Each night it seemed harder to get warm. She’d lost too much weight. But the cold wasn’t the worst of her worries. The cleaning solutions she used each day were so harsh they were destroying her hands. She feared the cracks that were starting to bleed would soon turn into open sores, and she didn’t know how she’d continue to clean if that happened.
Would the stable master keep Geordie if she was turned out? Her little brother was all the family she had left. She couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from him. If she was forced to leave, she might never see him again since she’d have to go to London or Manchester if she hoped to find work. Even then, her chances of securing a suitable position wouldn’t be good. It was winter, and she’d arrive without so much as a letter of character.…
It’ll get easier, she told herself. It had to. In ways, her work here was worse than what she’d endured at the mine because even her free time was spent beneath someone else’s roof and without the slightest comfort.
Someone touched her shoulder. Startled and a little frightened by the unexpected contact, she twisted around to see who had crept up behind her. But she’d already extinguished her candle and it was far too dark to make out a face.
“Don’t be frightened. ’Tis me.”
Mary. Another one of the maids. Rachel recognized her distinctive Scottish accent.
“Is something wrong?” she whispered back.
“No. Scoot ye over.”
“Excuse me?”
“Do ye want to get warm or not? Yer teeth are chatterin’ so loud yer likely to wake the dead.”
Rachel was miserable enough to accept any crumb of human kindness. But she knew what helping her could potentially cost Mary.
“Mrs. Poulson won’t like it if… if you talk to me.”
“Mrs. Poulson ain’t here, is she?”
“The others—”
“Are asleep,” she broke in. “Hurry. Scoot.”
Afraid they’d both be penalized for this fraternization, Rachel reluctantly slid to one side. She didn’t know this young woman, hadn’t exchanged more than a few words with her over the past weeks. But when Mary got in and drew Rachel up against her, the instant relief brought tears to Rachel’s eyes.
“It’s all right,” Mary whispered. “Sleep. That’s what ye need.”
The lump in Rachel’s throat made it impossible for her to answer. She nodded. Then she lay there, thinking she probably wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. Her hands and her back hurt so terribly; it seemed like she ached everywhere. But before long she felt warm for the first time since she’d moved into the garret, and that was all it took. She drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep and was surprised in the morning to find Mary back in her own bed.
Hoping to offer her some form of thanks, Rachel took the rare and delicious peppermint drop that Geordie had passed along, which she’d been saving as a reminder of his love, from under the clothes in her chest. When she slipped it into Mary’s hand, Mary shook her head as if she’d refuse the gift. But the other girls were rousing at that moment, and neither one of them dared let on that anything had changed.
Lord Druridge was back. Rachel felt the excitement amongst the servants and heard the buzz of their voices in the kitchen as she put the teakettle on to boil for Cook.
A few minutes later, she saw him stride into the manse, looking slightly haggard—cold and tired. He must have been traveling all night to arrive so early in the morning.
Linley trudged in behind him and went straight to his bed while the earl climbed the staircase and disappeared into his study, where he remained all day. Rachel knew he was there because once it grew dark, she kept checking for light under the door. She was supposed to dust the bookshelves and was afraid Mrs. Poulson would find fault with her if she didn’t get it done, whether she’d had access to the room or not.
She went ahead with her other chores and kept returning, but it wasn’t until everyone else had gone to bed that she finally found the door ajar. Eager to finish so that she, too, could seek her rest, she slipped inside before realizing her mistake. The earl had not retired. He was standing in front of the fireplace, one hand on the mantel as he gazed into the flames.
At the sound of her entrance, he turned and ran a hand through his hair, which fell long and loose about his face. “Rachel.”
“I apologize for the intrusion, my lord. I thought… I will come back.” She pivoted, but he stopped her.
“No, it’s getting too late to put you off any longer. Go ahead and take care of whatever you have to do.”
While he was there with her?
Because he had told her to go about her business, she did, but she could feel his eyes following her every move.
“Am I… bothering you, my lord?”
His face creased into a disapproving frown. “You look thinner than when I saw you last. Are you not getting enough to eat?”
“I am fine, my lord.”
“And Geordie?”
She couldn’t resist the smile that tugged at her lips when she thought of her last visit with her brother. “He is very happy. I owe you my gratitude for that.”
It was easily the most effusive thing she’d ever said to him, but he didn’t return her smile. “Gratitude,” he mumbled, as if it was an odd word for her to use.
“Yes, my lord.”
“So… you like it here?”
She hesitated as she searched for the right words. “It is a… wonderful place for Geordie.”
“You like it about as much as facing a lynch mob, eh?” He chuckled dryly. “Enough said. Do you play chess, Rachel?”
Her eyes followed his to a table situated to one side of the fireplace. “Sir?”
“Chess. Surely, educated as you are, you know the game.”
“Of course. I-I have a real fondness for it.”
“As do I.” Straightening, he motioned toward the seat closest to the fire. “Perhaps you will indulge me.”
She blinked at him. “You want me to play? Tonight?”
“If you would be so kind.”
But… what if Mrs. Poulson found her ensconced in the earl’s study with him?
She checked over her shoulder as if the housekeeper might already be watching from the door. “Mrs. Poulson would most assuredly not approve.”
“As if I give a fig about Mrs. Poulson’s approval.”
He didn’t have to care; he didn’t work for her. Rachel almost said as much. But she was afraid that complaining would only make matters worse. If she couldn’t succeed in his household, maybe he would be left with no choice but to sack her. She couldn’t see one reason he wouldn’t.