“I’m, ah…pleased to be here, Mrs. Briggs. I’ve brought my reference from Lady Dunton, as promised.” Miss Gilchrist reached into her reticule, withdrew a paper, and handed itto Mrs. Briggs.
“Ah, yes.” Mrs. Briggs turned to Gideon. “Miss Gilchrist comes with excellent references from Lady Dunton, my lord. She worked for eleven years as an upstairs maid at Lady Dunton’s country estate in Stoneleigh,near Coventry.”
“Did she, indeed?” he asked in surprise. Miss Gilchrist had the bearing and speechof a Londoner.
“Oh, yes.” Mrs. Briggs beamed at Miss Gilchrist. “I daresay she’ll be a great help to us here.”
He held out his hand. “May I seethe reference?”
“Yes, of course, my lord.” Mrs. Briggs handedhim the paper.
Gideon read the page over carefully, paying particular attention to the date and Lady Dunton’s signature. It looked authentic enough, but he wasn’t satisfied. He tossed the letter onto his desk. “Forgive me, Miss Gilchrist, but you look quite young. At what age did you gointo service?”
“Twelve, my lord.”
“Then you’re three and twenty?”
“Yes, my lord. Three and twenty.”
Gideon steepled his fingers under his chin, his eyes narrowing on the wash of color rising from her neck to her cheeks. Either Miss Gilchrist didn’t like to own her age, which was unlikely for a woman of three and twenty, or she was lying to him, and doing a poor job of it. “You don’t look to be older than nineteen or twenty, Miss Gilchrist.”
“Um…thankyou, my lord?”
Despite himself, Gideon’s lips twitched. “Were you raisedin Stoneleigh?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Another lie, if the deepening red at her throat was any indication.
“Stoneleigh is quite a distance from Kent. Is this the first time you’ve ventured out of Warwickshire county?” Gideon was toying with a letter opener on his desk, and Miss Gilchrist was following the movement, her gaze fixed on the point as he turned it casually between his fingers.
“Yes, my lord.”
Gideon raised an eyebrow. That was her thirdyes, my lordsince she’d entered his study. The impertinence he’d noticed in the courtyard had disappeared, replaced by a docility much more appropriate in a servant. Perhaps it should have reassured him, but it felt false, as if he were watching her play-act at being a housemaid.
“Well then, my lord. Shall I take her upstairs and see her settled?” Mrs. Briggs didn’t seem to notice anything amiss, but appeared well satisfied with hernew housemaid.
Miss Gilchrist half-rose from her seat and hovered there, like a bird balanced on the edge of a branch, ready to take flight at any hint of a nod from him. He took in her clenched fingers and the fluttering pulse at the base of her throat, and shook his head. “No, not just yet, Mrs. Briggs. I’d like to have a bit more conversation with Miss Gilchrist first.”
“Of course, my lord.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Briggs.” Gideon waved a hand toward the door. “Youmay leave us.”
Miss Gilchrist looked as if she were digging her fingernails into her palms to keep herself from clutching at Mrs. Briggs’s arm to prevent her leaving.
“Yes, my lord.” Mrs. Briggs offered Miss Gilchrist an encouraging smile, then turned and made her way toward the door.
Miss Gilchrist watched her go, swallowing as Mrs. Briggs closed the door behind her.
Gideon tossed the letter opener aside and rapped his knuckles against his desk. “Your attention if you please, Miss Gilchrist.”
She jumped, and met his gaze.“Yes, my lord.”
Gideon regarded her in silence for far longer than was comfortable for either of them, then he said, “The ribbons on your hat.”
She reached for the bonnet perched atop her head. “My ribbons?”
Gideon noticed her hand was shaking, but he ignored the twinge of his conscience. “That shade of blue is the latest fashion in London, and your cloak, which was also almost certainly made in London, is an exceptionally fine one for a Warwickshire housemaid.”
