yet eleven o’clock in the morning, and only a few guests were in the dining room. Fortunately, the two young ladies who had passed the orange peel test were seated at the table and chatting with the others.

They both looked up and smiled as he strode in.

Lady Annalise was a pretty brunette with striking green eyes, and Lady Beatrice had hair as dark as a raven’s wing and crystal blue eyes. He should have felt some attraction toward them, should he not? But there was a brightness lacking in their expressions, a casual boredom in everything they said and did that dampened their sparkle.

Being pampered all one’s life was not a blessing, he decided. One ought to face challenges in order to appreciate the bounties received.

These young ladies showed little regard for all they had been given.

It truly dulled them.

Lady Annalise motioned to the empty chair beside hers. “Do join me, Your Grace.”

Well, why not?

Harriet would berate him if he passed up the opportunity.

Not to mention his grandmother was seated at the table and would harangue him endlessly if he ignored the young lady’s request.

He drew out the chair and settled beside Lady Annalise, ordering a footman to pour him a cup of coffee as he did so.

After taking a sip of the hot liquid that felt divine sliding down his throat, he sought to converse with the ton diamond whose hair was done to perfection. Her gown was designed just for this sort of summer morning at a country house party and had just the right amount of frills and lace.

“Have you done anything of interest today, Lady Annalise?” he asked, hoping to get to know her better.

He was cursed with a five minute list of the things that went wrong for her this morning, all completely trivial and insanely dull.

Her gown took forever to be properly pressed.

“Terribly sorry.” Max had no doubt all the women at his party had gowns that needed pressing and their maids all had to wait their turn.

Lady Annalise, daughter of a wealthy marquess, was not used to waiting in line for anything.

“Then I lost an earring,” she griped.

“A tragedy,” he intoned.

“Indeed, it was.” She then proceeded to explain in excruciating detail how her maid had spent over an hour searching for it until it was finally found snagged on the light wrap she had worn last night.

She then blamed her maid for not noticing the loss sooner.

“Why blame her?” Max asked. “Wouldn’t you have realized it when you took the earrings off?”

“It is her responsibility to take inventory of my valuables.”

“Which I assume she did this morning when she came to attend you,” Max said, irritated that Annalise was taking no responsibility whatsoever for her own actions.

Not that he blamed either of them for what was a mere accident.

Were they not both tired from their long day?

“Did you have your maid wait up for you last night? We played cards and danced until almost dawn.”

Annalise cast him a practiced pout. “She had several hours to sleep in the big chair in my bedchamber while waiting for me to retire. She always waits up for me. This is part of her duties. It isn’t as though she has all that much to do,” Lady Annalise grumbled. “I am the one who exhausted myself.”

“Yes, with all the dining and dancing and cards playing,” Max muttered.

“While she slept,” Annalise pointed out with a nod for emphasis. “She ought to have noticed the earring was missing then. But the silly cow brought the outfit I wore last night downstairs for airing and pressing this morning, and then she had to hurry back downstairs to hunt for the earring.”

“Well, she found it. No harm done.”

“I would have her discharged without references if she hadn’t. Good help is so hard to find these days. That’s what Mama always says.”

Max did not like what he was hearing. “Has your maid made mistakes before?”

“Well, no. But this was a significant error, don’t you think? Those pearl earrings are my favorite.”

“Then aren’t you the one who ought to have used more caution?”

Annalise pinched her lips. “No. Must I do everything for myself?”

Max changed the topic of conversation before he said something even ruder. As far as he could tell, Lady Annalise did nothing for herself. And while he was not completely exonerating the maid who might have been more careful were it not the middle of the night and she was probably exhausted, it was an innocent mistake that had been corrected.

When Annalise turned to speak to her father, Max took his chance to move away and sit beside Lady Beatrice who seemed quite content to slowly sip her tea. He asked the same question about her day so far this morning and braced himself for the idle prattle he expected would spout from her lips.

However, Beatrice surprised him by giving a sensible answer.

“I slept later than usual and only came downstairs about an hour ago. Since hardly anyone else was in the dining room, I decided to stroll along your portrait gallery. I hope you do not mind.”

“Not at all. It is open for all who are interested.”

She smiled. “To my surprise, the gallery was as busy as Regent Street at the height of shopping hour.”

Max chuckled, for he was not surprised his guests would avidly peruse those portraits of his ancestors.

“Lady Marianna and her mother were there. So were a few of the other ladies. They all declared you the handsomest of the Pendrake dukes.”

“Did you, as well?”

She arched a delicate eyebrow. “No, because I could not get a word in edgewise. Lady Rose and Lady Philomena were quite enraptured and went on and on about your virtues for a full ten minutes.”

“I do not think I am quite that fascinating.”

Beatrice took another sip of her tea and then calmly set the cup down on the table. “It is your title and wealth in addition to your obvious good looks that dazzles them.”

“And you, Lady Beatrice. What do you think of me?”

“I think you are probably England’s prize catch. Do you mind that I speak so bluntly?”

“Not at all. Your candor is refreshing.”

“Well, it is best to be honest if one hopes for a successful marriage. This is what I believe, although I am not certain my family feels the same.”

“Rest assured, I always prefer honesty.”

She smiled. “So do I.”

Max decided to spend more time engaging with her over the course of the next few days. The house party was almost over and they had little time left to get acquainted because he had dawdled too long.

Beatrice seemed promising, although his heart did not lighten the way it did whenever he looked upon Harriet.

Perhaps it was in the smile.

Harriet’s was bright and openhearted.

She smiled with her eyes and her beautiful lips, and he felt all of her heart going into that expression of happiness.

Beatrice held back.

No dazzle in her eyes.

No wide arc of her lips.

He thought her reticence was a shame, for she was in contention as a wife prospect. Having passed the orange peel test and now the breakfast conversation test put her in the lead as of now.

However, she did not appear to be particularly enamored of him.

Was it merely shyness on her part?

There was no fault in being cautious in one’s friendships.

In fact, he considered it prudent to tread carefully.

He thought it showed common sense on her part.

Yet, she appeared undecided about liking him. How difficult a decision was it to make? Perhaps he was making too much of her reluctance.

All the others were throwing themselves at him, and he did not like that at all.

But he couldn’t have it both ways.

It was not fair of him to dismiss the debutantes who overtly sought to gain his favor while also being irritated with the ones who held back.

Lady Beatrice was the only one who held back, and could not Harriet help him with her situation?

Would Harriet be indignant if he asked her to strike up a conversation with Lady Beatrice? Harmless, really.

All she had to do was find out what Lady Beatrice really thought of him.

It would not be considered spying, would it?