Chapter 5
“How did it go?” Sarah asked, bouncing on her toes, her good arm pressed to her chest, the other sleeve neatly pinned up to hide where the limb ended just above the elbow.
Letitia smiled at her friend, trying to shake off the utter strangeness of the encounter with the Duke of Rutley.
Sarah Greystone had been Letty’s close friend since they were children.
They’d both worked as maids in Belgium, training under Sarah’s late mother, who was a housekeeper for an elderly Englishwoman.
Letitia was skilled enough at her letters that their employer kindly arranged for her to attend school to train as a governess, while Sarah stayed behind with her mother, but the two girls never lost touch.
When their employer and Sarah’s mother had both passed, Sarah had found herself without protection in the world—and since she had been born without much of her right arm, she’d been without the means to secure herself new employment.
It didn’t matter that Sarah’s cooking was the kind of thing that made angels weep. Nobody wanted a one-armed servant.
When Letitia had left Belgium to work for the Lightholders, she had used her very first wages to summon her friend to London and to secure these lodgings, meager though they were.
Letty had never regretted this decision, not for a moment, though she knew that Sarah struggled with guilt over relying on Letitia’s earnings.
“It was fine,” Letitia said, shrugging out of her spencer.
It was her best one, the one she wore when she needed to make a good impression.
She wasn’t about to risk getting anything on it by wearing it at home.
“I think the Bassetts are the better choice, however. Do we still have the letter from them? I should return the note.”
“Of course!” Sarah pulled the letter from the little shelf where they kept such things, then handed it to Letitia before shooing her over to their small table. “You send your reply. I am almost finished cooking supper.”
Like most homes of this size, their little flat didn’t have a proper kitchen, but it did have a fire, and Sarah was fiercely committed to stretching their pennies as far as she could.
When Letitia worked for the Lightholders, who paid generously and provided her with room and board, this wasn’t as crucial; now, she appreciated her friend’s frugality.
It helped keep her nagging worries at bay while she searched for new employment.
“It smells wonderful,” Letitia called absently as she mixed a small amount of ink.
She wouldn’t bother asking what it was. Recently, they’d had stew, stew, and more stew, as it was one of the easier and cheaper foods to make.
Letty liked stew—and Sarah made a delicious one—but she was starting to have vivid, longing dreams about other meals. Any other meal, really.
Sarah made a vague noise of acknowledgment, implying that she was also tired of eating the same foods repeatedly but didn’t want to complain.
Letitia wasn’t sure if complaining would help, but she was beginning to think that this stubborn cheerfulness might drive both of them crazy.
She now had an offer of employment, though. She would begin working again soon. That would change things.
“I applied for another post today,” Sarah said from her place in front of the fire. “But they sent me away as soon as they saw my arm. I am so sorry, Letty.”
Letitia paused in the act of dipping her pen in the ink to give her friend a stern look.
“Do not apologize,” she said firmly.
“But—”
“Sarah Greystone, I will throw this ink at you. And then you will have ink in your hair. Do you know how hard it will be to get ink out of your hair?”
Sarah paused. “I might catch it,” she said after a moment, the heaviness gone from her voice. “I am very adroit like that.”
“Shall we test it?” Letty asked lightly, just to make her friend laugh.
As Sarah served up the stew, Letitia carefully wrote her acceptance of the role at the Bassetts. She didn’t have paper to spare if she made splotches, so she was cautious as she agreed to start Monday next.
As she signed her name, however, she felt a pang, thinking of little Iris and her… guardian? She didn’t even know what the duke was to the little girl. Was the poor thing a by-blow? And, if so, was she being raised in the duke’s household?
It was all very strange, but mysteries were impractical things, made for people with too much time on their hands. Letitia was busy, and she needed stable employment, not a dramatic situation with a bizarre man.
She could not trust him. It was as simple as that. And she did not have the luxuries of taking risks.
She blew on the ink to dry it. If she hurried, she could get it in the evening post. And then that would be that. She wouldn’t think about the Duke of Rutley again.
* * *
“Bassett,” Ezra said smoothly, enjoying the jolt of alarm that went through the man.
Goodness, but there really was something delightful about terrorizing people with one’s mere presence. Even if Ezra had not spent years gathering secrets for a specific purpose, all the work would have been worth it for moments like this.
Bassett recovered quickly from finding Ezra—a man he would know only by reputation—sitting in his study. He pasted a friendly smile on his face.
“Your Grace,” he said, nodding his head politely. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Ezra didn’t have the patience to play games.
He had a child in his house who still wouldn’t speak to anyone—except, apparently, Miss Letitia Knightley—a nefarious plot to uncover, and a family to avoid.
He already disliked Bassett, who, it was whispered, liked to press his attentions upon his maids, but now that dislike had sharpened into something personal.
It had not taken much more digging to find a weapon he could use.
“You are going to dismiss your new governess,” he said flatly, sneering into Bassett’s stupid, smiling face.
“I beg your finest pardon?” Bassett laughed, surprised. “I certainly am not.”
Ezra smiled his deadliest smile.
“You are,” he said. “You are going to write to her at once and tell her that the offer of employment has been rescinded.”
“No,” Bassett said carefully. The man was brave; Ezra would give him that.
It wasn’t going to stop him from destroying the lord, but it was worth noting.
“I am not. My wife liked her. Do you have any idea how long she’s been nattering on at me about finding a suitable governess?
I am not going to get rid of the first chit who has applied who actually shut her up. ”
Ezra relaxed in his seat. It really was so gratifying when an enemy gave you a good reason to hate him.
Bassett mistook Ezra’s comfort as a sign that he was winning.
“Besides,” he added, almost confidingly, as if they were two friends. “The new girl is very comely.” He made a rude gesture with his hands that Ezra took as approximating Miss Knightley’s shape. “The kind of servant you want around to… serve you.”
Ezra stood very slowly. When he had reached his full height, which would have loomed several inches over Bassett even if the man had been standing, he took a single, purposeful step forward.
“I understand that your wife’s father still controls the family’s finances,” he said calmly.
“That’s part of the problem with marrying an heiress, I suppose—you have to wait for her to actually inherit.
But your father by marriage has proven inconveniently long-lived, so you still depend on his good graces. ”
This was not common knowledge, but it was not precisely a secret, either. Bassett’s eyes narrowed cautiously.
“I can’t see what that has to do with—”
“How do you think, then, that the old man would react if he learned that you have been spending his money to keep a mistress over in the theater district? A former opera singer, was she?”
This was a secret.
“How did you—” Bassett sputtered, but Ezra kept talking.
“Very expensive lodgings you have for her, aren’t they?
Excessively expensive, one might say. I know men often have their indiscretions, but do you think that your family’s support would continue if they learned that it was funneling not to their own daughter and grandchildren, but to an Italian alto with a taste for fine things? ”
Bassett had gone paler and paler with every word. Now, he was white as a ghost.
“What do you even care about some governess?” he asked.
“That,” Ezra said, tapping the desk lightly with his knuckles, “is none of your business. Now.” He smiled at Bassett again, the smile of a shark to a school of fish.
“You will terminate Miss Knightley’s employment within the next two days, or I will write to your father-in-law.
And then the chips will fall where they may. ”
“You Lightholders are a curse!” Bassett spat as Ezra turned to go.
The duke paused. For once, he didn’t bother to deny his family ties.
“And I am the worst of the lot,” he said pleasantly. “Don’t delay, Bassett. You will not like the consequences.”
And then he left, confident that the lord would do as he had been told. After all, nobody ever denied Ezra Swifton’s requests.
Nobody except Letitia Knightley.
And that was about to change.