Page 64 of The Ladies Least Likely

“My brother does not seem to have been much help,” Amaranthe added.

“But you can set everything right, can’t you?” Ned said. “I mean, that was a smashing good tea.”

“I don’t see how I might remedy your situation,” Amaranthe said. “Besides being an utter stranger to you, and having no right to interfere.”

“But you’re a woman,” the young duke said. When Amaranthe bent an inquiring gaze on him, he clarified. “You…know how to order such things.”

Amaranthe failed to hold back a snort. She was barely domesticated, as such things went.

Grey, the dandy who had shattered her peace, must detect that she wore a faded day dress, a tired sack back with a floral print that disguised the occasional spill or ink stain.

She never wore a cap indoors, and the efficient chignon in which she dressed her hair had no doubt grown untidy over the course of the day.

“Mr. Grey is your guardian.” Amaranthe wasn’t about to get her nose bitten off again for sticking it into places that weren’t her business.

“Hopeful guardian, if the court rules in my favor,” Grey responded. “Popplewell and the duchess have just given the court every reason to support my claim over theirs. But I know nothing about arranging a household.”

“Nor does he have a cook,” Ned clarified.

Amaranthe rose. “Very well. Let me confer with my staff.” She hesitated, torn between protecting her work and protecting her secret. “I pray you will not lean upon that easel, as the ink is drying,” she said to Grey.

He rose when she did and stepped away, but regarded the fabric-wrapped easel with great curiosity. “Of course. Ralph, bring the vehicle around. Miss Illingworth, we’ll await your pleasure.”

Amaranthe slipped belowstairs. Any thought of trying to weasel out of this new demand vanished when she found her staff hard at work.

In the kitchen Eyde piled baskets with food at Mrs. Blackthorn’s direction, while Derwa whisked back and forth from the tiny room that served as their stillroom and scullery.

“And mind you line the eggs well, Eyde, so they don’t break.” Mrs. Blackthorn liberated a ham from a hook in the ceiling and deftly encased it in oiled paper. “Derwa, darling, fetch me a handful of onions from the cellar, along with a bundle of sage.”

“I had thought we might take the children home tonight and hire a housekeeper tomorrow,” Amaranthe said. “Are we to send them all our food?”

She watched in dismay as Mrs. Blackthorn wrapped up the oysters Amaranthe had bought at the fish market as a rare and special treat. She could afford oysters but rarely and had bought them while shopping for gold leaf to celebrate nearly being done with her commission.

“I can scrape up a decent supper and send someone to market tomorrow.” Mrs. Blackthorn handed the ham to Eyde.

“Now, Eyde can come to do for the children tonight, and Derwa to help me in the kitchen? Davey stepped out to borrow a cart from the pub, so you’ve a moment to change your gown, Miss Amaranthe. ”

“They must take me as I am if we’re to descend on the duke’s household,” Amaranthe said testily. “We’ll leave some bread and cheese to let Joseph shift for himself? I suppose he’s done it before.”

“I think I have someone to look after Mr. Joseph.” Eyde stuck her head out the door that opened on the narrow alley running behind the neighboring buildings. “Hullo, then! You’d best come in and make your case afore the mistress leaves.”

A young woman with long, curly black hair, wide-set dark eyes, and dusky skin stepped inside. She wrung hands chapped raw from laundry soap and lye in an apron that had seen far better days. “ óla, senhorita ,” she said.

“Hello, Inez,” Amaranthe said gently. “Bad times again?”

“I’m not asking alms,” Inez said swiftly, her brave tone belied by the sheen of tears in her dark brown eyes. “Looking for work, if ye have it . The house I was at let me go when they found out my father was a lascar , and if no one else’ll take me, the only way I can eat is if—well, you know.”

Her face hardened, and she cast her eyes down.

Inez wasn’t eligible for the parish workhouse because she had been born in Portugal, a stopping-over on one of her father’s sea routes.

And she wasn’t able to enter the Magdalen House unless she had already resorted, as so many struggling young women did, to earning coin through the sale of her company.

Desperate to avoid prostitution, Inez was forced to beg for scraps each time an employer turned her off because she was too dark, too foreign, or too distracting to the surrounding young men. Eyde had brought her to the house before, confident that Amaranthe would help.

“I am glad you came to us,” Amaranthe assured her.

“You’re the answer to a prayer, really. We need someone to look after the house and see to Mr. Illingworth when he returns home.

He’ll only need a cold tray and a candle, and wake him at daybreak tomorrow so he can report to Hunsdon House and give us an account of himself.

You may eat what you like and sleep in the usual bed. Only, Inez?—”

She hesitated, anticipating Joseph’s protest. He always rated her when she took in the destitute, fearing someone she sheltered might open the house to thieves. “Mr. Joseph won’t permit you to entertain friends, I’m afraid.”

“I understand , senhorita ,” Inez said. “No visitors. I will tend to Mr. Illingworth only. Obrigada, ” she added gratefully, squeezing Amaranthe’s hand.

“Who knows but that we might have a better position to offer you tomorrow.” Amaranthe regarded the growing pile of provisions. “It appears I will be called upon to staff a ducal household.”

Mrs. Blackthorn’s eyes glowed. She enjoyed a challenge for her skills.

“We can’t leave those poor mites to shift for themselves, Miss Amaranthe. Abandoned in their own house, and the servants nicking whatever they can carry! Have you ever heard of such a scrape?”

“Mr. Grey, whoever he is, certainly seems to have made a mull of things,” Amaranthe replied. “To think that he expects me to set things in order, after he crashed into my house accusing me of kidnapping the children!” She sniffed. “He does not seem awake on all suits, as Joseph would say.”

“Oh, is that the way of it, then?” Eyde raised a curious brow, then scoffed at the sight of Amaranthe’s plain gown. “Will ye nil ye, you’d best spruce yourself up if you’re dining in a duke’s home, Miss Amaranthe. I can have your hair fixed in a trice.”

“I am not sprucing myself up for Mr. Grey or anyone else,” Amaranthe said. “To be clear, I am only doing this so that Joseph’s position may be secure.”

“And as those poor dear cheelin need a hand.” Eyde herded Amaranthe upstairs to her tiny bedchamber and pinned her with swift efficiency into her one decent day gown, a striped wool open robe with a dark blue stomacher.

Amaranthe descended the stairs to find that all had been ordered.

The ducal coach sat before her door, blocking traffic in George Court from both directions, while Davey perched atop a wagon hired from the Blue Posts to convey the servants and their luggage.

Grey leaned glowering against the coach, where the children had already been settled, but he stepped forward readily enough to help Davey stow the baskets of food and Mrs. Blackthorn’s other provisions in the wagon.

Amaranthe would have guessed he did nothing more strenuous than stroll in splendid attire up and down the walks of the fashionable all day, but he hefted the heaviest basket with ease.

She turned to climb onto the plank seat of the wagon and jumped at the voice at her shoulder.

“You’ll ride with us, of course.”

She stared into his surprising blue eyes. Yes, there was intelligence there, and arrogance, and a touch of wariness, too. But there was another element in his expression that she couldn’t identify.

He was tall and, standing close to her, too large for comfort. There was something sharp and hard about him that she wasn’t accustomed to seeing in the gentlemen of her acquaintance.

Joseph was easy tempered and easily pleased, and the businessmen Amaranthe dealt with were congenial if sometimes shrewd. Grey seemed as if he were always on the alert, as if he didn’t trust he could let his guard down for a moment.

He stood with his hand extended, waiting to help her into the ducal coach, regarding her as if she were a puzzle he meant to solve.

She stared. His was a large hand, a strong hand. His riding gloves were of fine material, worn, but in good repair. It was the glove of a man who used his hands. Not at all what she had expected.

Why was she involving herself, again, in something that did not concern her?

The last time she had done so, she lost her home.

Though Joseph was employed in the household, and she felt the compulsion to make up for his oversight, she had no responsibility to these children.

It fell to this man, their erstwhile guardian, to look after them.

And she could not afford to let strangers see too deeply into her affairs. At least not until this latest manuscript was completed and the results of her labors achieved. She needed to be on her guard, too.

“You are coming, aren’t you?” Grey said softly, and Amaranthe realized what his uneasiness signified. For all his size and self-assurance, he wasn’t a man accustomed to command or to having his wishes met. He waited as if he fully expected she would swat his hand aside and walk away.

The realization, perversely, clarified her resolve. He needed her help, and he resented that, but she did not intend to walk away from someone who needed her.

She took his hand.