household. Sweep up these stairs at once.” With a
disdainful sniff, Mrs. Harper disappeared into the kitchens.
Longingly eyeing the door Henrietta had disappeared
into, Leah trudged down the ashy stairs. Her morning had
started out so promising, with that delicious ducal smile.
How had it plummeted into drudgery so damn fast?
Watching her heroes in movies was proving to be
much easier than trying to win one in real life.
Grabbing a broom from the kitchen cupboard, Leah
returned and started sweeping up Henrietta’s mess. The
repetitive motions gave her more than enough time to
think about home.
Pawpaw had been so insistent that she find her
guy and get married. What was his game? Rounding
up a largish pile of ash, she bit her lip and recounted
all the doctor visits he’d had in the past year. There
weren’t many, certainly not enough to cause her to
be concerned.
So why was he so adamant that she not be alone?
What did he know that Leah didn’t?
With the ashes returned to the bucket, and Leah
sweaty, tired, and confused, she dumped them into the
bin and headed back upstairs to finish the duke’s dressing
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87
room. She’d have plenty of time to try to analyze
Pawpaw when she got back. And if things kept going as
well as they had been, she might just give up and dive
through the mirror tomorrow. God, that made her sound
like a damn weenie. She stiffened her spine. She’d never
met a challenge she intended to back down from, and
this wouldn’t be the one to take her down.
“Ramsey?”
Damn it, she was really getting fucking tired of that
Q- tip’s haughty way of saying her name. Leah stopped
on the third stair and turned. “Yes, Mrs. Harper?”
“The dowager duchess is hosting a rout tomorrow
evening. You will help serve.” The old bat didn’t
look happy about it, but she delivered the order with
aplomb anyway.
Leah nodded politely. “Yes, ma’am.”
A thread of interest wound through Leah as she
continued mounting the stairs. Serve at a real duchess’s
party? See the glittering lords and ladies of the ton ?
When the realization slammed through her, she
missed a step. Clutching at the banister to prevent a fall,
she gasped.
The dowager. The duke’s mother. Holy crap, the
woman must have danced with Methuselah. How was
she still alive?
Leah righted herself and rounded the landing. Maybe
she’d been wrong about the duke’s age. If his mother was
alive, then he had to be fairly young, right? Maybe he
had one of those aging diseases that made you look a lot
older than you were.
She entered the dressing room and started sweeping.
She had to be careful, but this could be a very good
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88
Gina Lamm
opportunity to impress the duke and learn more about
him. This could work.
Maybe her fairy tale would have a happy ending
after all.
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Ten
Breakfast was a long and tiring three hours later.
Cook set a bowl in front of Leah without a word.
Apparently breakfast was lukewarm oatmeal- like gruel.
Leah poked at the gelatinous mass with her spoon. It
jiggled alarmingly, reminding Leah of that old B horror
movie about the blob. The Oatmeal that Ate London! Run for your lives!
“Oh boy,” she said beneath her breath. Clearly she
hadn’t gotten enough sleep.
“Ramsey, is the food not to your liking?” The
housekeeper’s brows had climbed to her hairline. The
other maids had filled in the empty seats around Leah,
and Henrietta especially looked pleased at Mrs. Harper’s
attitude. The little viper was really getting under Leah’s
skin. She’d have to think about how to get back at her
for the ash bucket. That had been a prank worthy of
Leah’s best retaliation.
“No, no,” Leah laughed uncomfortably. “It looks
delicious.” She took a big bite and nearly gagged at
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