Free Gallant Waif by Anne Gracíe

him again. “Who the devil are you?” he said slowly, his eyes boring into her.
    “I told you my name last night. It is Kate Farleigh, in case you have forgotten,” she retorted, twisting her arm to escape his grip. “Will you please release my hand?”
    “I haven’t finished with you yet.”
    Kate pursed her lips in annoyance. “I suppose you think your position entitles you to make game of others!”
    “What?” He frowned down at her in puzzlement.
    “Evidently you consider you’re perfectly entitled to treat those less fortunate than yourself in any fashion you care to! Well, I take leave to dispute you on that. No matter who I am, I have the right to go about my concerns as I see fit, without interference from you or any other member of your family!” Kate looked pointedly down at her wrist, imprisoned by his large strong hand.
    He noted the short, blunt, unpolished nails, so different from the smooth, polished ovals on every lady of his acquaintance. He turned her hand over and his large thumb moved gently back and forth over the work-roughened skin. There was no doubt that this girl was accustomed to menial work, but she was an enigma all the same.
    “You are the damnedest kitchen maid!” he murmured at last, shaking his head. “How the devil did you come to be brought here by my grandmother?”
    Kate looked up at him in surprise. The dark head was still frowning over her hand. She repressed a rueful grin. She supposed she couldn’t blame him for that. She was surely dressed for the part and he had seen her working in the kitchen, obviously at home. Well, if the master of the house insisted on calling Kate a kitchen maid, Kate would oblige him—and serve him right! She had an imaginary spider to pay him back for, after all!
    “Sir.” She tugged at her hand.
    His thumb still absently caressed her.
    “I must get back to my duties, sir. The kitchen floor needs scrubbing.” She tried to pull her hand free again, becoming increasingly unsettled by the gentle motion of his thumb on her skin.
    “But where on earth did you learn to speak like a lady?”
    Oh, drat the man! Would he never leave off? Kate’s sense of humour got the best of her. “A lady, sir?” She goggled in mock-surprise, and did her best to simper. “I never thought I sounded like a real lady.” She pronounced it “loidy’.
    “I kept house for an old gentleman for a long time and he insisted I learn to speak proper-like. He was a true scholar, sir, and a Reverend he was, too, and he hated what he called the mangling of the English language.”
    He did not appear to notice that her accent had broadened considerably during this speech, a fact which Kate found immensely encouraging. She twisted her hands awkwardly, as she imagined a rustic wench would, when confronted by a handsome gentleman.
    “He taught me to read and write and cipher an’ all,” she added ingenuously, regarding him with wide, innocent eyes—which she was tempted for a moment to cross, but didn’t.
    “But you understand Spanish,” Jack persisted. “Where does a kitchen maid come to know a foreign tongue like that?”
    “I imagine there are hundreds of kitchen maids in Spain,” she responded pertly, her eyes downcast to hide the mischief in them.
    “Don’t be impertinent, girl; you know perfectly well I was asking how an English kitchen maid like you came to know Spanish. It’s obvious to me that you have no Spanish blood.”
    She beamed up at him foolishly. “You’re absolutely right, sir—no Spanish blood at all. You are a clever gentleman. Coo, so you are.”
    The chit was playing games with him again! He was hard put to it not to laugh—except that he had an equally strong impulse to turn her over his knee. How on earth had this cheeky little miss survived this long without being strangled, let alone kept a position in a household? He couldn’t imagine his grandmother putting up with this type of cheek from a maidservant. His mouth quirked in