Page 17 of His Arranged Duchess (Regency Wedding Crashers #5)

S he hadn’t expected him to say yes.

Of course, that was her own fault. Frances was rapidly learning that the Duke of Blackstone was not a particularly predictable man, and any sort of assurance that he would do one thing was likely a guarantee that he would do the opposite.

And now I must sit in a small room with him at my side, and interview women to work in a house larger than any I’ve ever seen before. Wonderful.

Mrs. Gray would have handled the interviews if Frances had wanted her to. But that seemed rather cowardly, did it not? She was the duchess, and she ought to take charge.

Mrs. Gray had, however, helpfully compiled a list of questions for Frances to ask.

There’s no need to be nervous, she told herself repeatedly. None at all.

The interviews were to take place in a small, seldom-used parlour near the front of the house. The candidates waited nervously in the hall outside.

“Isn’t this a little grand to interview housemaids?” Lucien commented, sitting on a low sofa by the window. Frances took a straight-backed chair by a little round table, opposite an empty chair where the candidate would sit.

“What’s grand about it?” Frances shot back. “We want them to be comfortable, after all.”

Lucien chuckled, stretching out his long legs. “And you think that prospective housemaids will be more comfortable here, rather than down in the kitchen?”

This was an excellent point, but before Frances could comment, the door opened and a young woman shuffled in, beaming nervously.

She was around twenty-five years old, with a round and placid face.

She wore a plain blue dress, her mousy hair pinned up under a demure straw bonnet.

She was a little on the plump side and appeared to be trying to suck in her stomach.

She sat down on the chair opposite Frances with a thump, then promptly grimaced.

“Oh, heavens. I should have waited to be asked to sit, shouldn’t I?”

Frances, who would almost certainly have forgotten to bid the poor woman sit, gave a nervous smile in return.

“Nonsense, I would rather you make yourself comfortable. Tell me, what is your name?”

“Hannah Tremblay, Miss. Oh, I suppose it isn’t Miss , is it?”

“It is Your Grace,” Lucien spoke up gently, and Hannah’s eyes widened.

“Oh, lawks! You’re her, aren’t you? You’re the duchess!”

“Indeed, she is,” Lucien said, sounding as if he were holding back laughter with difficulty. “And I am the Duke.”

Hannah appeared to be on the brink of fainting.

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter,” Frances said firmly. “I wanted to meet you in person.”

“I read all about you in the papers, Your Grace! If I may say so, you’re pretty as a picture. Prettier, even.”

Frances had to smile at the compliment. “Well, thank you. I am fairly ordinary-looking.”

“You are not, Your Grace! Begging your pardon, I’m unfortunately rather plain myself, so I know beauty when I see it. It’s made it difficult for me to get a position.”

Frances paused, frowning. “Why should your looks make any difference?”

Hannah gave her an almost pitying smile. “Folks want pretty housemaids, Your Grace. Housemaids are seen more often. I’d get a position as a kitchen maid or a scullery maid easily enough, but that’s the kind of work that strips you to the bone.”

“Well, we don’t have that kind of attitude here at Blackstone Abbey,” Frances answered firmly. “You’ll be judged on your performance and that alone, I can promise you that.”

Hannah gave a wry smile at that, as if she did not quite believe Frances but did not wish to be rude.

Frances turned her attention back down to the list of questions Mrs. Gray had given her.

“You ought to know that the work here will be rather hard,” she added, after a moment. “I daresay you’ve seen the state of the house. We’ve got a great many repairs to get done, as well as redecorating. All of that is very messy.”

Hannah nodded eagerly. “I’m a hard worker, Your Grace.

Truly, I am. You’ll see all my references there, from my previous employers.

Now, there’s a gap over the past five years, and a number of people have turned me away because of it.

The thing is, your Grace, my employer died quite sudden-like, and there was no time for her to give me a reference, and her son turned me out of the house to make room for his own servants.

I liked old Mrs. White the best, only she died, or else I should still have been with her.

She’d praise me to the skies, she would, and that’s not me bragging.

I can do all sorts, too. The usual cleaning and scrubbing and whatnot, but also a lot of special darning and sewing.

I can make lace, I can do hair and help you get dressed if necessary, and what I don’t know I’ll learn quickly.

I’m a loyal sort, and I’ll work hard and please you, just you wait and see. ”

Frances blinked, a little taken aback to be on the receiving end of such begging. Swallowing hard, she placed the papers aside, holding Hannah’s stare.

The woman met her eyes for a minute, then swallowed, glancing away.

“I was too much, wasn’t I?” she murmured.

“I ruined my last interview that way. And the one before that, I was too cheeky. I’ve got a habit of not holding my tongue, I’m afraid.

But I need this job, Your Graces. Truly, I do.

My parents are old, and…” she paused, cutting off the end of the sentence.

“Well, never mind that. I need work, that’s all I can say. ”

Frances wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. She glanced over her shoulder at Lucien. He raised his eyebrows and gave a faint smile, but made no effort to give her any advice or any hint in which direction she should go.

“I’m sorry to hear that things are hard for you, Hannah,” Frances said at last, offering what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “Your references are very good, and you seem a very kind and pleasant woman. For now, though, we’ll have to talk to the other candidates before we make a decision.”

Hannah’s face did not fall, but it did not change, either. She nodded slowly and rose tiredly from the seat.

“Thank you, Your Graces. Shall I see myself out?”

“Go down to the kitchen,” Frances said, somewhat impulsively.

She was a little amazed at herself, giving such clear and new instructions, but they seemed quite ordinary things to say.

“Find Mrs. Gray, the housekeeper. She’ll give you some tea and something to eat, and you’ll be informed within an hour or so if you’ve won the position. ”

Hannah did seem to brighten a little at this. “Thank you, Your Grace. God bless you.”

Before Frances had the opportunity to reflect on whether she really deserved this blessing, Hannah had bobbed a curtsey and scurried out. Clearing her throat, Frances glanced back at Lucien.

“That was awful. She was practically begging for a job.”

Lucien grimaced. “That’s only the half of it. Just wait until you meet some poor unfortunate with no reference who’s at the end of her tether.”

“Well, it isn’t fair. Everybody should have the opportunity to earn a living.”

He tilted his head, grinning. “Careful there, duchess. You are sounding like a revolutionary.”

Frances flushed, turning away. “Nonsense. Next!”

The next woman to enter was aged about nineteen or twenty. She was tall and slim, wearing a tightly-cut, grey dress, the neckline a little lower than was strictly proper. She was remarkably beautiful, with an oval doll’s face, large blue eyes, and flaxen ringlets slipping out from under her bonnet.

Frances smiled at her, but the girl’s gaze slid straight past her and landed on Lucien. Then she smiled, sinking down into a deep, elegant curtsey.

“Good day, Your Grace,” she said, her voice low and breathy. “It’s such an honour to be considered for such a prestigious post.”

Frances blinked. “It’s only a housemaid’s position.”

The woman glanced at her for the first time, face tightening a little. She glanced up and down Frances’s frame.

She’s trying to work out if I’m the housekeeper or not, Frances thought in a rush, a little horrified.

“ Head housemaid, I believe,” the woman responded sweetly. She folded her hands in front of her wasp-thin waist, waiting to be invited to sit.

Frances smiled, gesturing to the seat in front of her. The woman sat down, back straight, and her form elegant.

Perhaps she’s just nervous. I could hardly blame her for that, could I?

“What is your name, please?”

“Deborah Swinbank.”

Deborah carefully tossed a blonde curl over her shoulder, glancing briefly over at Lucien to see if he had noticed it.

Frances cleared her throat. “I might as well tell you that I am the Duchess of Blackstone, and this is the duke. It’s good to meet you, Deborah.”

“I’m not often interviewed by the lady of the house,” Deborah said, after a short, uncomfortable pause. “I’m a hard worker, and I believe I encompass the sort of style an elegant house requires.”

“Well, we don’t know what our style is yet,” Frances said, laughing. “We’re still finding our feet.”

Deborah gave a tiny moue , her displeasure visible.

She doesn’t like me, Frances thought, faintly bewildered. What have I done to offend her?

Her answer came more quickly than she had expected. Frances glanced down at the paper in front of her, feeling unconscionably nervous, and glanced up to find Deborah staring straight at Lucien.

He was not looking at her and was inspecting his nails instead.

Deborah’s eyes were narrowed, and she was drawing her lower lip between her teeth.

When Lucien eventually glanced up—as one would when one was being stared at so assiduously—Deborah did not look away.

Instead, she flashed a coy smile, lowering her eyes and glancing up at him through her lashes.

Lucien only stared back, bewildered and more than a little amused. He glanced over at Frances, and at long last Deborah realized that she was being watched, too. Immediately, color rushed into her face.

Frances was shocked, registering the strength of her own feelings.

How dare she? How dare this woman flirt with my husband right in front of my face? I daresay she’s done it before. She imagines that I’m a dull, insipid woman without the sense to see beyond my own nose. She thinks nothing of me, that is clear.

Frances recalled what Hannah had said—that she’d read about Frances in the papers.

No doubt, the papers had not been complimentary about Frances and her sudden rise to nobility.

Mostly, Frances had avoided such articles, but they were hard to ignore, especially when the rest of the world seemed to be reading them.

“You seem distracted, Deborah,” Frances heard herself say, voice tight. “I’m not sure whether your parents ever warned you of this, but it’s not wise to ogle a woman’s husband right in front of her.”

Deborah spluttered, and Lucien gave a snort of laughter which he rapidly tried to turn into a cough.

“I… I wasn’t, Your Grace,” Deborah stammered. “Look at my references. Go on, they’re all good.”

“All from the gentlemen of the house, I see.”

“That’s a coincidence!”

“That as it may be,” Frances rose to her feet, and Deborah stayed sitting for a moment, quite stupidly, until she realized the situation she was in and bounced to her feet.

“But let me be clear, Miss Swinbank. I know what it’s like to be ignored, to be passed over and disrespected.

I am determined not to allow myself to be treated in such a way again, and especially not by my own servants. ”

Deborah wilted a little. “I… I didn’t mean anything by it, Your Grace. The… The duke is a very handsome man. I was just looking .”

Frances sighed. “Then learn to be more subtle about your looking. The duke is a very handsome man, to be sure, but he is mine , my dear. You are not a good fit for our household, I think. Your references are good, and I’m fairly certain that you will find a suitable position sooner or later. Good day to you, Miss Swinbank.”

She held out Deborah’s references. The woman took them, red as a beet, and hurried out of the room without a word of goodbye or even an answering glance.

Frances sat back in her chair, letting out a long huff.

“Well,” she said at last, her voice a little shaky. “That was even more awful.”

Lucien made a strange, strangled noise, and Frances twisted around, amazed, and found that he was laughing .

“You’re laughing! What is funny about this?”

“What isn’t funny about it?” Lucien spluttered. “I thought you were going to bite her head off.”

“And why should I not? She was flirting with you!”

“She said that I was a remarkably handsome man,” Lucien said, grinning wider. He leaned back in his seat, lacing his hands behind his head. “A man likes to feel complimented now and then. You do not give me any compliments on my looks.”

Frances felt herself blushing, much to her horror. Clearing her throat, she turned aside, leafing through the papers of references.

“Yes, well, you don’t need to think more highly of yourself than you already do.”

“I did not flirt back, you will notice.”

“Barely,” she retorted.

He chuckled, crossing one leg over the other.

“I do not flirt with servants. My affairs are my own, but I can assure you that they are exclusively conducted with my social equals. I am not the sort of man to seduce a servant. Such a thing cannot be done, in my opinion. There’s too much inequality.

So, I can assure you, my dear, that I won’t be troublesome with the servants. ”

Frances eyed him for a moment, not sure whether he was joking or not. She decided that he was not.

“I liked Hannah,” she said at last.

“Yes, the plain girl who chattered constantly. I think she’d be a pleasant addition to our little family.

And now,” he rose abruptly to his feet, tugging at his waistcoat to straighten it, “I suggest you instruct Mrs. Gray to impart the happy news to our new head housemaid. I have interviewed enough young hopefuls and so have you.”

“Well, there’s the whole day ahead of us yet. I planned to make myself useful. Aunt Emily is doing the flowers, and…”

“Your dear Aunt Emily will excuse you for an hour or two,” Lucien interrupted, giving her a wry smile. “Because I have a plan for us.”

Frances stared up at him, trying to swallow down the rush of anticipation and desire. What was it about this man that he could summon up such feelings? She was entirely helpless in their wake. Did he know of the effect he was having on her? She hoped not.

“And what plan is this?”

Lucien breathed out, glancing through the window. “It’s a fine day. An azure blue sky, as an author might describe it. Birds are singing, a warm breeze is blowing, and golden sunlight beams down from above. I suggest, my dear duchess, that you and I go for a promenade. What do you say?”

Frances answered before she even had time to think over her answer.

“I say yes,” she said at once.

He smiled.