Loving a Cinderella in Disguise (Preview)

Prologue

Bath, 1812

“I think you will be quite happy here, Catherine,” Lord James Abernathy, the Viscount Marlowe, said, smiling kindly down at his niece.

Miss Catherine Abernathy looked up at her uncle, unable to fully smile back. It had been only two weeks since her parents’ deaths, and it had been hard for her to smile at anything. Now, as she sat in the parlor of her uncle’s house, which she had traveled so far to reach, it was difficult to believe him.

How can I be happy anywhere after everything I’ve lost? She didn’t say this out loud; Cate knew she had to be grateful. She was lucky to have an uncle who would take her in. Not every uncle would.

She forced a half-smile to her lips. “Thank you, Uncle James,” she murmured. “It is very kind of you to have me come live with you.”

“Yes, it is,” Uncle James’s wife, Aunt Anne, said, and if Cate had been paying more attention—if she weren’t in a fog of grief so consuming that it was difficult for her to focus on anything—she might have heard the sourness in her aunt’s voice.

“It is the least I could do,” Uncle James said. “After all, now that I’ve inherited your father’s title and estate, there is more than enough money to—”

“There is never more than enough money for anything,” Aunt Anne said, cutting off her husband. “Especially since you have no son of your own, my dear, and now two young ladies that you will need to provide with dowries in a few years, when they are of marriageable age.”

Uncle James frowned at his wife. “Catherine has her own dowry,” he said. “Her father put money aside for her.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound right,” Aunt Anne said. “That money should only be inherited once she is married, so that her husband can manage it for her!”

“Well…”

“We will discuss it later,” Aunt Anne snapped. “At the very least, that money should be going to making sure the estate is profitable. You know how your brother was… He could be quite profligate. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had run the estate into ruin.”

Even in her fog of grief, Cate was shocked by her aunt’s words. Her father had been dead only two weeks, and now his sister-in-law was speaking of him with such disrespect? Cate drew herself up, ready to defend her father, but her uncle cut in.

“That’s quite enough, dear,” he said, glancing nervously from his wife to Cate. “Let us not speak ill of the dead. And my brother was not nearly as profligate as you make him out to be. He was simply—”

“Generous,” Cate said, making both her aunt and uncle look at her. She swallowed and held her head up high. “He gave away money to charities. He never bought things for himself that he didn’t need. He simply wanted to help the poor.”

Her uncle nodded. “That is true,” he murmured.

But Aunt Anne looked angry, and her eyes flashed. “In this household,” she said, “young ladies do not speak until they are spoken to. Now go to your room. Your uncle and I have many things to discuss now that we have another mouth to feed.”

“My dear, is that necessary?” her uncle began, but Aunt Anne gave him a cutting look, and he looked away, embarrassed.

Cate stood up on shaking legs. She still felt motion sick from the long carriage ride, and she didn’t have the energy to argue. Grief had made her exhausted all the time. Anyway, she wanted to be alone.

A maid showed her out of the parlor and up the stairs to the room that would be hers. It was smaller than the one she’d had at her father’s house, and she wondered vaguely if they would return there eventually. It belonged to her uncle now. But moving was a hassle—perhaps he wanted to wait. For now, she was just glad to have a roof over her head.

Even if Aunt Anne does seem rather cruel, she thought dully as she lay down on the bed. I don’t remember her being so harsh when we last met. 

Then again, her father and mother hadn’t spent much time with Uncle James and Aunt Anne. They’d never said anything bad about them, but there had been an understanding that they weren’t close. Now Cate understood why. They probably hadn’t liked to spend time around a woman as ungenerous as Aunt Anne.

At least she had Cousin Diana, she’d thought. The two women were around the same age—surely they would be friends.

But whatever hope Cate had harbored that she and her cousin might strike up a closeness, these were soon dashed. It didn’t take more than a week of living in the house for Cate to realize that her cousin Diana was just as cruel, selfish, and cutting as her mother. She never missed an opportunity to insult Cate’s late parents or to reiterate her mother’s point that Cate was a leech on the family’s finances.

Finances they only have because they inherited it from my father, Cate couldn’t help but think bitterly whenever this was brought up.

But she was outnumbered in the house, and it was difficult to retort the way she wanted to, to stand up for her parents, to fight back. Although Uncle James was kind, it soon became apparent that he was a weak man who wouldn’t stand up to his wife or daughter. He was always good to Cate when it was just the two of them, but whenever Aunt Anne or Diana said something unfair or unkind, his ineffectual attempts to defend Cate would be met with scorn, which soon made him turn away helplessly.

So Cate retreated further into herself. This wasn’t always how things had been. She had been very close to her parents, and before the illness that took both of them, she had talked to them about everything. But now, she had no one, and all her thoughts she poured into her diary, or she whispered to the animals she found in the back garden—rabbits, birds, and even a deer or two that would wander through.

These animals became her friends, and although they couldn’t understand her words, she always felt that they could understand the gentleness in her tone, the connection she longed to have with another creature.

And then the unthinkable happened.

Not a year after she moved into her uncle’s house, he died. And with him, the hope of an ally, the hope of moving back to her father’s house—which was now inherited by a distant cousin—and any hope of finding protection.

“You will need to move out of your room,” Aunt Anne told her just a few days after Uncle James’s funeral. Cate had just come inside from the garden, where she had been refilling the bird feeders, when her aunt met her in the hall, a businesslike tone to her voice.

“W-what?” Cate gaped at her aunt. “But why?”

“We will be turning that room into Diana’s parlor,” her aunt said, her eyes narrowing. “Now that we will no longer be able to move into the viscount’s estate, Diana will need more room.”

“But…” Cate wasn’t sure what to say. She wanted to argue with her aunt, but couldn’t think of a single argument that would sway her. “But then where am I supposed to sleep?”

“You will sleep in the empty room in the guests’ quarters,” her aunt said brusquely.

Cate blinked. That room was tiny, really not fit even for guests. It was unheard of to ask the daughter of a viscount to sleep in such a place.

As if reading her mind, her aunt said, “It’s been a long time since you were the daughter of a viscount. Now you are just the distant cousin of one, and sacrifices must be made.”

“Sacrifices?” Cate repeated. “What does that mean exactly?”

“It means that now that we no longer have the income of the viscount’s estate, we must let go of half our staff.” Aunt Anne sniffed angrily. “We will be very short-handed, so everyone will have to help out more. You will no longer be able to go wherever you want whenever you want. You will have to help out around the house. Is that understood?”

Cate nodded, a hollow feeling filling up her stomach. Of course she wanted to help, and her first thought was for the poor servants, who would now be out of work and a place to stay.

“I will be as helpful as I can be,” she promised.

But it didn’t take long for Cate to realize that while she was expected to help out around the house, to do chores and servant’s work, Diana was never asked to do anything of the sort. Soon, Cate’s old room had been transformed into a parlor, and Cate was doing almost as much work around the house as the scullery maid, while Diana sat in her parlor, practicing the piano forte or covering screens.

And somehow, Cate found herself doing her cousin’s bidding more and more often. It started out subtle at first—a few errands here and there—but then it became more and more. And when Cate tried to complain, to push back, her aunt would explode at her.

“We gave you a home, squandered money on you, and you cannot even repay us for that favor?” she would yell. And then she would assign more tasks for Cate to complete, as punishment.

I’ll just keep my head down, Cate told herself, as things became more and more difficult, her aunt more and more unreasonable. There’s nothing I can do now. Just three more years, and then I’ll be of marriageable age…

That was when she began to count down the days: until she could go to London, find a husband, and escape, once and for all. It didn’t even matter who she married. Anything was better than living as a maid in her aunt’s house.

Chapter One
London, 1816

The day had just broken, the first tendrils of sun coming in through the windows, when Cate stirred and opened her eyes. She’d been having the most wonderful dream. In it, she’d been back in the house where she’d been raised, and her mother had been helping her dress for her wedding day. Although her groom hadn’t been in this dream, Cate had been filled with the knowledge that he was a tall, handsome, clever man, kind and loyal, and that he loved her very much.

“I’m so proud of you, my daughter,” her mother had said, as she helped Cate into her wedding dress. “This is the dress I wore at my wedding, too, and I know your marriage will be as happy as mine was.”

In the dream, Cate had looked down, and indeed, it was her mother’s dress she’d been wearing. Now, as she blinked open her eyes, she felt a warm sense of happiness settle over her whole body. Dreaming of her mother always did that. Dreaming of a better time, of life before her parents had died and she’d had come to live with her relatives.

But now, as the dream faded, so did the feeling of warm contentment. It was the first day of the London Season, which meant Cate had much to do to help prepare Diana for her first appearance at the opening ball.

Groaning, Cate rolled out of bed, stretched, and went to the wash basin, where she scrubbed her face and under her armpits. Then she changed out of her night rail into the simple black dress that she always wore while serving her aunt and cousin. They hadn’t gone so far as to require her to wear a pinafore over the dress and a mop cap—a true sign of servitude—but even the black dress was enough for Cate to know her place in the house.

Once she was dressed, she headed downstairs, where she greeted the other maid—Clara—with a smile. Then the two of them got to work heating the water for Aunt Anne and Diana’s bath. Cook was busy cooking in the kitchen, and soon, the breakfast trays were ready. Cate was able to catch a few moments of rest before the bell to Diana’s room rang.

“Big day today,” Clara said as she poured hot water from the kettle into the teapot Cate would take up to her cousin. “The Weatherton Ball. The official start of the Season!”

“Yes,” Cate said. “And I am sure Diana is very nervous, which means she will probably be nastier than usual.”

Clara giggled. “We will have to tread very lightly.” She paused, tilting her head to one side. “Does that mean you will be attending the ball today, too?”

“No,” Cate said, feeling her throat tighten slightly. “Aunt Anne has said I may have my Season, but she wants to make a first impression this year with just Diana. It’s her fourth Season, after all, and I think she very much wants her to finally find a husband. And I am… less likely to find a good match.”

Clara’s eyes widened. “That is not true at all! Your father was a viscount!”

“He was, many years ago,” Cate said, sighing. “I’m just lucky that Aunt Anne has given me permission to have a Season at all. I was surprised when she said I could attend some of the balls and parties she and Diana are attending. So I don’t want to insist on this ball and put her in a bad mood for the rest of the Season.”

Clara frowned, as if she didn’t think this was generous at all, but before she could say anything, the bell for Diana’s room rang.

“I must go,” Cate said with a wink. “Wish me luck!” She scooped up the breakfast tray and made the long trek up the stairs to her cousin’s room.

When she came in, Diana was already up and sitting in front of her vanity while her lady’s maid got to work on her hair. Aunt Anne had also joined her and was sitting in a chair near the vanity, watching the lady’s maid work with narrowed eyes.

“Ahh, Cate, there you are,” Diana complained when she saw Cate enter. “I rang the bell ages ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Cate said stiffly. “I came as fast as I could.”

“Well, hurry up and give her the tray,” Aunt Anne snapped. “Diana needs all her strength today when she is presented at court.”

Cate bobbed her head and brought the tray over to Diana, depositing it on the vanity in front of her. She poured a cup of tea and handed it to Diana, who gulped it down. However, as she eyed the food, she made a disgusted face.

“I’m not sure I can eat anything, Mama,” she said, glancing at her mother. “I feel queasy.”

“That’s just the nerves,” Aunt Anne said. “Now eat up. It will help you.”

As Diana took a small nibble of toast, Cate turned to her aunt.

“Aunt Anne,” she said in a small, demure tone, which she knew her aunt preferred, “I was wondering if today, while you are out, I might go into town and get myself a dress for the ball on Friday. The Hendersons’ ball you said I may attend.”

“A new dress?” Aunt Anne’s eyes narrowed. “You hardly think we have the budget to buy you a new dress, do you? We have already spent a fortune on your cousin’s dress tonight! There is not a penny left over from that!”

Cate glanced at her cousin’s gown, which was hanging from the screen in front of the clawfoot bathtub. The gown was gorgeous—layers of silk and diamonds—and the height of fashion. Cate hated to covet something as superficial as a dress, but as she looked at it, she felt her heart ache with longing.

Forcing herself to turn back to her aunt, she murmured, “I wouldn’t need anything as beautiful or lavish as Diana’s dress, just something simple that I might wear to the ball so as not to bring down our family name by wearing something too shabby for such a glamorous event.”

Aunt Anne’s lip curled. Cate knew she was torn. On the one hand, she hated the idea of spending money in order to make Cate happy. On the other hand, she did not want to jeopardize Diana’s chances of marrying well by having Cate show up to a ball in the incorrect gown.

At last, she made up her mind. “We don’t have the budget,” she snapped. “You will just have to wear something you already have. And if anyone asks, we will just say that you are Diana’s poor cousin from the country. Which, I hardly need to add, is true!”

She laughed cruelly, as did Diana, and Cate felt her cheeks burn. Swallowing, she forced down her embarrassment and anger and dropped into a small curtsy. “Whatever you say, Aunt Anne.”

***

Back in the kitchen, Clara was livid.

“She’s not bringing you to the opening ball and she isn’t letting you have a new gown?” she fumed. “I cannot believe her! I would quit in protest, if I didn’t desperately need this position.”

“I wouldn’t let you quit,” Cate said, smiling in appreciation at her friend. “Not for my sake.”

“But there must be something we can do!” Clara cried. “Perhaps we could pool our wages and—”

“A gown would cost too much for that,” Cate said, shaking her head. “Anyway, I can’t let you spend your money on me. It wouldn’t be right.”

Clara bit her lip. “I just wish there was something we could do. You can’t show up to a ball wearing one of your work dresses! And your aunt has only ever allowed you to buy morning dresses and a few walking dresses. You have nothing fit to wear!”

“There is something I could do…” Cate said slowly. She had just remembered her dream, and it had given her an idea. An idea that actually excited her, that made her heart hammer with delight. “There is a dress I could use, but I would have to alter it. I’d need new ribbons and lace, and where could I get that?”

“There are scraps left over from Lady Diana’s last fitting that you could use,” Clara said at once. “We have not thrown them out yet. The fabrics were so luxurious, we were all too in awe to get rid of them.”

“That’s perfect,” Cate said. “After they go out today, you get those scraps, and then we will go up to the attic to find the dress.”

“The attic?” Clara looked confused. “What dress would be in the attic?”

Cate smiled. “My mother’s wedding dress.”

***

Very few of Lord Jonathan and Lady Meredith Abernathy’s things had survived the intervening years since they had died. Most of their valuables had been sold off, much to Cate’s consternation. Aunt Anne had justified this by saying she was using the money to pay for Cate’s upkeep, but Cate suspected she had kept the money for herself. Of course, there was no way to prove it.

One of the few things that had never been thrown out, however, was Lady Abernathy’s wedding dress. Cate had insisted upon this, telling her aunt that it would save her money in the long run, as Cate could wear it herself when she married and Aunt Anne wouldn’t need to buy her a new one. Her aunt had scoffed at this and asked if Cate really thought she was beautiful enough to attract a husband, but she had allowed her to keep the dress.

Cate was grateful for this as she made her way down the stairs on Friday, resplendent in her mother’s beautiful gown. She had spent the better part of the week altering it and making it look less like a wedding gown and more like a ballgown. To her surprise, it worked. The dress was old-fashioned, of course, and would be slightly out of style, but it was beautiful, and in it, Cate felt every bit the Society lady that she ought to have been, had her parents not died.

And from the look on Diana’s face, who stood at the bottom of the stairs, her cousin thought so as well.

“Good evening,” Cate said as she joined Diana at the bottom of the stairs. Next to her, Aunt Anne was watching Cate with a hard, cold look. Cate ignored her, smiling at her dumbfounded cousin instead. “You look very well tonight. Are you looking forward to the ball?”

Diana said nothing. She just continued to stare at Cate as if she had never seen her before. Then she turned to her mother and gave her a look that seemed to say, Stop this!

Aunt Anne’s eyes glinted, and Cate thought she saw something evil in them. It made her heart pound with dread.

“What a beautiful dress,” Aunt Anne said, giving Cate a sickly-sweet smile. “I believe I’ve seen it before.”

“Yes, it was my mother’s wedding dress.”

“I was referring to the ribbon and lace that you have used to alter it.”

“Oh… yes,” Cate said, looking down at some of the ribbon that Clara had found for her. “I wanted to make it more appropriate for the ball, so I used some leftover scraps.”

“But those leftovers were not yours to use,” Aunt Anne said, tilting her head to one side. “I paid for them to use in Diana’s gowns. Your using them is therefore tantamount to stealing.”

Cate was so shocked that for a moment, she could think of nothing to say. Then, coming to her senses, she said, “I would never steal from you, Aunt Anne. I only used scraps that were going to be thrown out anyway.”

“No, you stole them!” Diana shouted out of nowhere, making Cate jump. “I recognize that ribbon! It was used in my favorite riding habit! You took it! Give it back to me!”

And to Cate’s shock, her cousin reached out, grabbed the ribbon that had been sewn into the bodice of the dress, and pulled.

With a terrible sound, the dress ripped. Cate gasped and clasped her hands to her chest to hide the petticoat underneath, which was now exposed by the ripped bodice. “What are you doing?” she cried. “You’ve ripped it! My mother’s wedding dress!”

“I wouldn’t have had to rip it if you weren’t a little thief!” Diana shouted back. Her face was red, and her eyes were scrunched up in anger.

“Girls, girls, settle down,” Aunt Anne said smoothly, and when Cate looked at her, she was smiling slightly. Cate felt her blood boil. She wanted to scream. To rip Diana’s dress. To do something. But there was nothing she could do. She was at her aunt’s mercy.

“She tore my dress!” she cried, glaring at her aunt. “She needlessly ruined the dress my mother was married in! Are you really going to let her get away with that?”

“I believe that you were the one who behaved badly tonight,” Aunt Anne said coolly. “You are the one who stole from me and your cousin. Well, it seems you can no longer attend the ball. You certainly cannot come in a ripped dress. In fact, with how you have behaved tonight, I believe you are not ready to have a Season at all. You do not have the maturity to debut in Society.”

“I’m not the one who ripped the dress!” Cate shouted. “And you can’t take away my Season! It is my right to have one. I am the daughter of a viscount.”

“Silence!” Aunt Anne snapped. She had gone very pale, and her mouth was pressed into the thinnest line Cate had ever seen. “I am your guardian and I will decide whether or not you are ready to be out in Society. If you argue with me, then I will sell off this dress and the rest of your parents’ things. Do you understand me?”

Cate was speechless. The injustice of it was so infuriating that she felt tears spring to her eyes. She wanted to cry and rage all at the same time. After all these years being her aunt’s servant, she had thought this year she would finally meet someone, marry, and escape. She had thought she would finally be free…

“Do you understand me?” her aunt repeated and, lifelessly, Cate nodded. There was nothing she could say, even if speech hadn’t eluded her. Aunt Anne controlled her entire life.

Slowly, Cate turned and walked back up the stairs. It wasn’t until she was back in her room that she let her tears flow. All the sadness, loneliness, and anger of the past few years hit her, and she wept.

But even in her tears, she felt something erupt in her chest: a determination that she had never felt before. Her aunt might have tried to squash all rebellion from her, but it wasn’t going to work. One way or another, Cate was going to get out from under her yoke.

She wasn’t going to be her aunt’s servant any longer.

Chapter Two

Lord Benedict Blackwood had nowhere to go, but he still wanted to walk. In fact, walking aimlessly felt like the only thing that was giving him any solace these days. It was too hard to be at home, with his father’s deteriorating condition, his mother’s endless grief, and his brother’s calm, detached authority. Of course, every time he left the house, Ben felt guilty, but he had to get out.

Everyone was just trying to deal with their grief in their own way. His mother had always been prone to hysterics and strong emotions. And David seemed to think showing any emotion would make him unworthy of the dukedom he was set to inherit. That was just how things were. And as much as Ben loved his family, right now, he needed a moment alone to get away from the sadness.

The Duke of Pennington, Ben’s father, had been deteriorating for years. It had begun with the accident years ago, when he’d been flung from his horse. He’d hit his head, and ever since, he hadn’t been able to get back to his full strength.

Watching his proud, strong father become an invalid had not been easy, but Ben had tried to make the best of it. He’d decided not to serve in the military but instead spend as much time as home with his family, reading to his father, playing backgammon with his mother, and helping David run the estate—which their father had found increasingly difficult as his condition worsened. Ben had never regretted any of that for a moment. But it didn’t mean it would be easy to watch his father die.

How can he really die? he wondered as he turned left at an intersection, not really considering where he was going. The direction and destination were unimportant. It just mattered that he was walking. How does a person’s existence just get snuffed out? His mother told him to pray, that it would comfort him. But so far, Ben hadn’t found it very comforting.

He stopped for a moment on the street, glancing around, and realized he wasn’t exactly sure where he was. It had been a while since he’d been in London. They’d come for the Season, and already Ben thought it was a mistake. The duke was too tired and ill to attend any events, although he’d insisted they come to “maintain social obligations.”

Ben knew he should be attending balls and parties looking for a wife, but it was hard to focus on finding a wife when his father was dying.

As he looked around, he saw a young woman walking toward him down the street, her expression clouded as if she were lost in thought. She appeared to be a servant by the simple dress that she wore, but she was very pretty—much prettier than most of the servants he knew—with a small frame, dark hair, and mysterious dark eyes. In fact, Ben had never seen someone quite so beautiful, with such a dark and alluring beauty, and, despite the fact his thoughts were so preoccupied with death, he felt his heart beat a little faster.

Nor was it just her beauty that arrested him. It was the look on her face. It was sad and contemplative, and as he watched her, he felt a flicker of recognition. This was someone else who knew what it felt like to carry the weight of grief. He felt sure of it.

The girl passed two street urchins who were sitting together with their hands stretched out, begging. As she passed, she paused, reached into the bag she wore around her shoulder, and took out two currant buns. Smiling at the children, she handed them the buns. The children looked surprised, then took them gratefully. For a few moments, she spoke to them, and they responded with what looked like eagerness. Ben wondered what she was saying to them. It wasn’t often he saw servants—who already had so little themselves—give away food to the poor. He had to admire it.

At last, the two children scampered away, and the woman smiled, then turned and went to cross the street. However, she must have still been lost in thought, because she didn’t bother to look before she stepped out into the road.

Ben looked for her, and his heart nearly stopped: racing toward the young lady was a phaeton. And from the frenzied and urgent look of the driver, who was urging the horses on with a whip, he hadn’t seen the young woman. That, or he didn’t care. His phaeton was headed straight for her. She was going to be run over.

Ben acted without thinking. With a speed he didn’t know he had, he leaped forward, into the street. “Watch out!” he shouted, as he grabbed the woman’s arm. With all his strength, he yanked her out of the way, and the two of them tumbled sideways, onto the sidewalk, just as the phaeton hurtled by—precisely where the woman had been standing just seconds before.

***

Cate was bewildered. One moment, she had been walking along, lost in thought. The next, she was hurtling through the air, then hitting the ground hard, her basket flying from her grasp. She had no idea what was happening or even which way was up and which was down. All she knew was that she was now lying on her back, in what appeared to be mud, staring up at the sky.

There was a loud clattering nearby, and she turned her head just in time to see a phaeton rush by, its horses galloping quickly and its driver laughing in a wild, maniacal way. Her eyes narrowed. I must have nearly been run over! But then who had saved her? And why?

She didn’t have much time to consider this, though, as she was more concerned with finding the basket. She had been sent out this morning to get Diana’s favorite currant buns. With the little bit of extra money that she had been able to save from selling some of her stitching, Cate had even been able to buy two for herself—although she had given them to a pair of urchin children instead and now was very hungry.

None of that mattered, however, compared to making sure she got the buns home to Diana in one piece. If she didn’t, there would be even more chores for her, and Cate wasn’t sure she could stand any more chores.

Not when she was already so angry at her aunt for keeping her away from her first Season.

Cate was so lost in thought about all of this that she almost didn’t notice the hand that had suddenly appeared in front of her. After a moment, she blinked and looked up. The hand belonged to a man who was smiling tentatively down at her as he held out his hand to help her up. And not just any man. This gentleman was very handsome, with light brown hair, hazel eyes that seemed to sparkle with curiosity, and a strong jaw and prominent cheekbones.

But it wasn’t even the handsomeness that intrigued Cate the most. It was the fact that he also appeared to be covered in mud. His face was streaked with it, and she realized, as she gazed up at him, that he must have been her rescuer.

Suddenly, it all struck her as very funny. This man was dressed in the finest clothes she’d ever seen, which meant he was an aristocrat, and now, thanks to her clumsiness and foolishness, he looked like a farmhand. She should have been mortified, but instead, she found it amusing. To her surprise, she began to laugh. It had been a very long time since she had laughed like this, with her sides actually beginning to ache, and the feeling was so delicious that she wished it could never stop.

The man’s smile widened, and then he was laughing as well. They remained with their eyes fixed on each other, laughing, until at last the laughter died away, and they were left smiling at one another.

“May I help you up?” he asked at last, moving his hand closer.

“Yes, thank you,” she said, a little breathlessly, and she took his hand and let her help her to her feet. Once she was on her feet, she dusted down her gown, although it was to no avail—the dress was covered in mud.

“I’m afraid that’s ruined,” he said, grinning at her. “One of the hazards of walking out in front of phaetons, I’m afraid.”

“Is that what I did?” She shook her head. “I promise you, I don’t usually walk around London so carelessly. My mind was elsewhere. I am so grateful to you for rescuing me.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said, bowing. “I haven’t been able to act the hero in some time, and it was a refreshing change of pace.”

She laughed, blushing slightly. No man had ever called himself her hero before.

“Nor do I usually play the part of the damsel in distress,” she admitted. “Usually I’m the one rescuing others.”

“Well, perhaps you can play the part a bit longer,” the man said, “and allow me to escort you to my home. It is just several blocks away. My servants can help you change out of that dress and give you a new one.”

“Oh… I don’t know,” Cate said, her heart hiccuping slightly. I can’t go to a strange man’s house! Can I? “I really ought to be getting back.”

“You can’t go home looking like that,” he said, tilting his head to one side. “And I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I allowed it. Please, come to my home. My mother and sister are there. And it’s very near. Then we can get you all sorted and sent on your way.”

Cate hesitated. On the one hand, she didn’t know this man. On the other, he was clearly a gentleman. That much was clear from his accent. And she really couldn’t go home covered in mud. If she did, her aunt would be furious at her for ruining her dress and potentially the family reputation by walking around London covered in mud.

And to her surprise, she felt comfortable around this gentleman. He didn’t seem untrustworthy. He’d risked his life to save her, after all.

Before she could make up her mind, he added, “And of course, you must take lunch with us. You look very pale—I am assuming you have not eaten yet this morning?”

She had not, in fact, eaten this morning. She’d been too busy with chores. At that very moment, her stomach rumbled, and she blushed, smiling up at him shyly. “Thank you very much, my lord. I would be much obliged.”

He smiled with delight, then offered her his arm. She took it, along with the basket, which mercifully had not spilled its contents, and they began to walk back along the street in the direction she had been going toward. She wondered, as she looked around, what they looked like: a gentleman walking arm in arm with a girl in simple, common clothing. Her cheeks heated. I may be a lady, but he doesn’t know that, and he risks his reputation to walk with me like this. 

He either didn’t care or didn’t know. Either way, she wasn’t sure she admired him or if she found him a little daft.

“My name is Lord Benedict Blackwood,” he said pleasantly as they strolled along together. “What is yours?”

Cate hesitated. She could give her full name, but she was embarrassed to admit she was an aristocrat by birth when she was dressed and behaving like a servant. It would lead to all sorts of intrusive questions about why she was dressed like a maid and fetching buns in the morning.

She swallowed. A half-truth would have to do. “My name is Cate,” she said. He waited, as if expecting her to offer a second name. When she didn’t, he nodded.

“Very nice to meet you, Cate,” he said. “And do you live in London?”

“Not usually. I am here for the Season with my…” She couldn’t say aunt and cousin. “With my employer,” she finished. “I am a lady’s maid.”

He nodded as if this didn’t surprise or bother him, which did surprise her. She had expected him to drop her arm the moment she said this. But he didn’t; he continued to support her as they walked along together.

To her right, she noticed, along a low wall, several pamphlets had been printed with the name of The Beggar’s Opera, which she saw, to her delight and disappointment, would be playing at Covent Garden over the next few weeks. If only I was having a Season, she thought bitterly. I might have been able to persuade Aunt Anne to attend. 

Lord Blackwood saw where was looking and eyed her. “Do you like the theater?” he asked.

“I love the theater,” she said at once, lighting up. “I used to go with my parents, but I never got to see The Beggar’s Opera. They saw it once without me and told me it was their favorite lyric opera.”

If Lord Blackwood was surprised that a lady’s maid knew so much about lyric opera, he didn’t show it. He simply smiled at her. “Then you should go! I will be going with my family in a few nights. If you can, you should come with us. We have a box.”

Cate eyed him with interest. It wasn’t many lords who would invite a lady’s maid to attend a play in his private box. “Thank you,” she said after a moment, “but I’m afraid I won’t be able to attend. I will no longer be in London then. I must return to Bath.”

Lord Blackwood frowned at her. “But aren’t you here for the Season with your employer?”

“Well, I was,” she said, thinking quickly, “but it seems that she is not enjoying London and wishes to return to Bath.”

The truth was that Aunt Anne was sending her back to Bath now that she wasn’t to have her Season. Cate had been a bit surprised by the news. She’d expected her aunt to keep her in town to try and humiliate her at every opportunity, but Aunt Anne had surprised her and told her she must return home. Truthfully, Cate preferred this than to be in London watching Diana have the Season she, Cate, had wished she’d had.

“Oh, I see,” he said, although he didn’t look entirely convinced. “Well, if you do stay in London, I would be very happy for you to join us.”

A few moments later, they arrived outside a large manor house—one of the largest and grandest that Cate had ever seen, and she was the daughter of a viscount. Lord Blackwood smiled at her.

“Here we are!” he said cheerily. “Let us go inside and the servants will take care of you. After you have freshened up, please do join me in the parlor for tea and luncheon.”

“Thank you,” Cate said. She couldn’t quite believe all of this was happening. Seconds later, she had been ushered inside of the grand house and was staring up at the cavernous ceiling, which had been painted with frescoes of what appeared to be Greek myths. The whole place was decorated with the finest sculptures and paintings she had ever seen, and the bannister was inlaid with gold leaf. The floor of the hall was marble, and everywhere she looked she could see the wealth of her rescuer’s family on proud display.

She felt slightly dizzy as the butler escorted her upstairs to the guests’ quarter, where a maid helped her out of her muddy clothes, then into a bathtub, which was filled with warm, soapy water that smelled better than anything Cate had smelled in her life.

“It’s lavender,” the maid said, when she saw Cate’s expression. “It’s the duke’s favorite.”

“The duke?” Cate felt her face blanch. “Lord Blackwood is a duke?”

The maid giggled and shook her head. “Lord Blackwood is the duke’s second son,” she explained. “This is the residence of the Duke of Pennington. He is gravely ill, and he and his wife are accompanied by their eldest son, the Earl of Ravencrest, his wife the Countess, their two small children, and Lord Blackwood. The family is in town for the Season despite the duke’s illness.”

“Oh,” Cate managed weakly. She couldn’t quite think of what to say. She couldn’t believe she had stumbled upon the family of a duke all by walking out in front of a phaeton. How wonderful it would be to marry a man like him, she thought briefly as she considered Lord Blackwood.

But he was the son of a duke… and what was she? The daughter of a viscount now reduced to a maid? There was no way he would ever consider her as a bride.

Pushing this thought aside, she asked, “What is wrong with the duke? What kind of illness does he have?”

“No one is quite sure,” the maid said sadly. “It began years ago when he fell from a horse. Over the years, he has slowly faded away. It has been very hard on the family. They are all close, and the duke is beloved by his family and friends alike. He is a pillar of the community, and with his passing…” the maid trailed off, her eyes misting with tears.

“I am very sorry to hear that,” Cate said gently. “It is moving to see a servant care so much about her employer. That is not always the case.”

The maid gave her a small smile. “He is the best employer a servant could hope for.”

Cate wasn’t surprised, considering the generosity and kindness of his son. She felt her heart go out to Lord Blackwood. With it, all thought of trying to marry him disappeared. She felt for him now, and she wouldn’t like to use him simply to escape her terrible family.

Once she was bathed, the maid, whose name was Sally, put her in a clean, simple morning dress and did up her hair. Cate felt embarrassed as she sat in front of the mirror, watching Sally twist her hair into an elegant bun. It had been a long time since she’d been the one to sit in front of the vanity, having her hair done, instead of being the one to do up the hair.

“Thank you,” she said, as Sally put the final touches on her hair. “You are very talented at that.”

Sally gave her a small smile. “You’re very welcome, milady.”

Milady. The word sent a shudder through Cate. Had Sally really mistaken her for a lady? She had thought that Lord Blackwood would have told the staff she was a lady’s maid. But as she looked around the room, she realized she wasn’t in the servants’ quarters; she was upstairs in a guest room.

Which meant…

Which meant that Lord Blackwood was either kinder than seemed humanly possible, or he didn’t believe she was a servant. Either way, it made her nervous.

“Shall I show you to the parlor now?” Sally asked. “Lord Blackwood said you are to have tea with him there.”

“Yes, thank you,” Cate said, swallowing her worries as she followed the maid out of the room and downstairs to the parlor. It was a large room, elegantly furnished like the rest of the house, and empty. Lord Blackwood was not there yet. Sally curtsied to her and left, and Cate sat down on one of the settees and looked around.

You don’t belong here, a voice whispered in her head. It sounded suspiciously like her aunt’s. You are nothing but a servant. 

It wasn’t technically true, but as Cate stared around at the ornate room, she had never felt it more acutely—that she was no longer the viscount’s daughter. Life as her aunt’s servant had beaten her down until she no longer recognized herself. How was she now supposed to behave like a lady in front of a duke’s son? She would surely just embarrass herself. Then Lord Blackwood would regret his kindness to her.

Panic seized her. She needed to leave. Now. She was already very late to return home with the currant buns. Even if she lied and said the bakery opened late, her aunt wouldn’t believe her. And she’d be returning home in a new dress.

But no matter what, she couldn’t stay here. Rising, Cate went to the desk in the corner, where she saw a quill, ink, and some paper. Hastily, she wrote a note to Lord Blackwood, thanking him for everything and promising to return the dress soon. She left the note on the table in the middle of the room, then slipped from the room.

It was easy for her to tiptoe across the hall and out of the house without being noticed. Over the past four years, Cate had perfected moving through a house without being noticed. In other words, she had turned herself into a servant.