Free Maid for Scandal by Anthea Lawson Page A

imploring her to keep him in her thoughts. Once he had gone, there was no color, no vividness left in her life. She simply couldn’t bear it. Her heart was breaking for want of him.
    Coming here in disguise was altogether impetuous of her, she knew it—but love admitted no boundaries. Hadn’t Shakespeare himself said that very thing? So here she was, and soon she and Giles would be together.
    This happy thought carried her to the end of the hall, despite the ache in her arms and the bruises surely forming on her knees. Anna let out a sigh and stood to survey the floor stretching behind her. Why, she had done rather a fine job of it. Perhaps she would make an excellent maid, after all. Although, as soon as she could speak with Giles, everything would change.
    Sadly, the ‘young master,’ as the butler called him, was a late riser. A very late riser. Anna had completed more chores than she could count and had yet to catch sight of him. The servant’s midday meal came, and Cook pressed bread and cheese into Anna’s hands, urging her to go out into the sunshine.
    “Ye’ve a bit of a wan face now, dearie. The fresh air will do ye good. Go on then.”
    Anna gave her a grateful nod, then slipped out the kitchen door before anyone else could speak to her. Except for a red-haired girl who kept staring daggers at her, the other maids and footmen seemed pleasant enough—but Anna couldn’t risk becoming friendly. Her pretense was too flimsy, and truly, she had no idea what to say to them.
    The kitchen garden was full of rows of lettuces, and the air smelled of thyme and lavender. Anna took a deep breath. Heavens, she was tired. Even wearier than the time she and Belinda had watched the sun come up after dancing all night at the Caswell’s annual ball.
    A sunlit patch of uncut grass beyond the gate beckoned to her, and she slipped the latch and went to sit in the tall green stems. The bread and cheese were delicious—quite as good as any canapés she had tasted in Town. A pity her lunch was gone so quickly, as it had only taken the edge off her hunger. She let out a deep breath and lay back in the grass, arms pillowed under her head. Just a short rest…
    A tremendous crunching sound woke her. Anna opened her eyes, then let out a shriek and scrambled back, away from the long muzzle with enormous teeth chomping the grasses beside her head.
    The horse—for indeed, it was—gave a sharp whinny and bobbed its head.
    “Here now,” a deep male voice said. “What have you found, Windsor? A new kind of squawking bird, come to roost at Wildering Hall?”
    A tall, sandy-haired man rounded the horse. When he saw Anna sprawled in the grass, his eyebrows went up, and his green eyes lit with amusement.
    She hastily scrambled to her feet, then met his gaze directly. “I’d thank you to control your horse, sir.”
    They both glanced at Windsor. Although he was an imposing creature—very large and black—he was browsing placidly. She felt her cheeks warm. Clearly she had been in no danger. It was just the abruptness of her waking that had set her nerves on edge.
    “Indeed.” The man shook his head. His solemn expression was spoiled by the smile that teased the corners of his mouth. “He’s a terrible menace. My apologies, miss.”
    “No matter—I’d best get back to my duties.”
    Should she drop him a curtsy? The stranger was not particularly finely dressed. Certainly not in such a fashionable state as Giles Wildering—and his rugged features did not compare in the least to the master of the house. The man’s cravat was hardly tied, and his coat was worn at the cuffs. Not gentry.
    So, then, would a maid curtsy to a groom? Anna smoothed her hands down her cotton skirts. Drat, there was so much she did not know about her supposed station in life.
    The man tilted one eyebrow up, and she dropped her gaze, realizing she had been staring at him longer than was proper.
    “Don’t let me keep you,” he said.
    “Of course not. Good