Rogues Like It Hot Read online

  A flicker of a smile touched the corner of her mouth as she recalled the last two days under Mrs. Killen’s tutelage and the watchful eye of the Duke himself who, curiously, had taken a personal interest in her education.

  She cast a quick glance at the Duke who appeared to have dozed off opposite her in the carriage. His hat sat tilted back on his head, allowing her full view of his face. He had not shaved that morning, so the shadow of a beard fell around his full lips and along his square jawline. His thick lashes fell on his cheeks and a twitch in his cheek caused a single dimple to play hide and seek with Penelope. She could not help but stare. The last few days of being in his continual presence had not diminished her awe of him.

  She leaned back in her seat and allowed herself to take in his broad shoulders and narrow waist, which were enhanced by the cut of his jacket. Her eyes moved to his legs, his muscular thighs straining against the fabric of the fashionable breeches he wore with his travel boots. Her eyes moved to his hands, loosely clasped on his lap. They were strong hands. She noted the callouses and the cuts and she smiled. He may be a noble man, but it was obvious that he was no stranger to hard work.

  He stirred in his sleep and his lashes fluttered, so she quickly turned her gaze to the bustle of the city that was now all around them, her thoughts still on his hands. He was well loved by his tenant farmers. He often rode out into the fields to get to know his people better. She knew that the reason his hands were cut and calloused was because he had gone out to help one of the tenants repair a section of their roof. The servants in the kitchen whispered and giggled over the idea of the Duke on the roof with no shirt on, working as hard as the young tenant who lived there.

  As Penelope stared out at the houses, shops, and people they drove past, she did not realise that the Duke had awoken and was, in turn, observing her. He was satisfied with the attire his housekeeper had helped Penelope to pick out. The dress she wore was of the latest fashion in its shape, but was of a typical serviceable shade of deep grey, and made in a durable fabric. Under the dress, she wore a chemisette of a soft cream colour that gathered at her neck, visible above the rather conservative neckline of the dress. Her hair had been dressed for the wear of a small hat, understated and clean, with ringlets lining the sides of her clear face. He watched her take in the streets of London, her eyes wide, her hands clenching at her skirt in nervousness.

  “You need not be nervous,’” he said, causing her to quickly shift in her seat to face him. The pink blush, which he had grown accustomed to seeing every time he spoke to her, coming to her cheeks. She smiled quickly and relaxed her hands, smoothing her dress carefully.

  “I have never been to London before, Your Grace.”

  “It is a lot to take in. I am confident that you will find it exhilarating. Once we get you settled in and familiar with how the house is run, I am sure that you find ample time to get out and about and explore the city.”

  Penelope looked out as the carriage slowed to a stop in front of a row of grand homes. She looked up the face of the building several stories high. The Duke stepped out of the carriage and turned to help her step down onto the cobblestone walkway. Looking around, she immediately missing the rolling hills and open spaces of her previous home.

  The Duke sensed her mood.

  “City life will take some getting used to. Come along, there is much to show you before I begin my meetings.”

  The Duke led Penelope up the steps to his London home, and rapped on the door. Moments later, a maid opened it.

  “Oh, Your Grace! I didn’t expect you yet!”

  The maid stepped back, and Penelope entered the imposing building, following the Duke. She was immediately overwhelmed by the grandness of it. It was clearly newer than the great house at Derham Park, and it was polished and clean, which gave it an air of freshness. She took in the colourful tapestries hanging around the entrance, and noted the high windows facing the street which let in a great deal of light.

  As the groom carried in their luggage, the maid stood waiting, and the Duke stepped to one side, to tug on a bell-pull. Penelope heard a bell ring in the distance, followed shortly after by a small stampede of feet rushing to them.

  When all of the servants stood before them, arrayed formally in a line, the Duke stepped forward to greet them. He addressed each of them individually, the butler, the cook, the kitchen maids, the household maids, the footmen, the gardener, and the grooms. Each nodded, bowed their heads, and then smiled and shook his hand. Finally, the Duke stepped back and waved Penelope forward.

  “As you all know from the letter I sent before coming, I have hired a new housekeeper to manage the house, in cooperation with Mr. Jenkins. This is Miss Jameson. She has a great deal of experience in managing a household. However, her previous employer did not mix in society circles, so Miss Jameson will need your patience and help getting used to running a house of this size, especially when we are here for the Season.”

  The Duke turned to Jenkins, the butler.

  “Jenkins, I trust that you will show Miss Jameson her rooms and help her to get settled into her new position.”

  Jenkins had been with the Duke of Derhamshire’s family for his entire life - just as his father and his grandfather before him had been. He was nearing his fifties, the grey showing at his temples. Penelope grew uncomfortable under the older man’s scrutiny, but relaxed when he smiled at her before he nodded to the Duke.

  “She is quite young, Your Grace.”

  Jenkins searched the Duke’s face, was there more to this young woman than met the eye? Was she a new conquest? The Duke’s face revealed nothing, so he turned his scrutiny to Penelope. In her unease, he saw something that alleviated his concerns - she was innocent, he was quite certain. He smiled at her again, to lessen the harshness of his stare.

  “Well? Jenkins?” The Duke prodded.

  “Aye, Your Grace. I will see that she is properly settled into her new position. We all will, Your Grace.”

  “Very well then.”

  The Duke clapped his hands once and then turned abruptly on his heel and left Penelope standing in the foyer with the rest of the staff.

  Jenkins looked past her as the grooms brought in the last of the luggage from the carriage, then he nodded to the footmen.

  “Come along, gents. There is baggage to carry to both the Duke’s and Miss Jameson’s rooms.”

  While the men hurried to deal with the trunks, one of the maids stepped forward. She was younger than Penelope, and shorter. Her red hair was pulled back into a bun hidden under her cap. She had pale blue eyes and many freckles on her face. But she had a sweet smile.

  “I can show you to your rooms, Miss. We cleaned them real nice. There be no more work there, so you can settle and rest a while after your journey.”

  Penelope nodded and glanced at the other servants, who paid no attention, but turned and went down a hall that led past the staircase. The maid led her up the stairs, then around the landing to a second staircase leading to the upper floors, explaining as she went.

  “All the formal rooms are on the first floor. The kitchen, stores, and laundry are below. The family and guest rooms are on the second floor. Your rooms and Mr. Jenkins’ rooms are on the third floor, along with a nursery and a room for a governess or tutor. All the rest of the servants have quarters on the fourth floor.”

  Penelope followed the girl in silence. At the top of the second staircase, the girl turned to the right and down a hallway. She stopped at the first set of doors and opened them inward to a sitting room with a couch, tea table, sideboard, and a small desk. A tall window let in light, and Penelope realised that she could see over the houses across the street, to a landscape of rooftops and chimneys stretching to the east.

  The young maid moved through the room and opened another door. She waved Penelope past her. Penelope moved into a bedroom the same size as the sitting room. The room was dominated by a large four poster bed, a set of drawers with a mirror on top, and a wash basi
n and metal tub in the corner farthest away from another tall window.

  “How do you like it, Miss?”

  Penelope turned to the maid and smiled warmly. She reached up and began to remove the pins from her hat, and placed the hat gently on the bed.

  “This is lovely,” she said, in awe of her new home. At Lady Dankerson’s, she hadn’t had any space to herself. This was a dream come true to her. She turned to face the maid.

  “I didn’t catch your name.”

  The maid smiled and winked.

  “I be Dolly. The others just call me Doll though.”

  “How long have you served this house?”

  Dolly shifted on her feet, “Oh. Well. I guess it be ‘bout four o’ five years now, Miss. This be a good place. I got friends who ent got it so good as I do.”

  Penelope nodded. She understood.

  “My last position wasn’t so good either, Dolly.”

  Dolly smiled brightly at the new housekeeper - she had liked her as soon as she’d set eyes on her, but she also felt a pang of fear for the new woman. The Duke had a reputation, and everyone, especially the servants, knew it. Dolly had seen some of the women the Duke had entanglements with. She’d never liked any of them. She hoped that Miss Jameson wasn’t one of them. But she looked at Miss Jameson and her natural beauty and deep down she knew that Miss Jameson was different.

  “Well, Miss, I best be going. Mr. Jenkins will see your belongings brought up, but I will be missed in the kitchens. Whenever His Grace comes back, we always have a grand meal to welcome him. Aye, yes. I best git.”

  Penelope nodded as the maid rushed out of the room. She went to the bedroom window and moved a sheer lace curtain to the side. Below on the street, she saw the carriage, just setting off to go… where? There had to be a stable and carriage house at the rear of the house somewhere, she supposed. She could not hear the wheels on the cobbles though, and realised how quiet it was in her room.

  “What do you think?”

  His voice once again made her heart stop. She reached out instinctively and gained strength by bracing herself on the window sill. Once her shock settled, she turned to face him. He no longer wore his hat, and his blue eyes lit by the daylight were startlingly clear. She felt the colour flood her cheeks again. She bowed slightly.

  “Your Grace. You startled me.”

  He chuckled from the doorway to her bedroom.

  “I seem to have quite the knack for that.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “So? What do you think?”

  “What do I think of what?”

  The Duke spread his arms.

  “Of London. Of this house. Of the staff. Of your new life… of…” his voice trailed off, and he seemed suddenly embarrassed.

  Penelope moved a few steps closer to him. Her clear eyes met his and she smiled.

  “I cannot begin to thank you, Your Grace. I think this is all too wonderful. I don’t deserve any of this. I still do not understand why…”

  The Duke smiled warmly at her. He longed to step closer to her and to comfort her, for he could see the unease in her smile and in the tension in her body, but just as he was about to, Jenkins appeared through the door to the sitting room with one of Penelope’s new trunks.

  “Where would you like this, Miss?”

  Penelope pointed to a corner in the bedroom, and the Duke had to move out of the way. He moved to the fireplace in the sitting room and stood waiting. Jenkins set down the trunk and left. The Duke waited until he was gone, then he pulled a folded paper out of his jacket.

  “This is the contract of your employment with me. I would ask that you read over it before you consider signing it. My solicitors will be here first thing in the morning if you need anything clarified.”

  He placed the papers on the tea table and then reached into his jacket pocket once more. Laying several pounds on the table on the envelope, he looked at Penelope.

  “We will be hosting a dinner for several of my colleagues, tomorrow evening. This should cover the expenses of whatever you and Cook need to put it together, beyond what has already been ordered in. After tomorrow, I will show you the books that you are responsible for. When I leave, you will manage them, though Jenkins can help, as he performs the duties of Steward for my London property.”

  Penelope stood still in the doorway to her room. The Duke’s sudden formality cut her to the core. Then she instantly chided herself. She was not there as his friend. She was not there as his love interest or his betrothed. She was there to fill a position. Of course he was formal! He was supposed to be!

  She nodded her head.

  “Thank you, Your Grace. I hope that I can exceed your expectations.”

  The Duke suddenly felt uneasy. He looked around the room, and then at Penelope. He had no doubt that she would be a fine housekeeper, but a nagging thought in his mind told him it was wrong to keep her in a place of servitude. Maybe it was the grace she carried herself with. Maybe it was her humble confidence. He did not understand the unease filling him. He could not fight the urge to get away, so he nodded at Penelope and left without another word.

  Penelope watched him go in silence. Something troubled him, but she could not fathom what it might be. She waited several minutes, then she gathered up the money that he had left on the table and tucked it securely away in her pocket. She decided that she needed to find the kitchen and help the others with the dinner they had planned for the Duke’s return.

  ***

  Her window was cracked outward during the night, allowing her to hear the sounds of the city after dark. At first, she’d had a hard time sleeping as she tried to match new sounds with their causes. She heard muffled voices, hooves on the cobblestones of the street, wooden wheels clacking along, random bird sounds, and distant bells and whistles which she assumed floated on the air from the river and docks. Finally, she had fallen into a fitful sleep, her dreams too vivid of the Duke. She woke with a start as she heard a young boy calling out below. News of the war across the channel. Spain. Portugal. France. Napoleon. General Wellesley. Penelope could not make out details of what the boy was yelling, but a chill settled in her gut.

  She threw the covers aside and, grabbing her robe, she moved to the window and peered down at the boy. She was not the only one whose attention he had grabbed. People were milling about him in the street - Lords, Ladies, and servants alike. She watched as the Duke emerged from the house and approached the crowd. She could not make out what he said, but the crowd dispersed, and the Duke led the young boy into the house.

  Penelope rushed into action. She put on a dress and tidied herself. Quickly wrapping her braid into a bun at the back of her head, she arranged a few strands around her face and nearly ran out of her room and down the stairs. As she reached the first floor, she saw the other servants already up and gathered near the door to the study, which was ajar, a thin beam of light pouring into the foyer.

  Jenkins saw Penelope first. He stood upright and away from the door where he had been leaning to hear better.

  “Good morning, Miss…”

  Penelope brushed past him without a word and knocked boldly at the door.

  “Come in,” the Duke called.

  Penelope nodded at the servants and motioned for them to follow her in. She stepped into the study where a fire had been lit and several candles burned in the pale early morning light. She waited until the others had filed in behind her.

  “Your Grace,” she murmured as she bowed her head, then she met his eyes. She saw immediately that his eyes were hooded and troubled and the chill she’d felt in her gut earlier felt like a stone in her stomach. The young boy who had been shouting in the street was sitting in a chair, with rosy cheeks and still out of breath.

  The Duke saw the concern in Penelope’s eyes and the interest in each of the servant’s faces as they stood quietly behind her.

  “Is something the matter?” he asked them all.

  Penelope glanced at Jenkins and the others,
then she looked back at the Duke.

  “We heard the boy outside, Your Grace. We heard him say something about new developments in the war…”

  The Duke leaned against his desk and looked at the boy who sat wringing his hands in an oversized chair.

  “This young fellow is a crier. Miss Jameson, you are not yet used to these things, but through this young man, and others like him, is all too often how we gain news.” The Duke nodded at the boy. “Young Charles here was just telling me that Wellesley, one of our most notable Generals, who is also a friend of mine, is going to be taking on Napoleon Bonaparte. This, of course, means that we will be sending more of our men over there.”

  Penelope gasped, but it was Jenkins’ comment that nearly floored her.

  “Will you be joining his ranks again, Your Grace?”

  Penelope’s eyes flashed between Jenkins and the Duke. What did he mean, again?

  The Duke ran his hands over his face and stifled a yawn. He closed his eyes for several long seconds before raising them to his staff. He tried not to look at Penelope, who was nearly trembling in trepidation, her face white as the collar around her neck. He took a deep breath. He knew that he might be called back into action, to carry secret government correspondence to the General, even though that was not common for a peer of the realm who, as yet, had no heir of his body. He did not dread it or fear it. Yet, something did cause him to pause, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. He shook off the feeling; he had much to do before he got the summons which he knew was likely to be forthcoming.

  “I feel it likely that the summons will be arriving within a day or two. Miss Jameson, please see that tonight’s dinner continues as planned. The rest of you, do not fret, please go about your duties. If anything arises that concerns you, I will have Miss Jameson and Jenkins pass it along.”

  The rest of the staff left the room without a word, but Jenkins and Penelope stood planted as though in mud. Jenkins loved the Duke as though he were a son, and he knew that Miss Jameson held an affection for his master which was deep and pure, but which she did not dare express. Jenkins saw it in her face, in the fear in her eyes, and the concern that held her body at the ready. It was a pity that she was not of noble birth. She would have made his master an excellent wife.