Page 4 of My Devoted Viscount (Brazen Bluestockings #2)

The job here would allow Sophia to catch her breath, so to speak.

Mrs. Digby offered room and board and a modest salary.

While Sophia of course would continue to read the newspaper advertisements, searching for permanent employment, she determined to save every penny of that salary and do whatever it took to stay here until the memoir was completed. Ghosts or no ghosts.

Though she’d never encountered a spirit herself, she’d heard enough stories about old houses to not dismiss outright the idea of Hobart Grange being haunted.

Once she had washed off some of the travel grime, Sophia grabbed her bonnet and pelisse and enlisted Marshall’s aid to get outdoors for her walk. It required far more turns than she expected to descend two flights of stairs, reach the back of the house, and exit to the garden.

A few minutes of walking in the garden soothed her jangled nerves.

The grounds close to the house were delightful, with hedges sheltering flower beds around a bench and bubbling fountain, a box hedge maze that she determined to explore some other time, and an open area closer to the bluff where the sea breeze cleared the cobwebs from her mind and pressed her dress against her legs.

When she had more time and daylight, she would explore the clearly marked path leading down to the beach.

The pounding of the surf lulled her, the rhythmic crashing of the waves getting louder by the minute as the tide rolled in.

She could stand and watch the waves for hours, buffeted by the breeze that had traveled from distant parts of the globe.

Only the fading daylight and her growling stomach sent her back indoors.

Soon after Sophia returned to her room, Enid scratched on the door before entering, bearing a tray laden with soup, bread, and cheese, and more of the biscuits that had been on the tea tray earlier. A delicious aroma escaped from under a large covered plate.

“That will be all, thank you.”

Enid barely dipped a curtsy before she left.

Determined not to let the haughty maid ruin her mood, Sophia moved the tray to the writing desk so she could watch the white-capped waves as the sun sank below the horizon while she ate.

Just as she was about to get ready for bed, there was another scratch at the door. “Enter,” she called.

Ruby poked her head around the door. “If it’s not too impertinent, Miss, ah…”

Sophia dropped her hands from the buttons at her neckline. “Yes?”

Ruby stepped in and quietly closed the door behind her. “Seeing as how you didn’t travel with a maid, I was wondering if you would allow me to help you.”

“Did Mrs. Digby ask you?”

Ruby stared down where she dug her toe into the carpet.

“I’ve only been working as a housemaid for a few months.

Before that I worked in the dairy. But I really, really want to go to London and be a lady’s maid, to see some of the world beyond this little village.

I was wondering if … since you don’t have a maid … if you would let me practice on you.”

Ruby seemed to take Sophia’s surprised silence for refusal.

“I already know all kinds of recipes that can help a lady.” She took a few steps closer, holding out her hands, one palm up, the other palm down.

“If I can keep my hands this soft while working, imagine what my creams can do for a real lady.”

At the academy, the teachers and staff made their gowns so they could dress and undress by themselves, and helped each other do their hair only on special occasions. Madame Zavrina had been a firm believer in being well presented and not putting on airs.

Oh, to have the luxury of a lady’s maid! Even an untrained one. Ruby looked to be the same age as many of the students at the academy. “If it does not get you in trouble with the housekeeper or anyone else, that would be agreeable.”

“Mrs. Nelson is me mum’s cousin. She thinks I’m daft for wanting to leave Sidmouth and go to the city, but she said it was fine with her as long as it’s all right with you and I still get my regular work done.”

“Very well. Perhaps you could help me with my hair in the morning before I go downstairs.”

A broad smile broke across Ruby’s face. “Thank you, Miss. You won’t regret it!”

After the maid left, Sophia washed, changed into her flannel night rail, and brushed out her braids. Letting the thick, dark brown strands slide through her fingers, she wondered what kind of styles Ruby might be capable of creating with hair that resisted Sophia’s best efforts to pin it up.

After she plaited it into one long braid, she examined her room more closely.

One of the tall twin candlesticks on the mantel would do just fine.

After locking the door, out of long-ingrained habit she propped the chair from the dressing table under the doorknob so the door could not be opened even with a key, slid the heavy brass candlestick under her pillow, and climbed into bed.

If the weather was warmer, she would open the window a bit so she could hear the waves better.

But the tide had not turned to go out yet, and given how tired she was from her journey from Tiverton, the sound of the surf crashing high on the beach was loud enough in the quiet room to lull her into a deep sleep.

* * *

Ruby arrived in the morning just after Sophia had dressed and tied her garters. She attempted to put Sophia’s hair into an upswept style, elegant yet simple enough to be appropriate for daytime wear. But every time Sophia moved her head, some of her hair would slip out of the pins and fall down.

“I’m ever so sorry, Miss,” Ruby said, twisting a corner of her apron as she stared at the disaster of Sophia’s hair.

“We’re learning together,” Sophia said when it looked like Ruby might cry in frustration. “Let’s try something that I know works.” She guided Ruby into creating one of her regular styles, a braided coronet, and pinned a lace cap on top.

“But that’s how you was wearing it yesterday.”

“Tomorrow we can try a different style.” The clock on the mantel began to chime the hour. “For now, I need to hurry downstairs or I’ll be late.”

Sophie was delighted to discover Mrs. Digby believed in breaking her fast with a full meal.

The grande dame sat at the head of a dining table that could easily accommodate a dozen diners.

Yet the room felt cozy, with cream and green striped wallpaper and several strategically placed potted plants and vases of flowers.

As in the entry and hall, paintings of landscapes adorned the walls, showing mountains, jungles, and deserts, as well as seascapes.

“Always had to send Digby off with a full belly,” Mrs. Digby said, accepting a plate from the butler filled with scrambled eggs, bacon, kidney pie, and ham.

“Thank you, Sergeant.” She cut into the rasher of bacon and took a bite.

“If I was going to cook a meal for him, why would I restrict myself to just toast and a cup of chocolate?” She spread marmalade on a slice of toast.

“What is your preference this morning, Miss Walden?” The butler gestured at the dishes on the sideboard.

“Sergeant?” Sophia momentarily ignored the sumptuous display of food to eye the butler more closely. She hadn’t considered until now how much the rigid posture and impassive face of a butler and soldier had in common.

“Yes, Miss?”

“Sergeant Kendall was Digby’s batman,” Mrs. Digby said. “I don’t know what I would have done after Digby’s funeral had Kendall not insisted on looking after me.”

“It has been my honor, ma’am,” Kendall quietly intoned.

Sophia took another glance between Mrs. Digby’s plate and what was on the buffet. “I’ll have the same, thank you.” She didn’t trust herself to load her plate, as there was more food on the sideboard than she’d seen at one time since leaving the Academy.

As soon as Sophia was seated, the butler served her toast and chocolate, and a bit of everything else Mrs. Digby was eating. It tasted so good, she barely kept from moaning.

“A full meal, that is, only when we had enough food. Rations were often scarce.” Mrs. Digby dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.

“The troops would be so much better off if women were in charge of victualling the troops. I can’t tell you how unreliable the chain of command was in fulfilling requisitions if the requested items didn’t go ‘boom.”

When they finished eating, they went directly to the library, Mrs. Digby keeping her refilled cup of tea. She took a chair by the window so she had plenty of light for reading her first journal, written decades ago. Her little white terrier jumped up beside her and rested his head on her lap.

After a furtive glance at the chairs by the fireplace, both empty, Sophia settled at the desk. She slipped her spectacles out of her skirt pocket and put them on, got out paper, used a penknife to sharpen a pencil, and prepared to write down everything Mrs. Digby read to her.

“Soon after our wedding in the spring of 1768, the Army transferred Digby’s regiment to Boston in the American colonies…”