The Virgin in the Rake’s Bed by Ava MacAdams
Chapter Two
“Imade an utter fool of myself!” Emily mumbled into a steadying glass of elderflower cordial, fetched by Johanna. “The Dowager Duchess will be furious with me, and she’ll be wondering where I am.”
Nora patted her gently on the back. “I’m sure the Dowager Duchess saw everything in the ballroom, Emily. She’ll know exactly where you are, and if she’s got any harsh words to say about it, she can say them to me.”
The three women were sitting on the front steps of Hudson Manor, looking out over the expansive green lawns. A reflecting pool shone to the right, with a statue of Poseidon in the center—the muscular figure blowing a conch to call his watery warriors to his cause.
Emily lamented silently.
I ought to throw myself in it, though I’d probably fail at drowning, too.
She turned to Johanna and Nora. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
At nine-and-ten, her two friends were much older and much finer than she was, but they never made her feel as though she was out of place. It was the likes of Augusta, the Dowager Duchess, and her grandson, Kenneth, who cared to remind her of her lowly status.
If only they knew… They would fear me, if they had any idea what I’m capable of.
“Nonsense,” Johanna replied. “You have been with the Dowager Duchess for a mere matter of weeks. There is always a period of adjustment to be made, and I think you are doing rather well.”
Nora nodded. “The Dowager seems like an old crone, but she’s softer than she seems. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have agreed to have you as her abigail.” She smiled down at Emily. “Though she’ll always have more demands than a field marshal. It’s the way of the wealthy, and they get worse as they get older.”
“You’re not like that.” Emily dragged a damp cloth across her sticky arms, but the cloying tackiness of her embarrassment would linger far longer.
“No, but you know why—the two of us didn’t come from riches.” Nora lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And I had my fun, making the wealthy gentlemen of the ton pay for their antics. But that’s another thing about high society—they’ve got short memories when it comes to their own transgressions.”
Emily mustered a smile. “I don’t think they’ve forgotten. I can still see some of the gentlemen watching you warily, like you might expose them at any moment.”
It was one of the reasons she admired Nora so much, for she would not have minded teaching high society a lesson. Namely, that just because they had money and comfort, that did not make them invulnerable.
“And I’d remind them that they were the ones exposing themselves,” Nora quipped, turning Emily’s nervous smile into a laugh.
I envy you, Nora. You didn’t have an easy life, but it turned out well. I hope that’ll be the same for me… and you’ll help me gain that.
She only wished she could gain their aid without any subterfuge, but that was not the life she lived. No matter how guilty it made her feel, at times.
After another ten minutes spent in the serenity of the night air, with the swell of music drifting out across the lawns, Emily finally felt ready to go back inside and face her new employer.
“Do you think the Dowager will beat me?” Emily asked, getting to her feet. Her clothes, borrowed from Johanna in an attempt to make her look more proper, stank of soured champagne.
Johanna shook her head. “I never would have encouraged you into this position if I thought I was handing you over to a monster. The Dowager is firm but fair, so she might have some… criticisms, but she will not strike you.”
“Nor could she, even if she wanted to,” Nora added. “Her arms are like feeble twigs.”
Emily paused, just before entering the manor again. “Thank you for using both your influences to get the Dowager to agree. I know I don’t seem so eager right now, but I really am glad of the position. It’s a huge stepping stone for me.”
Bigger than you know…
“Think nothing of it.” Nora wafted a dismissive hand. “We’ve been friends for many years, now. Friends help each other, and I’m proud of you for reaching higher. I know Mrs. Roberts is, too.”
Emily bowed her head, thinking of the owner of the Roberts Orphanage and hoping Nora was right. That woman had been a surrogate mother to Emily, and there was nothing Emily would not do for her. Nothing.
With nothing more to say, Emily retreated into the manor, looking for the Dowager Duchess. And with Nora and Johanna behind her, she felt somewhat comforted, for the two of them were a fearsome pair. The Dowager could hurl any criticisms she liked, but she would certainly not dare to get rid of Emily, thanks to her powerful friends.
* * *
“Child, would you be a dear and fetch my silk handkerchief from my chambers?” the Dowager commanded, in a tone that only sounded sweet.
Emily had run back and forth like a headless chicken for the better part of two hours, tending to the old woman’s every whim and request. It felt a lot like punishment for the mayhem she had caused earlier, disguised as requests.
Isn’t it time you were going to bed, Dowager? I know this is your ball, but… my goodness, when will you tire?
“Of course.” Emily curtseyed, her legs aching from the running she had been doing. At the orphanage, the work had been far harder, but it was the sheer distance of all these hallways and corridors and passages that was taking a toll on her muscles.
The Dowager pursed her crinkled lips. “I have told you, time and again, Child, that it is impolite not to use honorifics. You refer to me as, ‘Your Grace.’ You are not in measly company now. You really must learn these things—try again.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Emily repeated, while struggling to swallow the note of irritation in her voice. The Dowager, though hard of hearing when she chose to be, could hear insolence a mile away.
Apparently satisfied, the Dowager smiled. “Very good, now go quickly or I shall no longer have any need for the handkerchief!”
Oh, this is definitely a punishment.
After all, since the old woman had only been able to give a restrained scolding, with Nora and Johanna present, she had clearly thought up a more creative way to make Emily pay for her mistake. What the Dowager did not know, however, was that Emily was making a note of every command, every chastising, every cold word, every insult, every slur… and the bill the Dowager would have to pay would be much larger.
Hurrying away, Emily slowed as she reached the grand foyer of the manor. A few guests were lounging upon chaises, or admiring the oil paintings, or swaying drunkenly as they waited for their carriages. Emily skirted past them all, and headed up the sweeping, curved staircase to the upper floor.
She was halfway along the corridor, out of sight of the revelers below, when a towering shape lunged out of a shadowed recess… and dragged her into it. Before she had the chance to yelp in fright, or call for help, a hand clamped over her mouth and a voice whispered coldly in her ear, “Be quiet, if you know what’s good for you.”
