THE COACH TRUDGED OVER muddy lanes. Celia perched awkwardly beside the driver on the small seat. The horses grunted and groaned, perhaps confused why anyone would want to travel in such horrid conditions.

“We’ll be in London soon,” the driver said.

“Splendid,” Celia said.

She hoped it was splendid.

Not being on this swaying seat must be an advantage.

But once they arrived, Lady Fitzroy would put her to work. She’d promised the hours would be longer, the tasks more painful than anything Celia could imagine.

Well. Celia had been doing nothing except imagining.

Everyone continued to celebrate the Christmas season. There were twelve days of Christmas, and the patrons at inns seemed intent on celebrating each one with as much ale and gin as possible. Christmas garlands draped the doorways and the wooden beams in coaching inns, but now the dark green pine needles caused Celia’s heart to ache.

Frederick.

She attempted to banish his memory, but whenever she shut her eyes, it was his face she viewed.

“We’re here,” the driver said.

Celia scrambled from the coach, wiping her bleary eyes.

“You’ve been sleeping,” the countess said.

“I-—”

“You never learn,” Lady Fitzroy said. “Well. You will get right back to work. You have a new position.”

Celia stiffened. Surely Lady Fitzroy would not let her do housekeeper training after all? 

“Scullery maid,” Lady Fitzroy said. “It’s good if you start at the lowest rank. Hopefully you’ll be capable of filling those duties. Any broken dishes or missing pieces will be taken out of your salary, which naturally will be lower than before. Much lower.”

Celia had only been paid a pittance before.

“You should get comfortable,” Lady Fitzroy said. “You won’t be leaving the position. Ever.”

“Yes, my lady.” Celia kept her head down.

“Hmph.” The countess sniffed and soon conferred with the senior staff who had exited the townhouse to greet the carriage.

Celia entered the house and made her way into the dimly lit kitchen. In the summer some light came through the thin, high placed windows, but such luxuries were an impossibility in the winter.

Servants bustled about in the room. Some of them gave her curt nods, but most were silent, occupied with their own tasks.

“Had a nice holiday?” Cook asked.

“Yes,” Celia said.

Cook sniffed. “You were gone long enough.”

Celia forced herself to smile, “I’m back now.”

Cook shrugged and handed Celia an apron. “Seems like you’ll be working with me now.”

“Yes.” Celia tried to make her voice have a modicum of cheerfulness.

“Reckon the mistress didn’t like your long holiday,” Cook said. “She complained about you mightily. It’s a wonder you still have a position at all.”

Celia took the apron and tied it around herself quickly. The words lingered in her mind.

“Polly is in housekeeping training,” Cook announced.

Celia blinked.

“That’s wonderful for her.”

“Yes,” Cook agreed. “Always reckoned it would be you. Polly’s never shown much interest in anything that doesn’t involve men. Completely mad for them.”

Celia pressed her lips together. She’d been the one who’d thrown away all chances of a good career for a man.

She would never be a housekeeper now.

She’d destroyed that chance.

The numbers and calculations that coursed through her mind would never be assigned any usefulness.

“You’re back!” Polly squealed and wrapped her in a hug. “I’m so glad. We thought some horrible disaster must have befallen you.”

Such as my heart shattering?

“I’m fine,” Celia said.

“I was shocked to learn Lady Fitzroy wanted you to be the scullery maid,” Polly whispered. “It must be some mistake. If I ask the other servants to speak with her...”

“Don’t do that,” Celia said. “Though it’s kind of you to suggest it. It won’t make things better. I’d rather not irritate her.”

“That’s what happens when you make the mistress upset,” Cook said. “Actions have consequences.”

“But Celia’s worked here for so long,” Polly said. “And she was the late earl’s—”

Cook gave her a warning glance. Everyone noticed that Celia resembled Lady Theodosia and Lady Amaryllis. Everyone could tell she had the earl’s green eyes and nose. But that didn’t mean it was something anybody could discuss.

One didn’t like musing over the earl’s past propensity to sire bastards, even if he was in the grave.

“It’s fine,” Celia said hastily.

She had memories of Frederick.

They’d have to last her a lifetime.

If only they were not tinged with guilt.

And Lady Fitzroy had been correct: the duke might have proposed to the real Lady Theodosia. Perhaps she would have charmed him.

“As you please,” Polly said. “Perhaps you can help me with understanding the budgets? They are frightfully complex. If the pay weren’t better, I would never have accepted the position.”

“Of course I’ll help,” Celia said.

After Polly left, Cook frowned. “We both know that should have been your position. I don’t know what you did to disappoint the lady of the house so much, but I want to be absolutely clear, I do not want any troubles in my kitchen.”

“Of course not,” Celia said, surprised.

She’d been worried about returning to her former position, but even that had changed.

She grabbed a pot and scrubbed. Eventually it would shine. It just didn’t seem possible anytime soon. Her arms ached, and her apron was soon wet.

She told herself she wished she’d never gone to Yorkshire.

She’d never have met Frederick then.

Her heart would not ache.

She’d have received a promotion and would be happily working. Unlike Polly, she would not be complaining about it.

And yet...

Surely the fact the world had created someone as wonderful as Frederick should bring her some comfort, even if he abhorred her.