Miss Nothing (Unexpected Heirs)

Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

T he heat from the kitchen made the whole place unbearably hot, and she’d had no rest since she’d left home. Mr. Keynsham had been gone for at least a quarter of an hour, and she was tired. She took off her bonnet and pelisse, folded the latter over the back of a chair tucked against the wall, and sat down to wait.

An army of servants scurried to and fro. Every time the door to the back stairs swung open, the distant music from the rooms above grew louder for a few moments. Then the door swung shut again and the music could scarcely be heard over the clatter of dishes and plates and the sharp, French-accented orders of the cook.

“I said you there!” A middle-aged man in a splendid black jacket was standing before her. “How dare you!” He thrust a white apron into her hands. “Put this back on!”

Back on?

She stared at him, uncertain how to reply. Keynsham had told her not to make any trouble. But… “And stop gaping! These country girls! None of them are ever up to the mark,” he added, to no one in particular.

Was it that obvious that she was from the country? She stood and, bewildered, put on the apron. He seized her by the elbow and marched her to the kitchen door. “If I see you lazing about again I’ll make sure her ladyship hears of it—temporary staff or no temporary staff. Look sharp and help set up the ices in the Green Saloon!”

Ices? Green Saloon? What could he mean?

“Are you daft? What are you waiting for? Take this tray and march yourself upstairs. Quickly!” Before she could protest, he thrust a heavy silver tray loaded with silver cups into her hands.

Surely it was better just to get out of his sight than to try to make a lengthy explanation. Besides, if she argued with him, she’d only call attention to herself.

She followed a housemaid up the back stairs.

The silver cups were filled with ices. The cold metal was already fogged and sweating droplets of moisture in the heat of the house. Indeed, it was hot enough even in the stairwell that for a moment she felt faint. She flattened herself against the wall as a stream of servants—footmen in cream and blue livery, housemaids in plain dark gowns and white aprons—clattered down the stairs past her.

Plain dark gowns …. The man who’d ordered her up here had mistaken her for a housemaid.

This gown was her oldest, and the one she usually wore for household chores. She’d chosen it in hopes of passing unnoticed on her journey. Besides, it was perfectly suitable for a lady’s companion… or at least, so she’d hoped. Now she wondered if it was too plain and old.

But climbing several flights of stairs while struggling to hold the heavy tray level didn’t leave her much energy to worry about her ensemble. All she could think about was being able to put it down, rest her aching arms and catch her breath.

A pass door off a landing was still swinging. She went through it and found herself in a room so elegant that it could have been an engraving in the pages of Ackermann’s Repository .

The walls were pale green silk and the draperies a deep claret brocade. A long table had been set up against one wall, and the white linen set off the gleaming silver candelabras. Overhead more candles sparkled in crystal chandeliers.

From the other side of a pair of tall, cream-painted double doors she could hear the irresistible strains of “The Lancers.” People were dancing! She gave an involuntary sigh of happiness. She’d only ever attended a few local assemblies—none of them particularly magical. But this was exactly the way she’d always imagined a grand London evening party.

Except that—well, she hadn’t imagined attending it as a housemaid.

“You there! Move out of the way!” It was a young footman, carrying an even larger tray than hers, his white powdered wig slightly askew and a bead of sweat running down the side of his face from beneath it.

“I beg your pardon.” She stepped aside. “Where am I meant to put these?”

His eyebrows went up. “Why, on the table, of course! ‘Beg your pardon’ indeed, your ladyship! ”

Chastened, she hurried across the room and set the heavy tray down. “Not like that!” The footman set his own tray down and began to rearrange the silver cups. “Cream ices go separate to the fruit ices!”

“I… I didn’t know there was a difference.”

The young footman was more friendly now that he was no longer staggering under the weight of the heavy tray. “Here. Put those there. That’s right. Hired fresh from the country, eh? That explains why I’ve never seen you before. I always remember a pretty face.”

A pretty face? The last thing she needed was a man trying to flirt with her. She smiled tightly.

He leaned closer. “I tell you what: Tonight you’ll see something you won’t soon forget. Her ladyship had Gunther’s make it special, and it’s just been delivered: A molded ice in the shape of Laversham Court. That’s the Alford’s country seat! What do you say to that?”

Who were the Alfords? “I—I am certain that it is very impressive.”

“Impressive! I’d say so! They say it cost twenty guineas! My name’s Stephen, by the way.”

Twenty guineas! For a molded ice?

“And I’ll tell you what else: His Highness the Prince Regent is invited. He knows that her ladyship’s suppers are all the crack! So you may well see royalty tonight. What do you say to that ?”

The swinging door to the back stairs crashed open. “Stephen! Are you paid to flirt with housemaids?”

“No sir.”

It was the butler again. He glared at her. “You! I should have known. Get below-stairs and bring up the next tray. We have only ten minutes to finish with the dessert table!”