Free Heartless by Jaimey Grant

reason. There were yards of table between each of the guests.
    The duchess invited Martin to join them. Amusement danced through her eyes as looks of horror passed between the dowager and her daughters. How galling they must find it to have to sit down with a servant!
    Leandra sighed and wished the duke was there. For some reason, she’d been unable to stop thinking about him. She barely knew him and yet she found herself constantly doing things that she hoped would please him. And praying the things she did that would not please him were never discovered.
    The duchess rose to withdraw to the drawing room. Martin stood as she did and she gave him a sympathetic look. She would not ask him to join them. She whispered to Stark to give Martin whatever he wanted to drink. He’d more than earned it.
    As soon as the doors of the drawing room closed, the ladies started in on her.
    “You are far too lenient with your servants, Merri. Why, I saw a fat housemaid. I do believe she is stealing food,” the dowager informed her haughtily while seating herself regally in a chair by the glowing fire.
    “You have not the least knowledge of how to conduct yourself, Merri. You should let me help. Schuster’s home was at sixes and sevens when I arrived and I managed to fix everything,” Lady Schuster told her with a smirk as she went to the piano in the corner and sat down to play.
    “You have no sense of fashion, Merri. You should dismiss your abigail and hire one that knows what she is about,” young Lady Harwood complained as she adjusted the skirts of her charming lemon yellow satin evening gown.
    These comments were all said at the same time.
    Michaella stared at them all as if they were sideshow freaks at Bartholomew Fair. “What are you all talking about? Merri has done a lovely job with her new social status.”
    “It’s quite all right, Michaella,” smiled Leandra. “They are only concerned for my well-being.”
    She turned her attention back to the other three ladies. “The housemaid you saw is not fat, she is expecting. I conduct myself very well, from all I have heard and observed. And Liza is an excellent abigail.” With that, Leandra sat down on the settee next to Michaella and took up her needlework, ignoring her spiteful female relatives.
    Thankfully, everyone was more than willing to avoid any type of socially correct conversation and so avoided any type of talk at all. Lady Schuster played the piano with skill and soon the dowager was dozing in her chair by the fire. Lady Harwood had found a book that seemed to hold her interest and Michaella watched Leandra ply her needle, asking questions once in a while about a certain type of stitch that she herself had had particular trouble over. Considering her own lack of skill in that department, Leandra knew her sister’s questions for the distraction they were, and she loved her all the more for it.
    Fifteen minutes later, shouts could be heard coming from the Great Hall. Leandra looked up and the color drained from her face. Such a gamut of emotions swept through her that she didn’t know quite what she felt. Surprise, relief, and unease each took their turn on her mobile features.
    Servants could be heard rushing here and there, while commands from the Starks rose above all the furor.
    “I told you that you are far too lenient,” said the dowager, thin lips stretched into a smug grin.
    But Leandra wasn’t listening. She tossed her sewing aside and flew to the door, flinging it open and darting down the corridor. She didn’t stop until she was in the Great Hall.
    The Duke of Derringer stood before the main stairs with his arms crossed over his broad chest, staring in Leandra’s direction. His black eyes were hooded and his expression grim.
    “Oh, Hart, you’re home. Thank God!” And Leandra threw herself at him without so much as a by-your-leave.
    Quick wits and quicker reflexes served Derringer well. He opened his arms at just the right moment and caught