A Bid for Romance

Chapter One

Chapter One

~March 24, 1807~

“Get your hands off her!” James Douglass commanded as he strode into Lord Coningsby’s library. There were more pictures than books in the room, but his lordship liked the pretension of calling it the library. Jamie just thought the man an i***t.

It was exactly as he’d feared when Mary hadn’t come back down to the kitchen after sweeping out the fireplaces. The fourteen-year-old maid always left the library for last, in order to avoid Lord Coningsby, but sometimes he returned in the afternoons instead of going out to his club. Jamie, a footman in the household, had warned her that his lordship was home, but Mary hadn’t had a choice—she had to do her work.

And now, Jamie didn’t have a choice but to rescue the girl from their employer’s wandering hands.

Lord Coningsby’s hand froze on the girl’s budding breast as Jamie now came to a halt in the center of the room. His lordship still stood by the fireplace place where he’d accosted the scullery maid. His eyes widened for only a moment before narrowing in anger. He deliberately continued what he was doing, squeezing hard enough to elicit a squeak from the girl as if daring Jamie. The man’s other hand gripped Mary’s upper arm, ensuring that she couldn’t move away.

“I said, get your hands off her,” Jamie repeated. He felt his nails biting into his palms, but it was Coningsby who he’d like to hurt more than anything.

“And just who the hell do you think you are commanding me to do anything,” his lordship spat.

“I am looking out for her welfare—something that should be your responsibility,” Jamie replied.

A cruel smile grew on Lord Coningsby’s face. “Yes, she is my responsibility, and I can do whatever the hell I want with her. She belongs to me.”

“She belongs to nobody,” Jamie said, trying to control the volume if not the tone of his voice.

“She is in my employ, as were you, now get out!” His lordship shouted before turning back to Mary. Tears were streaming down her small round face even as her big brown eyes implored Jamie.

“Don’t lose yer job over me, Jamie,” she cried.

“Oh, don’t worry, my dear, he already has,” Lord Coningsby said, giving her a cruel smile. “Now get out of my house and don’t ever return!” he yelled at the former footman.

“I am not leaving without her,” Jamie said, his voice quietly dangerous. If Coningsby had any intelligence, any sort of experience with a man like Jamie, he would have known that nothing good happened when he lowered his voice in that way. Sadly, Coningsby truly was an i***t. Jamie gave a brief nod to Mary.

“The hell you are,” his lordship said loudly, pulling the girl closer.

It took two long strides before Jamie stood directly into front of the man. “Duck!” he said, keeping his gaze directed at Coningsby.

Luckily, Mary knew exactly what he meant and dropped to the floor. His lordship let go when her movement and then Jamie’s fist took him by surprise. Jamie connected with the man’s nose the moment Mary was out of the way.

As Coningsby screamed, Jamie grabbed Mary’s hand and pulled her from the room. He started toward the front door with her in tow.

“No! We can’t go out that way,” she said, pulling back.

“Who’s going to stop us?”

A rather rotund, older lady was standing in their way, assisted by the butler in pulling on her pelisse, when Jamie excused himself and slipped past her, dragging Mary behind him.

They hadn’t taken two steps away from the house before Mary stopped Jamie, throwing herself into his arms and bursting into tears.

He could do nothing but rub her back consolingly. “It’s all right, now. It’s all right. He won’t ever hurt you again.” She was such a little thing. Her head didn’t even reach his shoulder. She rested it against his chest, making such a brave attempt at containing her fright.

“Thank-thank you,” she said, but a moment later, she gasped. “What are we gonna do now? We’s lost our jobs.”

“I don’t know,” Jamie admitted. “I’ll, I’ll think—” But he honestly didn’t know what he’d do now. He couldn’t go back to being an artist. It was that which had left him with only three options: go home, go into someone’s employ, or starve to death—and he wouldn’t go home. And then there was Mary…

“Young man!” a woman’s voice called from the carriage standing just in front of the house.

Jamie turned toward her. It was the same woman who he’d just passed in the Coningsby’s entry hall.

She crooked her finger at him.

He disentangled himself from Mary and approached.

She handed him a card. “Holton is my butler’s name. Tell him I told you to come ’round.” She sat back inside her carriage and rapped on the ceiling, giving her driver the go ahead to move forward.

Jamie stepped out of the way of the wheels and looked down at the card in his hand. The Duchess of Kendell it said and gave an address on Grosvenor Street.

He turned back to Mary who stood on the sidewalk with streaks from her tears dripping down her cheeks, her brown eyes wide. “It looks like we have an answer,” he said as shocked as she.

~*~

Alys Randall, the Duchess of Kendell hated men like the Earl of Coningsby. She hated them with a passion. She sat back against the well-padded seat of her carriage and forced herself to calm by taking in deep breaths. She was positively shaking.

She’d had a very pleasant visit with Lady Coningsby to discuss some charitable work they would be engaging in, and was just preparing to leave, when she’d heard shouting coming from the room just off the foyer. It was most disturbing—not just the language but the implication. It was evident that someone had discovered his lordship doing something inappropriate with one of his staff.

Sadly, this was common enough. What wasn’t, however, was a man brave enough to confront a nobleman and stop such behavior. Silently, Alys applauded the man, whoever he was.

When the footman strode from the room, dragging the scullery maid behind him and out the door, Alys was even more impressed. What a brave, idiotic thing to do, she thought as she made her way out the door to her carriage. Noticing the fellow standing nearby with the weeping girl just a few yards away, she simply had to do something. She could not, would not, stand by while these two innocent lives were destroyed by a horrid man like Lord Coningsby.

As her carriage pulled away, she knew she’d done the right thing. Never did she interfere in her butler’s handling of the staff. She knew him to be fully capable of managing it, along with the housekeeper. But this was an extenuating circumstance. She just hoped these two were not only brave but good at what they did. She would hate to have them fired soon after rescuing them from this awful, awful situation.

~*~

Jamie and Mary didn’t waste a moment but went straight to the duchess’s home. Jamie handed the card over to the skeptical footman, who answered their knock on the servant’s entrance door.

“We’re here to see Mr. Holton,” Jamie said. “The duchess sent us.”

The fellow looked at the card and then back up at Jamie with raised eyebrows. “Er, yeah, just a moment and I’ll get ’im.”

They stood in the back hall for about ten minutes waiting until, finally, a commanding-looking gentleman limped toward them. He was a good six inches shorter than Jamie, nearly bald, and probably no younger than forty-five or fifty years old. For all that, he lifted his chin into the air and said, “Yes?” in such a way that Jamie felt nervous. This was ridiculous, he thought to himself. If he could punch Lord Coningsby in the nose, he could speak with this butler, no matter how self-important he seemed.

“We’re here for jobs. I’m Jamie Douglas and this is Mary…” He looked to her. He didn’t know her last name.

“Brown,” she supplied. “Mary Brown, sir,” she curtsied.

“Yes, she’s a scullery maid, and I’m, well, I was a footman at the home of Lord and Lady Coningsby.”

“And would you care to tell me why you are no longer employed there?” the man asked with a suspicious tone to his voice.

Jamie cleared his throat. “Er, his lordship was taking liberties with Mary, and I, er, objected.”

The butler’s eyes bugged slightly from his head. “I see.”

He paused to look Jamie over. “Tall,” he said, as if checking off a mental list. “Broad. Blond. Good looking enough.”

Jamie wondered if the man was going to ask to inspect his teeth next; he felt like a stallion being examined for purchase.

“The duchess is a widow,” Mr. Holton said, finishing his examination. Jamie supposed he’d decided he would do. “The current duke resides at the Kendell estate—one of five holdings in the dukedom,” the butler continued. “This household is tightly run, maintaining the highest standard. I, er, assume you have no letters of recommendation.”

“No, sir, we do not. However, we would be willing to come on for a probationary period. If you are not happy with our work, we will seek employment elsewhere,” Jamie said with a great deal more confidence than he felt. He imagined Mary felt the same way, but she nodded her agreement.

The butler nodded. “Very well. You may see Mrs. Holton, the housekeeper, to be measured for livery.” He stepped back to allow them farther into the house.