William lifted his gaze. Matilda Winslow was poised just inside the drawing room, watching them both with wary eyes.
He wanted Matilda, and he shouldn’t. Not this much.
Dawson glanced at Matilda too, and a slow smile spread over his face. William’s temper rose. Dawson was an excellent valet in every respect save one. He was entirely too interested in Matilda Winslow, and of late he’d had a lot to say on the subject of her continued employment as a maid.
“Put that coat away. The admiralty has no use for me yet.”
Dawson spun around to face him. “Very good, Captain.”
He nodded. He should be furious that he was languishing onshore, but truth be told, he wanted nothing more than to live out the rest of his life in relative peace. As he’d lain in recovery of his wounds, he had pondered if he had possibly given enough blood in the service of his country. If the admiralty never wanted him again, he would lose no sleep at being overlooked for a command.
Dawson cleared his throat. “Perhaps I could have a few moments of your time later, Captain.”
The butler arrived, ready to announce William’s waiting visitors. “Captain, you have guests.”
“I saw them, Carter.” William waved him off with an impatient jerk of his hand. He dismissed Dawson too. “After dinner tonight.”
Whatever problem Dawson had could wait. William had to decide, and quickly, how best to extract himself from the impending family ambush waiting downstairs.
“Thank you.” Dawson hurried away with a decided spring in his step. He frowned after Dawson but was unsurprised by his transparent delight. The man had been hinting all week the servants’ hall was badly managed. He’d suggested changes needed to be made to the household staff sooner rather than later. It was probably time to do something about it. The housekeeper and butler were too set in their ways, and according to Dawson the matter couldn’t wait until William married someone to take care of the trouble for him. The house was inefficiently run, with the bulk of the work falling to only a few. The place needed a woman’s touch.
However, marrying Maria Chudleigh was not part of his plan to fix what ailed his home. He did not find her the least bit appealing. She was too headstrong for what he needed in his life. When the time came, he’d marry someone he liked, a woman willing to be disciplined and capable of running his home with or without his involvement.
He was willing to wait his whole life for her.
A crash farther along the hall caught his attention. Matilda had toppled a vase of flowers. The vase was saved, but water splashed over the mahogany hall table and made quite a mess. He took a pace forward as Matilda simply stared at the slow-dripping water as if she was dazed.
“Miss Winslow,” he murmured in concern. “Are you well?”
“Yes, Captain. Forgive me.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and then threw her cloth over the puddle. “I’ll clean this up immediately.”
She was never usually so clumsy, but she had seemed out of sorts today. Tired too. Was it true that most of the work of the house fell to those most dedicated in his service?
He moved toward her as she knelt and dabbed ineffectually at the puddle, exhaling heavily as she worked.
After all she’d done for him, didn’t she deserve something more from life than menial work? He smiled. Perhaps there was a way to solve both his problem and help her escape a life of servitude.
His solution was unorthodox, and if she’d been born a lady he would never suggest it, but if he convinced Maria that he’d taken his maid as a lover and could never be persuaded to give Matilda up, the plague of womanhood might be shocked enough at him—disgusted too, he hoped—to give up her quest to become his wife.
It would be easily confirmed that Matilda had spent a great deal of time with him should enquiries be made. All he needed was Matilda Winslow’s agreement and participation to pull it off.
He strode toward Matilda purposely. “You will do something for me,” he demanded. Matilda stumbled to her feet, but he caught her before she tripped. “Not so fast. I need your help.”
Matilda struggled. “Let me go.”
“No.” He tugged her into his empty dressing room for a private word and shut the door. “You’re going to be my lover from today.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you out of your mind?”
William cursed under his breath. He had wondered that very thing many times—mostly when Matilda was near. She had the most distracting affect on his speech, causing him to blurt out orders rather than gild them with necessary politeness. He
had to do better than this if he wanted her help. He took a calming breath. “Quite possibly, but it is either convince others that I am hopelessly infatuated with a servant in my employ, or I will be blackmailed into marriage with that woman downstairs.”
Her brow creased and her fear disappeared entirely. “What woman?”
It went against the grain to confide in anyone, but she had to help him. “Miss Maria Chudleigh claims to have acquired a declaration of love from me in writing of all things. She is here now, most likely to advance her claim that we are to marry during the season.”
Her expression soured. “Congratulations.”