He pressed the handle and admitted her to her chambers. With a forced smile, she entered the rooms and closed the door behind her. The hum of quiet filled her ears, blending in blaring cacophony with the steady beat of raindrops upon the crystal windowpanes. Drawing in a shuddery breath, Jane laid her back against the door and shook her head slowly back and forth as a laugh worked its way up her chest. In all her fears of stealing into the marquess’ home and commandeering the role of companion, she’d never once considered that she’d be turned out the moment she arrived. The insurmountable challenge had been orchestrating the travel arrangements and entering the marquess’ home. She’d erroneously assumed that the challenges presented by her plan ended the moment she’d stepped into his room.
Filled with a restive energy, Jane shoved away from the door and took in the opulent space. The Marquess of Waverly’s guest chambers were finer than any of the modest dwellings her illustrious father had set Jane and her mother up in. With tentative steps, she walked over to the vanity. She trailed her fingertips along the mahogany surface and absently picked up the pearl-encrusted brush. The smooth handle was firm and reassuring in her grip. Her gaze snagged upon the bedraggled, rumpled creature in the bevel mirror and she studied herself with a critical eye. With her wrinkled uniform and the flyaway curls that had escaped the tight knot at the base of her neck, was it any wonder she’d been judged and found lacking in a man whose home could surely rival the palaces of most kings? Her lips pulled in a grimace and she set the brush down.
Returning to Mrs. Belden’s was not an option. There was nothing to return to. She removed her spectacles and pinched the bridge of her nose. She’d no sooner plead for her post at Mrs. Belden’s than send ’round a request for assistance from the Duke of Ravenscourt. The Marquess of Waverly, in all his infinite coolness and icy disdain, had ordered her gone. Granted, he’d permitted her the use of his chambers—
A knock sounded at the door.
She stiffened, but then the handle turned and a small army of servants hurried into the room. Jane widened her eyes and shock slapped her as they carried forth an enormous bath. In short order, the contingency of the marquess’ servants filled the porcelain tub with steaming buckets of water and then ducked from the room.
A lone young woman bearing a large silver tray of food entered on the wake of their speedy departure. The woman caught her eye and gave a smile. Another kindly servant. Despite the precariousness of her situation, Jane managed to return a grin.
“I am Cora,” the young lady greeted as she set the tray down on the small secretaire. “Is there anything else you require, Mrs. Munroe?”
“Jane,” she corrected automatically. She was not different than these people. In fact, she’d wager by her dependence upon her father’s assistance in finding employment, she was inferior to any one of the marquess’ servants who attained their posts by merit. “Please, just Jane, and no, there is nothing else I require.” That is unless you have any ability to drum up a miraculous position in a safe household for the next two months.
The woman’s smile widened. “Very well, Jane.” With a slight curtsy, Cora took her leave, closing the door quietly behind her.
Steam poured off the top of the bath and beckoned Jane over. She sank to her knees alongside the porcelain piece and rested her arms along the side. He’d turn her out. He would send her back to Mrs. Belden’s, having judged her worth on a conversation not even fifteen minutes long. Jane skimmed the tip of her fingertips along the smooth surface of the water. Her determined visage reflected back in the shimmering ripples. He believed her spiritless and easily cowed? He thought to send her away in the morn? Well, the ostentatious nobleman would find out tomorrow just how spirited she, in fact, was and then let him try to turn her out.
Chapter 5
Seated behind his office desk, Gabriel consulted the neat, meticulous lines of the open ledger. He dipped the tip of his pen into the crystal inkwell, marked an additional column, and then tossed his pen down. The landholdings had proven far more successful under his careful attention. He rolled his shoulders, even as his lips pulled up in a hard smile. His father would have been pleased. Such a thought was enough to make a man let all that carefully crafted success go hang.