Free Marjorie Farrel by Miss Ware's Refusal Page B

at all to you?”
    Simon nodded. “I do not find that hard to understand. And I admire you very much, Judith, and wish you well.”
    Judith left the library feeling comforted by Simon’s sympathy. She left Ashurst the next day and relived the memory of that Christmas holiday many times. Until she had heard Simon’s name again today, however, she had not been fully aware of how well she remembered him. In fact, she realized that someday she would probably have questioned Barbara about him, and that one of the reasons she had been happy to resume her friendship with the Stanleys was a hidden hope that she might one day meet Simon again.
    I am no better than a schoolgirl, she thought. I suppose all along I have been dreaming that we would meet again and that he would immediately fall in love and rescue me from Gower Street. And now I will be going to his house under false pretenses.
    Somehow it seemed all right to daydream occasionally about bumping into Simon at Barbara’s, or of Robin bringing Simon along for one of their rides, for that would have involved no deception other than pretending to have forgotten him, and no action on her part. But to reenter Simon’s life as Miss Ware, taking advantage of his blindness, made her feel a bit guilty. She had originally wanted the position thinking it was someone else. She still wanted it, but was confused about her motives. Was it only to be near the duke again? Could she not have kept looking for another situation? But Robin was so sure that the situation was ideal, since he would get firsthand reports on Simon’s progress. Robin had no second thoughts, but then Robin had never been an impressionable eighteen-year-old who formed an attachment to a good-looking, sympathetic duke.
    Surely that is over, thought Judith. I have lived three years on my own, and am, I hope, matured. I do read well, I certainly care about the duke as a friend, and after all, he may well refuse to interview me.
     

Chapter 9
     
    Two days later, Judith paid the hackney driver and turned toward the duke’s town house. She hesitated, almost ready to jump back in the cab. Why on earth was she here? How could she have imagined this would work? Why had she been so impetuous and presumptuous? She heard the clatter of the horses moving away, and walked up the steps.
    The young footman who opened the door stared at her rudely.
    “Yes, miss? Do you have some business here?”
    “I have an appointment with the duke,” Judith answered tentatively. Perhaps Francis had not been able to get her an interview? “My name is Judith Ware.”
    Francis appeared from behind the footman. “This must be Miss Ware. Come in, his grace is expecting you. I hope you had no trouble getting here?”
    “Oh, no. It is not that great a distance by cab.”
    “Before I bring you in to the library, I would like to speak with you myself. As the duke’s secretary, I screen all applicants for any positions, no matter how highly recommended they come.”
    “Of course,” replied Judith, and followed him into his office.
    “Please be seated, Miss Ware.”
    Francis walked over to the window, his back to Judith. He seemed to be searching for words, and after a moment he turned back to face her.
    “I am not sure you truly understand what this situation will be like, Miss Ware. I understand Major Stanley’s concern for the duke and his frustration at continuously being turned away. I know why you yourself need and want the position. But I am not sure either of you realizes how different the duke is from what you remember. He has hidden himself behind the facade of his rank. He becomes furious at the least condescension. Or, I should say, cuttingly sarcastic, since that is his usual tone these days.”
    “I must confess to feeling some pity,” Judith said, slowly. “Who could not? But I do not think I am here to bolster my sense of usefulness or virtuousness. I think I am aware of the danger in that. And, after all, I am mainly