Blast it—she left him no choice. His reluctant decision made, Avery laid the cloth back in the basin. “Be quick about it then. You must attend the evening meal.”
He could not miss the self-satisfied gleam in her eyes as she stood. “Good. Sit down on the bed there.”
He followed her instructions, his already sore muscles tight with apprehension. “This is very improper.”
“Oh stop. I’m a servant, so nobody can give a crap about my reputation.”
“In this household, even the servants are held to an impossible standard. And are you not a servant who has designs on a duke?” He tossed the bitter question over his shoulder and gave a hiss of pain when she probed at his rib cage.
“Yeah. But still. This will only take a minute.” She stood upright, frowning at his rapidly darkening side. “I think you’ve got a broken rib. We’ll need to wrap that up.”
He did not disagree.
Her touch was tender on his wounds, soft and gentle as she cleansed the blood from his skin and bound his aching sides. He found himself relaxing under her ministrations, despite his better judgment. When he’d been bandaged and cleansed to her satisfaction, she cleared her throat.
“So you didn’t say. How did this happen?”
Her question hung in the air, heavy and dark in its innocence. His teeth nearly drew blood from the inside of his cheek. She couldn’t know about his past. She’d hate him like the rest of the servants, and God help him, he could not face that derision coming from her. She was nearly a complete stranger to him, but she’d been so kind. The dark world of the boxing mills and his past was no place for a beautiful creature like her.
“Avery?”
He sighed.
“It is not a tale for a lady’s ears, and it does not signify in any case.”
“But…”
He stopped her with a hand in the air. “It does not signify. But have a care, miss.” He turned to her. “Men are not always what they seem.”
Leah swallowed hard, trying not to let her confusion show on her face. What could he mean by such a cryptic warning? Men are not always what they seem? Was Avery some kind of criminal or something? Had he been injured while doing something illegal?
“Well,” she said, looking down at the basin of water to avoid the seriousness of his hazel gaze, “I’ll remember that.”
With confusion stirring in her brain, she turned to leave the room.
“Miss?”
Her heart fluttered with something odd when she turned to look at his shirtless form again. Even his bruises and bandages couldn’t detract from the muscled beauty of his masculine form, but a half-naked Avery facing her was truly a sight to behold. His arms and chest were lined with muscle, nicely defined with a sprinkling of hair across his chest and thickening in a line down his belly, disappearing into his high-waisted breeches. But his eyes were as serious as the grave.
“Think on what I’ve said.”
Leah nodded, trying to swallow, but her throat had gone dry. “I will,” she rasped.
The door clicked shut behind her. His words dogged her steps as she made her way from the attic down to the servants’ hall. What the hell did he mean? Was he trying to warn her away? But why? She didn’t even know him that well, and she certainly wasn’t here after him.
Leah laughed to herself as she skipped the last step to hop on the landing. It made sense. Of course he’d been concerned about propriety. Leah shook her head with a smile and hustled for the servants’ hall. She didn’t regret helping him at all, but she was grateful for the reminder. This place and time was different than what she was used to, and any tiny misstep on her part could have grave consequences. She’d be more careful.
“I trust,” Mrs. Harper said when Leah entered the room, “that this tardiness of yours is not a habit, Miss Ramsey. No matter your relation to Cook, I shall expect the courtesy of your prompt attendance at mealtimes and whenever your services are required.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Leah said, hanging her head in what she hoped was an accurate portrayal of a chastened, meek parlor maid. “Henrietta was kind enough to show me the conservatory, and I lost track of time. It won’t happen again, ma’am. Oh, and His Grace is dining at the club tonight, Cook.”
After bobbing an apologetic curtsy, Leah slid into the chair beside Henrietta and smiled sweetly. The girl glared at her, obviously piqued that her scheme hadn’t made Leah completely miss the meal.
Cook gave Leah a tight nod as she plopped a bowl of watery soup in front of her, along with a hunk of coarse brown bread. “There, lassie. You’ll be needin’ your strength now. You’ve much to learn and do tomorrow.”
Leah murmured a polite agreement as she tore off a hunk of bread and chewed it slowly. Ugh. Dry and tough. Scanning the rest of the table’s occupants, she took note of how they ate their soup. Mrs. Harper took tiny sips, perching on the very edge of her chair with her spine straighter than a yardstick. Cook hunched over her bowl, her lips pursed as she poured in the broth. Various footmen and a hawk-nosed man that Leah presumed was the butler ate with typical male gusto, refined as it was by the niceties of aping gentility. Henrietta and the rest of the maids chatted between sips and giggled like the young girls many of them were.
Satisfied that she wouldn’t stick out too much, Leah soaked bites of bread in her soup and ate the bland broth without complaining. This was way too important to screw up.
Dinner was filling, if a little unsatisfying. Leah smiled at the maid who took her empty bowl. The thin girl didn’t smile back. Sliding her damp palms down her skirt, Leah watched as the rest of the staff separated into groups. Where would she fit in here? Best to hang back and see.
The maids gathered in a corner around Henrietta, baskets of mending at their feet. They turned their backs to the room, eyeing Leah with mistrust from some and complete dislike from others. Leah sighed. It wasn’t going to be easy to become one of the girls, apparently.
The off-duty footmen laughed as they shuffled a deck of cards. Leah stood, uncertainty holding her back. She knew better than to ask them to deal her in. She probably wouldn’t know the game they were playing, and she didn’t want the maids to think she was making a bid for the only male attention to be had. That would make things even worse, she was fairly sure.
So instead, she took a seat beside Cook and listened to the woman wax eloquent on the ways to prepare a leg of mutton. After an hour, she’d heard more than she ever wanted to know about sheep butchery. When the lady finally fell quiet, a smile pinned firmly to her lips at her own culinary genius, Leah saw her opening and jumped for it.
“Cook, why didn’t Mr. Russell come to dinner this evening?” Whoa. Not what she’d intended to say at all, but her curiosity about the valet had momentarily preempted her mission to snare the duke.
Cook’s smile slipped and she folded her hands primly in her lap. “I’m sure I don’t know.”
“Doesn’t he normally eat with the rest of the staff?”
“Child, you’ll do well to keep clear of Mr. Russell.”
Confusion and offended loyalty for her new friend bubbled in Leah’s chest. “But I thought you liked him. He seems really nice. What do you mean, I should avoid him?”
Cook stood and grabbed Leah by the hand, dragging her into the darkened kitchen. Her voice was a sibilant hiss in the dim room. “Mind your tone with me, miss. I’ve put me own position on the line by begging for yours, so you’ll keep a rein on your tongue or you’ll be out on the street. Mr. Russell prefers to be alone, and that’s all there is to it. Do not speak with him; do not seek him out. I cannot be any plainer.”