Meet the Earl at Midnight (Midnight Meetings) by Gina Conkle

he brought home. All and sundry must’ve recognized Lydia wasn’t countess material. Of course they’d be curious belowstairs about what happened in their place of employment.
    “Yes,” she ventured cautiously. “Very impressive. The whole place.”
    “Certainly is from the outside, I mean.” The gray-haired maid took her time rubbing the cheap buckle. “I’ve not had the occasion to be in there much.”
    Miss Lumley could be a potential ally in times of need. Or did the staff charge her with scouting duty on the dark-haired interloper occupying the pink palace? Lydia smiled wider on that score. Give a little, get a little. But how much to divulge? Her ears near twitched from the kitchen gossip she assumed they bantered. In the interest of budding friendship, she tossed out a crumb.
    “The magnification glass was quite interesting, as were some of the plants.” She shrugged and slumped against the settee’s back cushion, curling stocking feet underneath her. “I wasn’t there long enough to learn much.”
    …about his lordship, that is…
    “You were in his lordship’s laboratory longer than Miss Blackwood ever was.” Edith’s voice grumbled, and her rag shimmied across the shoe.
    “Miss Blackwood?” Lydia hugged an ice-pink pillow to her stomach, hoping Miss Lumley would rise to the bait. Her fingers flip-flopped a corner tassel. “She would be…”
    The dancing rag paused. “The lady formerly betrothed to his lordship.” She gave Lydia a pointed look, pursed lips and all.
    “Isn’t she the one the papers say slit her wrists?” Her tassel flipping slowed.
    “Humph! Don’t be fooled. Conniving bit of baggage, she was. More drama in that one than all of Drury Lane, if you ask me.” Edith’s rosy cheeks darkened with a scowl, and her rag picked up speed. “Only wanted parties, she did, and jewels, and Greenwich gold. To think, growing up she chased after Lord Eddie and cried her undying love. That is until…” Edith’s voice faded as she put a hand to her heaving bosom. “I forget myself, miss.”
    Lord Eddie, is it?
    Edith set the shoes on the stone hearth and missed the way Lydia gaped at the familiarity. The maid was so caught up in calming down from her angry flare. Lydia couldn’t imagine the mysterious brigand she met last night as a Lord Eddie . Edith stuffed her rag in an apron pocket and banked the fire before taking her leave.
    “Oh, there is one thing, Miss Lumley.”
    She scooted off the settee and retrieved a list of art supplies sitting on the pristine desk. She’d already made this wish list earlier that morning, anticipating the earl’s support.
    “I discussed this with his lordship, and he bade me give it to you or Miss Mayhew. These are a few things I’ll need.” She folded the paper and passed it to Edith. “Some painting supplies.”
    The maid slipped the paper into her other pocket. “I’ll give this to Miss Mayhew. She’ll take care of it.”
    At the mention of the lovely housekeeper, Lydia opened her mouth to probe. A warning voice inside her head bade her not to dive into that muddle. Not yet.
    “Thank you for taking care of my shoes.”
    “Of course, miss,” Edith said with a wink. “And you hold fast with his lordship. He’s really a good sort, he is.”
    A few tidbits had been dropped at her feet about Lord Eddie, but nothing of true substance. His childhood moniker made her smile at the elegant but austere lady staring down at her. She drummed her fingers on the striped upholstery. Things got very prickly when she asked about the housekeeper.
    Tread carefully there.
    Still, Lydia couldn’t help but be a touch irked. Was he planning to marry her and dally with the housekeeper? Such an arrangement wasn’t unheard of amongst nobility. Did his lordship have a thing for women of the lower classes?
    “Miss Blackwood, a young lady of quality, besmirched. Miss Mayhew, a housekeeper, respected,” she mused. “Just how does one win over the reclusive