“I am so very grateful to you all,” Sophie said, grasping the cook’s warm hands. “I did not know what would become of me.”

The cook, Mrs. Potts, smiled, her blue eyes twinkling. “I am very glad to have you here, Madam. It’s not every day we have a lady become part of the serving staff. I must confess, it’s quite unorthodox!”

“But necessary, “ Mrs. Martins interjected. “When I heard of your plight, and how very alone you were, I could not have ignored such news. However, that was before we knew Lord Benjamin was coming.”

Sophie felt her cheeks burn. “He seems a very kind man, that is to be sure,” she murmured quietly.

“Kind?” Mrs. Potts chuckled, shaking her head. “He is not kind in the least! That man has been wrapped up in himself since the day he was born.” She made to say more but, with a disapproving look from the housekeeper, she murmured, “I suppose he’s not the worst sort, though,” before lapsing into silence.

“Regardless, I am grateful that he was willing to drive me here,” Sophie replied, with a lift of one shoulder.

Mrs. Martins gave her a tight smile. “I am quite sure you will get to know his true nature very soon. He has been here on previous occasions, although that was many years ago. However, two of the footmen were sent here from the London townhouse. They have brought a great many tales with them which, of course, I have discouraged from being spread around the house, but it seems it cannot be helped.”

Sophie tried to smile and nod but ended up feeling a little sick. She had found Lord Harrington both a handsome and considerate gentleman, but that had only been on the briefest of acquaintances. She might well be wrong. It had taken her some time to determine Malcolm’s true nature. Was she truly such a terrible judge of character?

“Now,” Mrs. Martins continued, leading her into the housekeeper’s small private parlor where a tea tray sat waiting for them. “I know that the situation you are in does not place you where you ought to be, but I believe you wish to hide from your cousin for a time.”

“Yes,” Sophie breathed, a frisson of fear racing down her back as the housekeeper handed her a cup of tea. “My cousin has been quite intent on pressing his intentions on me, and while I was always able to hide in my room, the staff told me that he planned to remove the lock and replace it with a new one so that he might have the key.” She shuddered violently, the tea sloshing over the side of her cup. “I hate to impose, but I have nowhere else to turn.”

Mrs. Martins nodded slowly, her lined face grim. “Yes, I was told that you had no other family to speak of.”

“None,” Sophie admitted, trying to keep the sadness from her face. “When my parents died, I was sent to live with Malcolm, who is my distant cousin, but I have no one else in the world who might care for me.”

Carefully topping up Sophie’s teacup, Mrs. Martins looked up at Sophie thoughtfully. “Then I am glad to have you here, even though it is a very unusual situation. You are quite sure you are willing to take on the role of a servant?” Her expression betrayed a difficulty in believing that Sophie would be capable of doing such a thing.

“I will do whatever I have to,” Sophie answered, firmly. “I cannot go back to my cousin and so I must have food and shelter if I am to survive. I know Malcolm will look for me, and if I am found, then I know not what he shall do.”

The housekeeper did not look in the least bit perturbed. “I am quite sure he will not look for you among the staff,” she said, firmly. “That is why I agreed to Mrs. Potts’ suggestion. It is only she and I that know of your true identity, so be prepared to be treated by the rest of the staff as another maid.”

Sophie managed a slight smile. “I should be glad to be thought of as one of them,” she replied, at once. “I do not want to be treated any differently, although I do not have any experience in cleaning and dusting.” Heat hit her cheeks as she realized just how foolish she sounded. “I mean, I have other skills such as arithmetic and geography, but I hardly think they will be particularly useful at the moment!”

“Unfortunately not,” Mrs. Martins commented, with a slightly rueful smile. “However, we will do what we can. You might prove more useful to assist me with my duties, given that arithmetic and the like are more often a part of my responsibilities than the maids.”

Sophie managed a soft laugh, desperately wondering if she would manage to do what was required of her. Doubts began to plague her as Mrs. Martins rose from her chair, ready to show Sophie her room. Sophie followed, bag in hand, hearing the housekeeper say something about a uniform. She was given a few curious glances by the other servants, who, by this time, were gathering together for their own luncheon. Sophie tried to smile at each one that passed her but was given no words of welcome. She hoped the icy reception was not an indication of what was to come.

“Here,” Mrs. Martins smiled, opening the door into what was the smallest room Sophie had ever seen. “I am quite sure this is not the size you are used to but it is, at least, private and you can lock it from the inside. No one will bother you, but the key to the lock is already in the door.”

Sophie smiled and thanked her, appreciating her kindness.

“Do come through to eat with the rest of us,” Mrs. Martins replied, making to close the door. “Once you are settled in, of course.”

Promising that she would, Sophie stood by the bed and looked around the small room. It was almost the same size as her dressing room had been, long and narrow. There was a bed in one corner, a small table and a few candles. That was all. There was no fire but plenty of blankets. Sophie could not imagine what it would be like to dress in the morning, wondering whether there would be ice on the inside of the small, narrow window. She shivered at the thought, placing her bag on the bed. The frame creaked as she sat down next to it, making her wonder whether or not it would truly take her weight.

But Sophie determined that she would not complain. Yes, the room was nothing like she was used to and certainly a lot smaller, but it was better than remaining in her large room at Malcolm’s estate with the sound of his determined bellow ringing in her ears. And, at least here she felt safe, even though she was taking on a role that was not hers and certainly did not belong to her. She had no idea how to cook or clean, and was certain she would look like a most incompetent maid. The last thing she needed was for the master to consider her a very strange thing and get rid of her – for she needed both the job and the security.

“Then I shall just put my mind to it and learn,” she muttered to herself and, getting to her feet, began to take things from her bag and set them about the room. Her clothes neatly away, Sophie pulled out the last of her items – a small miniature of her parents. She gazed at it for a moment, her heart squeezing painfully. If only they had lived, how different life would have been.

Brushing away a single tear, Sophie set her shoulders and determined to make the best of the situation. She could do this. She would to do this. She had no other choice.

* * *

“Now,” Mrs.Martins murmured, as she helped Sophie tie up her hair following the mid-day meal. “We shall go and introduce you to the master and I will ask him specifically if I can train you. I shall say some such thing about you having more skills than I first realized, and that I think you could do with some additional training and that you might be a help to me.” She gave Sophie a kind smile. “I think that would do you better than dusting and the like.”

Sophie did not quite manage to curve her lips, tension rolling around in her stomach at the thought of meeting Lord Harrington again. He was handsome, to be sure, but the words of the cook reminded her too much of Malcolm. She had hoped to try to escape his notice as best she could.

“Remember not to look directly at him, and curtsy when you first go in,” the housekeeper continued, as she began to walk briskly towards the servant's stairs. “I shall do most of the talking, although be prepared to answer any questions he might have.”

“Yes, of course,” Sophie mumbled, her heart all in a flutter. She resisted the urge to straighten her dress – a long, high necked, dark creation that certainly added to her attempts to look like a servant, and followed in behind Mrs. Martins.

“Ah, good evening, Mrs. Martins,” Lord Harrington mumbled, not looking at either of them as he continued to stare into the bright orange and red flames that licked up the wood and coal in the grate, his wrist turning as he swirled the drink in his hand. “The butler mentioned that you wanted to discuss something with me.”

“I thank you for your time, my lord,” Mrs Martins replied at once, with a slight bow of her head. “What I wanted to speak to you about was our new maid.”

Lord Harrington glanced over at them both, his brows rising to see Sophie standing there who realized, too late, that she had been much too busy studying Lord Harrington. His dark hair hung over his brow, his shirt open at the neck, naked without a cravat in the privacy of his home. She could see tufts of hair rising above it. With sculpted cheekbones, an aquiline nose, and dark blue eyes that seemed to see right through her, something about him caused heat to flood in her belly.

“The new maid who is present at this very moment?” Lord Harrington murmured, his gaze raking over her from head to toe.

“Indeed,” Mrs. Martins answered, as Sophie dropped her eyes to the floor, her cheeks burning from being caught staring. “She has proven herself to have skills that would be of an assistance to me. I would ask, therefore, that she be allowed to help me in my work. Perhaps I might even train her.”

“So she can go off and find herself another place of employment?” Lord Harrington chuckled, shaking his head. “Goodness, Mrs. Martins! I do hope you are not trying to take my servants away from me before they’ve even started.”

“No, of course I am not, my lord,” Mrs. Martins replied, sounding more than a little flustered. “I simply meant that she would, at least, be a good addition to your household should she be allowed to use the skills she has.”

“And what skills are these?” Lord Harrington asked, his eyes now back on Sophie, who glanced up at Mrs. Martins. She saw Mrs. Martins give the tiniest of nods, telling her that she should respond to Lord Harrington herself.

“I can do arithmetic,” she stammered, not quite sure what else to say. “I can read and write very well.”

“Is that so?” Lord Harrington murmured, suddenly throwing himself from his chair and coming to stand in front of her. “And how is it that a maid comes to have such skills as these?”

Sophie’s mouth went dry. She did not raise her eyes but was more than aware of him standing in front of her. His presence filled the room, surrounding her on every side.

“I believe she assisted the governess in a previous charge,” Mrs Martins said, hastily, when Sophie remained mute. “Obviously, when the children grew, there was no need for her anymore.”

There was a long silence. Sophie did not know what to say or what to do, standing frozen on the spot. Lord Harrington remained in front of her, as though stuck to the floor. Sophie felt her breath catch in her chest as one long finger reached out and lifted her chin until she was forced to look directly into his face.

“You are very young to have been with a governess until the children flew the nest,” he commented, frowning.

Sophie swallowed the sudden lump of fear in her throat and tried to smile. “The children left for Eton at seven years old and there was but two of them,” she stammered, relieved that she had come up with a reasonable explanation. “Both boys, of course.”

His eyes caught hers and refused to let her look away. The intensity of his gaze sparked both terror and warmth in her heart, swirling them together until she was utterly confused. She could only hope that he would accept what she said, for she could not come up with any other kind of explanation.

After what seemed like an eternity, he dropped her chin and stepped back, seemingly satisfied.

“I suppose you might help Mrs. Martins, then,” he said, glancing over at the housekeeper. “Although we will not have difficulties with the rest of the maids, then, I hope?”

“No, not in the least,” Mrs Martins promised. “I can assure you that there are enough of them to fulfil all that is expected and more.”

Sophie closed her eyes briefly in relief, feeling her shoulders slump as the tension in her body drained away. She felt a slight touch on her arm and, seeing Mrs. Martins nodding towards the door, began to hurry towards it, suddenly desperate to remove herself from Lord Harrington’s presence.

“However,” came his strong voice. “At times, I may require your assistance. Should your arithmetic and writing skills be up to scratch, then I have a lot of paperwork you may help me go through.”

Mrs. Martins grasped Sophie’s arm and turned her back around to face the master.

“But of course,” Mrs. Martins replied as Sophie pasted a smile on her face. “I am quite sure she would be delighted to help you.”

“And what do I call you?” Lord Harrington asked, directing the question at Sophie. “I confess that I remember very few of the names of my staff, but I believe that you are to be the exception in this case.”

Sophie stared at him, the words of introduction dying on her lips. She had not thought of another name for herself, and certainly could not give him her own name.

“This is Sarah, my lord,” Mrs. Martins said, quickly. “I am sorry, she is something of a mouse.”

His lips quirked. “A mouse, are you? Very quiet indeed.” He watched her for a moment longer before turning on his heel and shrugging. “Very good. I shall call for you tomorrow, Sarah. I must see how good these so-called ‘skills’ of yours really are before I will know for certain whether you are to be of any use to me.”