Dukes In Disguise by Grace Burrowes Susanna Ives Emily Greenwood

Author:Grace Burrowes, Susanna Ives, Emily Greenwood [Burrowes, Grace; Ives, Susanna; Greenwood, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-03-16T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

* * *

Estella woke with a jolt in the cold morning. She had dreamed that the small brook threading through the nearby woods had flooded. When she opened the front door, foaming swift-moving currents had engulfed everything, forming a swirling ocean around her home. A huge wave rolled above the treetops. She tried to run but couldn’t move. Her scream made no sound. The wave had crashed on her, dragging her under. Swirling around her were household items such as dishes, petticoats, and candles. She looked up, seeing the sunlight breaking the surface of the water. But when she swam to the light, a gruff hand had grabbed her ankle and pulled her down, down into the black, frigid depths to drown.

Her heart hammered in her chest. She drew her knees to her chin and rocked herself, humming Mr. Stephens’s lovely Italian song until her heart calmed and the break of dawn fired behind the trees.

She quickly made her toilette with cold water. She didn’t bother to unbraid her hair but left it hanging long. She could pin it up in the kitchens. She donned her stays and dress, leaving them open in the back for Lottie to tie and fasten.

Then she trudged downstairs to the kitchens where the tea waited, that life-giving nectar.

Thinking herself alone, she vulgarly yawned as she opened the breakfast room door to find the wall sconces burning and Mr. Stephens holding a steaming teapot. The scents of cooked eggs, bread, and butter filled the room.

“Good morning,” he said in cheerful tones as he poured a cup. “You are most beautiful.”

She only stared at him in hazy confusion. Her eyes squinted as though she were peering at the bright sun. Was she still asleep? Then she remembered she was hardly dressed. “Oh heavens!” she cried. “Lottie! Help!”

Lottie hurried through the opposite door with a basket of muffins. “Miss Primrose, did you know boys could cook? Mr. Harris says that cooks in London are Frenchie men!”

“Lottie, please help me,” Estella squeaked.

In the corridor, Lottie laced up her mistress, fastened her dress, and treated her to a fat hug. There was nothing to be done with Estella’s hair but keep it in a braid.

When she reentered the parlor, Mr. Stephens said, “You look even more beautiful than before.”

She smiled, flustered. “You and Mr. Harris need not have done this.” She gestured to the table. She was embarrassed that the gentlemen realized the extent of her reduced conditions. “You’re our guests.”

Before Mr. Stephens could answer, Mr. Harris entered and bowed. “Good morning, Miss Primrose.” He was crisply dressed and held two papers, which must have been procured in town that morning when buying the eggs. “Care to read?” he asked.

When she politely declined, he placed one paper by the chair at the center of the table and then walked around to the other side.

“Let me wake my sisters.”

Mr. Stephens waved his hand. “Let them come down as they will.” He pulled back the chair for her at the head of the table.

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