The Mogul and the Maid (A Few Good Bucks #1)

Chapter 1

“Lucy, open the door, love.”

Noted businessman Adam Chevestrer heard a noise and grew hopeful that the door would finally open to him, but the scraping turned out to be the setting of a bolt.

He slumped against the townhouse wall, wishing he smoked so he’d have some way to pass the time as he waited for Lucy Makeblythe, lady’s maid and apple of his eye, to talk to him.

He’d risen from the slums to become a leading mogul of the high street, but he wasn’t currently high in Lucy’s estimation.

It had been months since he’d seen her, and he was growing frantic that she’d locked him out for good. After what they’d shared in a ducal hallway—

The bolt scraped again, and the door opened slowly.

“I heard you’ve been making a racket at my servant’s entrance,” drawled a voice from inside. “I’ve been told to send you off.”

There, in the doorway to his kitchen, leaned Laurence Balistarius, Duke of Astwell.

“Don’t look so smug,” said Adam, shouldering his way in and taking a seat at the scarred work table used all day by the duke’s and duchess’s staff. Thankfully, it was late at night and the servants had all gone to bed already, hence Adam’s visit.

“Tell me: was your brilliant idea to holler like a fishwife until you stole Makeblythe’s heart, or did you have some other plan that I can’t fathom despite my exceptional intelligence?” asked Laurence, settling at the head of the humble table.

Adam regarded his friend. “You’re a real smug prig now that you’re happily in love, you know that?”

The duke accepted the jab with good humor, having just come down from the bed he now shared with his wife — to which he hoped to return most expeditiously. He owed some of that happiness to Adam. He’d give his friend five minutes.

“I’m required upstairs,” said Laurence, smiling as he thought of what had been promised when he left his wife Julia’s side, “so we should discuss your strategy. Quickly.”

Adam looked at his hands, trying to formulate a response. “Strategy? I’m rich, she’s a maid. I’ve tried to tell her how I feel. Is this not enough?”

Laurence regarded Adam with horror. “Jaysus, man! Are you proposing with a balance sheet?”

“Who said anything about proposing?” asked Adam, alarmed at the sudden escalation.

“Proposing an arrangement then,” said Laurence. “It’s not the eighteenth century. You can’t expect a fine girl like Makeblythe to come rushing into your arms because you’ve a splendid carriage and patronize my tailor.”

Adam slumped, shooting his cuffs. “He’s an excellent tailor.”

“That he is. Now, what’s your actual plan?”

“Return every night until she agrees to speak with me?”

Laurence nodded no, as if confronted with the most hopeless of cases. Thankfully, he knew something about how to recover from being a hopeless case.

“Why are you here, anyway?”

“Because I want to speak with her?”

“What would you say to her if she was the one sitting at this table?”

“I don’t want to tell you,” said Adam, scoffing.

Laurence looked to the heavens, as if asking for patience. Under his breath, he said, “Pretend that she is listening nearby, then. What would you say to her?”

Adam was not a stupid man. His heart beat faster knowing that she was near, likely eavesdropping on their conversation. He gathered the last shreds of his composure and spoke a little louder.

“Having known Lucy,” he said, letting the verb fill in some blanks for the duke, “I would like to know her better. Spend time with her.”

Laurence leaned back in his chair, allowing the light from the gas lamp to caress his aristocratic nose. “What are you saying, man? You want to take her for ices?”

“Yes, ices,” said Adam, confused about what sort of game they were playing.

Laurence rotated his hand in a circular motion, prompting Adam to continue.

“And we can go to the theater!” he said, warming to the theme.

“I’m guessing that, as your girl, you’d ensure she’s properly outfitted for such occasions? The duchess keeps Makeblythe in a very particular sort of maid’s uniform these days that would no doubt raise eyebrows in public.”

Adam salivated, recalling just that uniform and how good she felt when he got under it.

“Focus, man,” said Laurence under his breath.

“I’d make sure that Lucy is turned out splendidly on such occasions.”

Laurence raised his brows.

“With new dresses, hats, and all the underthings,” he said, projecting his voice in the direction he believed her to be hiding. “I own shops; I can outfit her in anything she likes.”

“Shoes.”

Adam bolted from his seat. “Lucy?”

Her small voice came from nearby, and Adam’s heart leaped at finally finding out that she was alive, somewhat willing to speak to him, and apparently desirous of footwear.

She didn’t reply, but he broke into a grin at hearing her voice for the first time in months. “How do you fare, Lucy?”

She didn’t respond, but he knew he had at last broken the wall between them.

“I’ll have your things delivered — including the shoes — and perhaps we might enjoy a day in the park. I could row you around the Serpentine and take you for an ice. When is your day off, love?”

“Sunday.”

Her voice came from the same place, and it took everything not to advance on what appeared to be the Astwell still room and capture her lips. But he was a patient man, and he meant to repair things with Miss Lucy Makeblythe.

“Sunday, then,” he said. “I’ll collect you after church?”

She didn’t respond, but Laurence’s smile as he rose from the table said that Adam was well on his way to a very pleasant interlude with the duchess’s lady’s maid.

“I’ll see that the packages arrive tomorrow,” said Adam loudly as he walked out the servant’s entrance after finally gaining entry.

Laurence saw to the door himself and called out as Adam nearly skipped up the steps to the street.

“You’ll take care with her, won’t you?” Laurence asked, pensive.

“Of course,” said Adam, amazed that his friend, once notorious for philandering, was now protective of women down to his wife’s lady’s maid.

“She’s had a rough go since you last saw her. She’ll need gentle treatment.”

As Adam walked away, he wondered what had given Lucy such a terrible time, when he was the one doing all the suffering.