takes me half an hour.’
‘I take note, Miss Nightingale.’
She gritted her teeth. ‘It’s Rose, Your Grace. Just Rose.’ A duke did not offer courtesy to a servant, not if he didn’t want to cause talk.
‘Rose. Good day.’
Good? What was good about today? This wasn’t finished. She could feel it in her bones and down her spine. But the reprieve would give her a chance to find a new position before he changed his mind and she was let go without a character.
* * *
As the day progressed she became less worried about him changing his mind. All seemed just as usual. No calls by Mrs Parker to see her in her office. As a precaution, she stayed close to the kitchen, never being tempted into visiting her friends in case she ran into the Duke. When, at the end of the work day there was still no threat of dismissal, she heaved a sigh of relief. It seemed all was well. She scuttled out of the side door as quick as a wink, not wanting to tempt fate by lingering in the Green Room.
‘Rose.’
A tall lean shadow detached itself from the darkness in the alley outside the back door.
She swallowed the dryness in her throat. Her heart sank. ‘Why are you here, Your Grace?’
‘I want to talk to you.’
Here it came then, after all. Her notice.
‘Allow me to escort you home. We can talk while we walk.’
‘I’m not taking you to where I live. I am a decent girl, I am.’ Her landlord would be scandalised. Well, perhaps not. He didn’t seem to care about that sort of thing, given what his other tenants were up to. But she didn’t want anyone getting the wrong impression about her. It wouldn’t take much and coming home on the arm of a toff like him would do it.
The Duke frowned and looked about him. ‘You can’t surely be intending to walk the streets alone.’
‘Today is no different to any other day, Your Grace.’
He looked nonplussed. ‘You will, however, permit me to walk you, if not all the way, then at least to the end of your street.’
The firmness in his voice said he was not to be denied.
‘As you wish,’ she muttered. She’d find a way to be rid of him long before then. She knew the neighbourhood like the back of her hand, whereas he surely did not.
They walked some distance in silence and she kept waiting for him to tell her she was dismissed. Finally she could not stand it any longer. ‘What is it you wished to talk about?’
He gave her a look askance. ‘I have a request to make of you. Well, more of a proposition, I suppose.’
Her heart stilled. Did she really want this? She gripped her basket tight.
* * *
Jake could not figure out what was the matter with him. He was usually so articulate, so charming around women. With Rose, he kept stumbling over his words like an adolescent stumbling over feet too large for a gangly body. And heaven knew, every time he opened his mouth he seemed to put one of those very large feet right in it.
He also noticed that while Rose seemed willing to let him walk beside her, she deliberately kept her small basket over the arm closest to him. Effectively keeping him at a distance.
Well, perhaps that wasn’t such a surprise. He’d been so horrified to see her on her hands and knees that morning he’d been unable to think straight. A nap had sorted him out, somewhat. After all, finding her, knowing where she was, had enabled him to relax enough to actually close his eyes without being haunted by images—He cut the thought off. Nonsense.
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