Pauline froze in disbelief. On the doorstep stood not one, but two familiar people. The woman she’d known in Spindle Cove as Miss Minerva Highwood. And Miss Minerva’s husband—Colin Sandhurst, Lord Payne.
“I knew it,” Minerva said, pushing past the duke to catch Pauline in a desperate hug. “Never fear, Pauline. We’ve come to save you. ”
Having opened the door, Griff took on the duty of closing it. As he did so, he felt heartily sorry that these two visitors were on the wrong side.
“It’s been too long, Halford. ” Payne offered a hand and a genial smile.
Not long enough. For his part, he could have lasted a week or two more.
Lady Payne looked up at him, eyes burning with violence behind those wire-rimmed spectacles. “You revolting trilobite. ”
Charming. And here he had been wondering what Payne saw in the girl.
“If only I hadn’t left my reticule at home,” she said bitterly.
He hadn’t the faintest idea what that signified, but he supposed this wasn’t a conversation to conduct in the entrance hall.
Griff showed them to his study—it was one room he felt certain would not be occupied by a sobbing housemaid. Ringing for tea seemed a chancy prospect. He poured Payne a brandy and made the offer of a cordial to the ladies. Another episode in today’s adventures in self-sufficiency.
“Pauline, what’s happened?” Payne’s excitable wife asked. “What’s he done to you?”
“My lady, he’s only employed me. I’m in this house working as a companion to his mother, the duchess. ”
“Oh, really. ” Lady Payne’s voice was rich with skepticism. “And where is the duchess now?”
“She is upstairs,” Griff said. “Dealing with a small crisis of the house staff. ”
“So,” she huffed. “Servants in this house are often unhappy. ” She slid her gaze between Pauline and Griff. “And I’m to believe nothing untoward has happened between you?”
“You’re to believe it’s none of your concern,” Griff answered. “Why are you so suspicious of me?”
“I’m not suspicious. My dislike of you is formed on abundant evidence. I’ve been to that ghastly pleasure palace you keep. ” She turned to Pauline. “Do you know he has a den of iniquity in the country?”
Pauline shook her head. “No, my lady. It wouldn’t be my business to know that. ”
Griff frowned. Why had she become so docile and compliant all of a sudden? This was hardly the same Pauline he knew. Certainly not the same Pauline who’d pressed him back against his bed last night and dragged her tongue over every inch of his chest.
“It’s called Winterset Grange. I was there last year,” his bespectacled inquisitioner continued, speaking to Pauline. “Colin and I stopped the night there on our journey to Scotland. Oh, it was disgusting. ” She shuddered.
“Not so disgusting that you declined my hospitality,” Griff said, leaning against the desk and crossing his arms. “And if you’ll forgive me for saying it, Lady Payne, I’m not sure you have the moral high ground in this particular tale. ”
“What can you mean?”
“By your own admission, you’d run away from your family with a scandalous rake. And, I might add, lied to my face about your identity. I seem to remember Payne introducing you as Melissande, some sort of long-lost Alpine princess and cold-blooded assassin who spoke not a word of English. I mean, really. An Alpine princess-assassin. You will call me depraved?”
She sat tall, indignant. “You made inappropriate overtures to me. And you suggested Colin wager my favors in a game of cards. What can you say to that?”
He spread his hands. “Alpine. Princess. Assassin. ”
She fumed at him.
Griff said, “I admit that the scene you wandered into was one of flagrant vice. I’m just pointing out that you were hardly the saint in the lion’s den. Isn’t it conceivable that we’ve all changed in the past year?”
“People don’t change that much,” she said. “Not in essentials. ”
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” he replied angrily. “In essentials. ”
He stalked toward the window. This conversation was making him angry, and a little bit afraid. It had been a full year since he’d engaged in anything like Lady Payne described. His heart and his life had fundamentally changed. And no one saw it. Not Payne, whom he’d once thought a close friend. Not even his own mother. Society still linked him with opulent debauchery, and those assumptions would color the way they perceived anyone close to him—including Pauline.
So this was the price he paid for a misspent youth. Last autumn he’d wanted nothing more than to give his daughter a respectable life. Perhaps it was best she hadn’t lived to feel the brunt of his failure. She would have been ashamed to be his.
He tossed back a large swallow of brandy, feeling it burn all the way down.
Payne approached him and spoke in confidential tones. “Listen, Halford. My wife can be protective, but we’re truly not here to grill you on your life choices. We’re just concerned for Pauline. I spent many dark nights in that village tavern. It’s not much of a stretch to say her friendly smile and quickness with a pint saved my life a time or two. She’s a sweet girl, and she means well. ”
He bit back a curse. “You don’t know her at all. You never took the time to learn anything about her. ”
“I know her family situation. I know she hasn’t anyone to look out for her. ”
“She does now,” Griff said. The words came from his gut.
Payne’s eyebrows lifted meaningfully. “Oh, does she?”
“Yes. ”
“And you’re certain that’s what she wants, too?”
“She’s an intelligent, free-thinking adult. Ask her. ” With a gruff sigh, Griff moved away from his conference with Payne. “Miss Simms, if you are concerned about my personal history, or unhappy with the terms of our arrangement—if you want to leave this house for any reason at all—I will write you a bank draft this moment, and you can go with Lord and Lady Payne. ”
Her gaze alternated back and forth between him and their visitors. As though she were giving it close, thoughtful consideration.
Good God. Perhaps she did want to leave him.
“Well?” he asked again, somewhat hoarsely this time. “Do you want to go?”
Chapter Twenty-one
Pauline halfheartedly wished she had the strength to say yes. It would be the easiest way. She and Griff would have to part eventually, and the parting would only grow more difficult.
But she couldn’t go this morning. Because she loved him. She loved him, and she couldn’t let him go just yet.
“No, your grace,” she said. “I want to stay. ”
“Well, then. ” He turned to Minerva. “I assume you’re satisfied. ”
Lady Payne didn’t even speak to him, instead approaching Pauline. She pushed a small square of paper into her hand. “Here is our calling card. I’ve written our direction on the back, and Lady Rycliff’s as well. If you need anything—anything at all—you can always come to us. Day or night, do you understand?”
Pauline nodded. “You are very good, the both of you. I’m grateful for your concern. ”
Even if she didn’t need it, it felt good to know they cared.
Griff showed them out. When he returned, he was glowering. “What was that?” he asked.
“I don’t know. They seemed to have the wrong idea. ”
“Well, you didn’t leap to correct them. You barely spoke at all, except for all that ‘your grace’-ing and ‘my lord and lady’-ing. ”
He was angry with her? “What else should I say? He is a lord. She is a lady. And you are a duke. ”
“But on intellect and character, you are the equal of anyone in the room. Why would you defer so easily to them, when you’ve never been anything but impertinent with me?”
“It
’s different with you. Everything’s different with you. But you can’t blame this all on me. You were rather standoffish yourself. It’s not as though you jumped to tell them we’re having a deeply passionate affaire. ”
He waved at the door. “Because I knew how they’d receive it. ”
“Precisely. The same way everyone would receive that news. As an impossibility, at best. At worst, something shameful and sordid. ”
Pauline understood why he was upset. She felt the same way. The people who’d just visited them were the closest thing they had to mutual friends, and if even they wouldn’t credit a relationship between Griff and her, it was truly hopeless. No one would accept them together. No one.
She sighed. It shouldn’t come as a surprise. It didn’t matter what the poems said. There was no other England, no other London with its Tower. There was only this world they lived in, and it was unyielding on matters of class.
“There are thirty-three ranks of precedence between a serving girl and a duchess,” she said quietly. “Did you know that? The chart takes up three pages in Mrs. Worthington’s Wisdom. I have it all in my head. Duchesses are at the very top—after the queen and princesses, of course. The order goes duchesses, marchionesses, countesses . . . ”
As she recited the ranks, she ticked them off on her fingers. “ . . . then wives of the eldest sons of marquesses, then wives of the younger sons of dukes. Then come the daughters. Daughters of dukes, daughters of marquesses. Next viscountesses, then wives of eldest sons of earls. Then daughters of earls . . . ”
“Pauline. ”
“ . . . that’s ten ranks already, and I’m not even to baronesses yet. Let alone all the orders of knighthood and the military ranks. And below those, you have—”
He approached her and tipped her face, forcing her to look him in the eye. “Pauline. ”
“I’m not even on the chart. ” She blinked hard. “A girl like me, Griff . . . I’m so far below you. When we’re alone together, we might be able to forget it. But no one else will. ”
“Forget it? You think I forget who you are when we’re together?”
She fidgeted. He must forget, a little. From their very first meeting, he’d afforded her more respect and attention than any nobleman would ever intentionally give a servant. “What matters is, we have to remember ourselves eventually. If we don’t, society will force the point. ”
He stared at her for a long moment. “Perhaps you’re right. We should remember ourselves. ”
“I’m glad you agree. ”
He crossed the room, closed the study door, and turned the key in the lock. The tumbler gave an ominous click.
“Clear the desk, Simms. ”
“What? I don’t see—”
“Don’t argue,” he clipped. “You’re a serving girl, and you wanted me to recall it. I’m the duke in the room, and I’ve bid you to clear the desk. It’s what you do, isn’t it? Clear tables?”
Is that what he was initiating, then? Playing roles? The libertine duke and the naughty serving girl?
Well . . . After about two seconds’ pause, Pauline decided she could get inspired for that.
She reached for the inkwell and cautiously moved it to a nearby lamp table, where it wouldn’t spill. Then with one hand, she made a broad sweep across the desktop, sending blotter, papers, sealing wax, and more crashing to the floor. “There. ”
“Such impertinence. ”
“It’s what you like. ”
He tugged at his cravat, loosening it as he crossed the room. “You need to learn your place. ”
“Is this my place, your grace?” She pushed herself up to sit on the desktop, legs dangling.