Rachel felt herself flush. The exchange they’d had in the wee hours made her feel guilty. They’d only touched hands but it had felt like so much more. “He didn’t come to me.” Except to put salve on her hands. She was still amazed by the fact that he’d gone out in the cold in order to gain the remedy, but she didn’t mention it.
Mary’s eyebrows shot up. “Why not?”
“I don’t know what his intentions are,” she admitted.
“But ye’ve been together before. I ’eard all about it. Caused quite an uproar below stairs, it did.”
There wasn’t any point in denying what’d happened. All of Creswell knew of that night. “We were together once,” she admitted. “But… I wasn’t in my right mind.”
“And if he pays ye a visit, ye’ll be out of yer mind again,” she said with a laugh. “So be prepared. A man of ’is age and station doesn’t install a maid in the lady’s quarters for nothin’. ’E obviously wants more.”
Everyone else had to be thinking the same thing. Even Geordie would hear of her new living arrangements. But there wasn’t anything Rachel could do to stop the servants from talking. And she had little choice but to stay where she was. She couldn’t go back into the ranks of service—not here with Mrs. Poulson. She’d barely survived her last stint.
She knotted her hands in her lap. “He claims he does not expect that.”
“Oh, ’e expects it,” Mary said. “An’ ’e’s got a right with what ’e’s doin’ for ye. E’s a fine figure of a man, regardless. I don’t blame ye for liftin’ yer skirts. I’d do it, too, if only ’e’d ask.” She put the tray on a table and started to go out, but Rachel pulled her back.
“Stay for a few minutes. There is plenty here for the both of us.”
Mary hesitated as if she wasn’t convinced she could trust the invitation, but when Rachel gestured again, she smiled a conspirator’s smile and closed the door.
Rachel pulled the tray close, and they ate everything on it as if they hadn’t seen food in weeks. There had been far too little of it.
“I ’ave never been so full in my life. I’m guessin’ that was intended for the earl hisself,” Mary said, rubbing her stomach in satisfaction.
“It’s nice, how the other half lives,” Rachel murmured.
“Aye, but whatever ye do, don’t get used to it.” Mary stood and indicated the elaborate trappings surrounding them. “This won’t last, and it’ll break yer bloody ’eart if ye expect it to. Soon ye’ll be back in the garret with me, or some other garret.”
“I know,” Rachel said, sobering.
Mary seemed to realize she’d just cast a pall over everything, because she smiled again and gave Rachel a quick hug. “But that doesn’t mean ye can’t enjoy it while it lasts, eh? And that goes for what the earl’s got ’tween ’is legs.”
When Rachel covered her mouth, Mary laughed at her scandalized reaction, grabbed the tray and twitched her bottom as she sauntered out.
“Good luck with Mrs. Poulson,” Rachel whispered after her. But she wasn’t really thinking about the housekeeper. She was remembering that night in the earl’s bed, how eager she’d been to join their two bodies, how she’d ached for the completion he promised. There’d been that terrible flash of pain, which had almost mucked it up, but… if he came to her again, would letting him have his way be more enjoyable now that she was no longer a virgin?
Chapter 13
Mrs. Poulson knocked shortly after lunch. Rachel had just bathed and dressed. At the moment, thanks to the earl, the housekeeper could do little to hurt her, but Rachel worried she might attempt to make Geordie’s life miserable.
The older woman frowned in obvious contempt as her gaze traveled down Rachel’s body. “You are finally awake, I see.”
Rachel said nothing as Mrs. Poulson pushed past her.
Once inside, the housekeeper stood in the center of the room and surveyed her surroundings. “You don’t deserve all this.”
“Did you come for a reason?” she asked.
That she would dare respond with a bit of ice in her own voice caused Mrs. Poulson’s eyes to narrow. “Do not think you will be here long. He will toss you out as soon as he is finished using you. And then where will you be?”
“I will no longer be working for you. We can both agree on that,” she countered.
“Once he turns you out, maybe you will be more grateful for honest work. Starvation will humble the most uppity of maids.”
The venom in those words made Rachel shake her head in wonder. “What have I done to make you hate me so?”
She sniffed. “You don’t know your place.”
Could this stem back to the night she’d appeared at Blackmoor Hall, frantic because her mother was dying? Did it bother Mrs. Poulson so much that the earl had overridden her authority when she tried to turn Rachel out?
It was no use trying to talk to such a person. Rachel had never met anyone so spiteful. “What is it you want?” she asked.
“Mr. Cardiff, the dressmaker, is here. Lord Druridge had him summoned from the village.”
Rachel stepped back. “And what does that have to do with me?”
“Apparently you are to have one of Lady Katherine’s gowns.” She’d spoken as if the words tasted bitter on her tongue.
“But there is a needlewoman on staff who is probably capable of making the alterations.”
“Which is what I told him.” She tilted her head back and glared down her blade-like nose. “You must have done your part last night to make him want to be so generous.”
Rachel could have argued that she hadn’t done anything immoral. But why bother? Mrs. Poulson would assume the worst no matter what. And with the thoughts going through her head lately, Rachel wasn’t sure she was innocent enough to expect anything different. She was beginning to feel as if she might be willing to sacrifice her virtue—to sacrifice almost anything—to be part of his life.
“Where is Mr. Cardiff?” she asked.
“In the drawing room. He has asked that you bring your choice of gowns from Lady Katherine’s wardrobe down with you,” she said and stalked out.
She was to pick out a gown? That would only make the other servants more jealous than they probably were. They would all feel as if she were putting on airs. And the villagers…