Haskell was checking the duke’s linen when the staff belowstairs abruptly fell silent and rose to their feet. He turned to find Miss Armstrong entering the kitchen. The sight of her filled his heart with joy, just as it had the first time he had met her. If anything, she was more lovely than he recalled, tall and slender with a crown of red-gold curly hair. He had seen her only weeks before, but hourly could not be sufficient for Haskell. The young girl he had first admired had grown into a woman, still practical but infinitely more lovely.
She moved with grace and purpose into the kitchen. “Good day, everyone,” she said. “Please do be seated again.” Her smile put the staff immediately at ease. Not all were as quick to sit as she suggested, though: Pierce and Findlay remained standing as
