CHAPTER 20

He knew that he should feel glad, but his heart felt like the desert that Clara had so accurately described.

“MISS DAVENCOURT? Miss Davencourt!” Clara was heading for the front door, hampered by the fact that she was blinded by tears. She tripped over the edge of Persian rug, grabbed a table for support and almost toppled the priceless vase that rested on it.

“Miss Davencourt!”

Her arm was caught in a reassuring grip and she found herself looking into the face of Perch, the butler. She noticed, irrelevantly, what kind eyes he had. Then she also noticed that the door to the servants stair was open and a row of anxious faces was peering at her from the gloom. Her curiosity was sufficient to overcome her misery for a moment.

“What on earth is going on?”

Perch steered her discreetly into the dining room, and the other servants trooped in silently. In the gothic shadowy darkness they lined up in front of her, candlesticks in hand, their expressions a mixture of hope and concern. Clara looked to the butler for enlightenment.

“Begging your pardon, Miss Davencourt,” Perch said, “but we were thinking that you might have persuaded his grace...” He studied her face for a moment, shook his head and sighed.” No matter. Shall I procure you a cab to take you home, Miss?”

The other servants gave a murmur of protest. It was clear they did not wish to let her go so easily without telling her their concerns.

“We thought you were to be the new Duchess of Fleet, ma’am,” one of the housemaids, a girl with a round red face, said. “That’s what Mr. Perch is trying to say. His grace had been sweet on you for as long as I’ve worked here.”

Clara felt a rush of misery. She looked at their anxious faces and managed to raise a rueful smile. “Thank you, but I’m afraid I shall not be the next duchess.”

“His grace must be mad,” the hall boy whispered, rolling his eyes expressively. Perch shot him a warning look.

“We are very sorry to hear that, ma’am,” he said “We should have liked it very much.”

Clara’s desolate heart thawed a little. She looked at them all properly for the first time, from the brawny under-gardener to the smallest scullery maid and realized how extraordinary it was that they had all pinned their hopes on her. “I had forgotten,” she said “The duke is to leave on the morrow, is he not? Are you— she hesitated “—will he be closing the house?”

A row of doleful nods was her answer.

”We are looking for new positions, ma’am. All except Mr. Dawson, his grace’s valet. He travels abroad with his grace.”

So, most all of them would be out of work as soon as Fleet left for the continent, Clara thought. It was another consequence of his departure and one she had not even considered. She felt horribly guilty.

“I am sorry,” she said.

“Not your fault, ma’am,” one of the footmen said stalwartly. “His grace is a fine man but in this case his wits have gone a-begging, if you will excuse my saying so.”

“His grace has a picture of you in his traveling case, ma’am,” another of the maids put in, blushing. “I saw him pack it when he thought no one was watching.”

There was a hopeful pause.

“I do not suppose, madam,” Perch said weightily, “that you would be prepared to give his grace another chance?”

Clara looked at them all. “I have already given him several chances,” she said.

Perch nodded. “We are aware, ma’am. What lady could be expected to do more?”

There was another rustle of disapproval from among the assembled ranks. Clearly they believed their esteemed employer had run mad.

“Unless you could think of a winning scheme,” Clara said, “it is pointless. And even then I am not sure that his grace deserves it.”

The housekeeper and several of the maids shook their heads. “Men!” One of the girls said. “Hopeless!”

“Get him at a moment of weakness,” one of the footmen suggested. “He’ll admit to his feelings when he’s in his cups.”

The valet nodded. “That’s true, ma’am. If we could get him drunk.”

Clara stifled a laugh. “I am not certain I would want a man who has to be drunk to admit his love for me.”

The housekeeper shook her head. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, we’re thinking it was the business with Master Oliver that made him this way. Those of us who have been with the family for years saw it happen. The master changed. Terrible shock, it was. After that he turned cold.”

One of the older housemaids nodded sadly. “Aye, such an affectionate little boy he was, but he blamed himself from that day forward.”

Clara raised her brows. “Who was Master Oliver?”

The servants shuffled uncomfortably. “Master Oliver was his grace’s brother,” Perch said. “There was an accident.”

“Drowned,” one of the footman put in. “Terrible business.”

Clara was so suprised that she was silent for a moment. She had never heard of Oliver Fleet, still less that the duke had ever had a brother. He had never, ever mentioned it to her and, she was sure, not to Martin, either. But then, he was good at keeping secrets.

“I had no notion,” she said.” How dreadful. I am so sorry.”

The servants nodded sadly.

“His grace blamed himself. He has been as cold as ice ever since,” Perch explained. There was a long silence before he continued.

“We know that you are too good for his grace, ma’am, being a true lady and generous to a fault, but if you could see your way to giving his grace—and the rest of us—another chance...”

The eagerness of their expression was heartbreaking. Clara thought of the stories behind the faces, the families that depended on their wages, the fear of being without a job or a roof over their heads, the uncertainty of a servant’s life. And yet it was not only that that had prompted them to throw themselves on her mercy. They had seen her come and go through Sebastian Fleet’s life for two years and the sincerity of their regard warmed her.

“If you have a plan,” she said, “I am prepared to listen to it.”

Perch checked the clock on the mantel. “In approximately two minutes his grace will decide to go out to drown his sorrows, ma’am. We shall give him a few hours to become cast adrift, and then we will escort you to fetch him home.” He looked around at his fellow servants. “We believe he will admit his feelings for you very soon, ma’am. His grace has almost reached the point where they cannot be denied.”

There was a crash out in the hall. Everyone jumped at the sound of the library door banging open and Seb Fleet’s voice shouting irascibly for his butler. He sounded absolutely furious.

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