“I want you to come with me to the Simpsons’ ball next week. I should like you to pretend to be a lady.”
Her hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes teared up. Anthony stood tall. He was making the funny maid’s dream come true. She would have an evening to dance with him and perhaps a few other gentlemen. But mostly with him. It would be something she could tell her children about one day. And there would be no part of her that would think he could be interested in courting her. It was the perfect plan. And her touching reaction solidified his certainty that he had chosen wisely.
Until she dropped her hand and burst out laughing.
***
Patience wiped a tear from her eye and tried to stand up straight. “You would like me to pretend to do what?” she asked. Perhaps she had heard wrong.
Mr. Woodsworth’s frown lines were back. He narrowed his eyes as he watched for her reaction. “I want you to pretend to be a lady.”
“I cannot do that,” she said, biting her cheeks to keep herself from laughing again. She had only been pretending to be a maid for three days, and now she was being asked to pretend to be a lady? If only Nicholas could see her now.
“You do yourself a disservice by saying so. I actually don’t think it will take much work to get you up to snuff.”
“You don’t? Well that is a relief.” She exaggerated a large sigh before continuing. She couldn’t help it. She needed to know exactly where this stiff young man felt she was lacking. “What things, exactly, need improvement?”
He eyed her up and down. “Your clothing, for certain. And that may be a problem. It will be quite awkward for me to find clothing for you. But I will find a way. And your accent, we will have to fix that. Where exactly are you from?”
Where was Rebecca from? Somewhere in London. Patience had done her best to roll her words like Rebecca did, but she knew she wasn’t doing it perfectly. “You think all it takes to be a lady is a nice set of clothing and a proper accent?”
“No, it takes more than that, obviously. Deportment, carriage, a suitable family. You will have to pretend.”
“Pretend? You want me to pretend to have deportment?” Deportment had been hammered into her since she was six years old.
“You’ve worked for ladies and seen how they act. Do you think it possible?”
“I think I could manage,” she said with a hand half-covering her smile.
“You would have to speak more clearly as a lady.”
She removed her hand from her mouth and dropped Rebecca’s accent. “Whether or not I can act like a lady is beside the point. I’m afraid you have asked the wrong maid for help. I am still working on the tasks I need to do here. I don’t have time to also be a lady.”
Mr. Woodworth unfolded his arms and practically sat down on the desk behind him. After blinking a few times he returned to his more typical, soldier-like stance.
“That accent is perfect.” He marched closer to her. “I will allow you extra time for this work. After all, you are in my father’s employ. I will make sure Mrs. Bates makes you available when needed.”
“Would I be married or unmarried?”
“Most definitely unmarried.”
“If you would like me to be unmarried and yet still a lady, there aren’t many positions in society that title a single woman. What would you have me be? The daughter of a duke?”
His stiff demeanor faltered for a moment, but he recovered quickly, his spine once again straight and on his face an impassive, proper frown. “Of course not. I don’t mean a lady by title. I mean a lady in deportment. Besides,” he scoffed, “no one would believe that. The key to deception is to make it believable.”
Well, it was a relief to know her maid’s disguise was working, even if it stung the slightest bit to think Mr. Woodsworth didn’t think she qualified as a lady. “Well, thank goodness for that. There aren’t many dukes floating around.”
“His Grace, Duke of Harrington, has a sister that will be coming out this Season. What was her name? The family name is Kendrick, but I can’t recall her Christian name.”
“I won’t pretend to be her.”
“I just said you shouldn’t pretend to be a lady in her own right. Of course you wouldn’t pretend to be her. That would be a very bad plan indeed. Although, I would love to see the looks on Mr. and Mrs. Morgan’s faces if I did gain her interest.” The corners of his lips turned up, but he quickly schooled his features. He walked back to his desk and straightened a few papers even though they didn’t need it. “The prospect is ridiculous. It bears no more thinking on.”
“Ridiculous that a lady would be interested in you or ridiculous for me to pretend to be her?”
He turned and caught her eyes. “Both.”
“You aren’t bad looking, you know. And your father is very impressive. I wouldn’t say it was that ridiculous”
He waved his hand. “I don’t actually walk in the same circles as dukes. It truthfully isn’t even in the realm of possibility.”
That was good news, at least. Hopefully she wouldn’t run into anyone who knew Nicholas. No. She wouldn’t run into anyone because she wasn’t going to go along with Mr. Woodsworth’s plan. How could she?
“Why is it so hard for you to believe a lady like that could be interested in you?” Patience asked. Mr. Woodsworth was serious and rather boring, but there was something striking about his intense blue eyes. Indeed, she found him almost pleasant looking despite all the frown lines around his mouth.
He narrowed one eye. “Trust me, I would have no chance. I have looked over all possible matches for someone in my position, and an engagement to Miss Morgan is already more than I should be able to attain with my background.”
Nicholas put General Woodsworth on a pedestal almost as high as the Queen. Patience highly doubted Mr. Woodsworth’s calculations could be correct. “But your father is General Woodsworth. I would think that would count for much.” He could find someone higher ranked than the cousin of a duke. Patience wished she knew this Miss Morgan. Hopefully she would make Mr. Woodsworth happy.
“My father started in the army as a grenadier. He was only given that position because of his size, not because of any connections, and his first few rank advancements were due to survival more than anything. He married my mother, who was a maid. And while my mother may have argued that there was no position in society high enough for the likes of her son, my father has taught me that the best plans are those that have attainable goals.”
Attainable goals? Mr. Woodsworth talked of Miss Morgan as if she were nothing but a step in a well-laid plan. But he had also seemed sincere during his proposal. Was he that great of an actor, or did he truly love this Miss Morgan? “So, you have chosen Miss Morgan as your bride-to-be because you are a social climber and you believe the cousin of a duke is as high of a position you could tempt to marry you?”