Chapter 1

"Maggie!"

Maggie looked up, wiping her hair away from her face. The laundry room was really hot, and her hair was sticking to her forehead. She was sure that her face was bright red as well.

"Yes, Mrs Crawford?"

The buxom housekeeper was in the doorway, mopping her face with a handkerchief. The older woman knew better than to enter the laundry room.

"Lady Phoebe is calling for you," she said, pushing the handkerchief into a pocket in her apron. "She's getting more and more upset."

Maggie sighed. Not again. It felt like every time she could do her other chores, Lady Phoebe suddenly needed her. How was she supposed to get everything done when the girl wouldn't let her do everything her position required?

She was sure that her mistress did this on purpose.

"Alright, I'll go to her now." She put the folded laundry on top of the rest of the pile and picked it up. "I'll take this as well. Any idea what she wants of me, Mrs Crawford? I thought she was taking a bath."

"She was. Now I think she's demanding that you dry her off again."

"She's nineteen! She should be able to do it by now."

Mrs Crawford sighed.

"I understand that and sympathize, but you have to do as you're told. We all do. And if Lady Phoebe wants you to help her dry off …"

Maggie bit back a groan. She knew she wasn't in a position to complain - she was a mere maid, nothing more - but how Lady Phoebe Cavendish went about everything was ridiculous. She was finally entering Society after finishing school, and she seemed to think she could get anything she wanted by clicking her fingers. It made Maggie wonder what sort of finishing school she had gone to if she had returned this spoiled.

It was certainly spoiled if you had a bath and demanded a maid to dry you down because you couldn't be bothered to do it yourself.

"I'm beginning to wish I hadn't been so eager to take the position," Maggie muttered as she moved around the housekeeper. "Now I understand why Brenda quit."

Mrs Crawford gave her a smile and shrugged.

"It's the life for us, I'm afraid. We have to do as we're told."

"Within reason. Baron and Baroness Atterbury aren't like this. I don't know what happened with their daughter …"

"And if we keep talking like this, both of us are going to get into trouble. Now, off you go. Hopefully, Lady Phoebe will be too excited about the ball tonight to be too rude to you."

Maggie doubted it. Lady Phoebe was very good at finding time to demean her, almost as if it were her goal in life to be rude to the servants. Her parents had told her to stop, but they hadn't really done anything except a verbal warning. After that, they just left it.

After working for Baron Atterbury's family for six years, Maggie understood why Lady Phoebe was the way she was; her parents just didn't have the backbone to stand up to her. They loved her so much that they couldn't discipline her.

She knew that she shouldn't speak so ill of her employers – and, for the most part, they were lovely people – but they had not pulled their daughter up on her behaviour. And given how respectful Baron and Baroness Atterbury were, Maggie wondered who had told Lady Phoebe that it was appropriate to mistreat the servants.

She doubted that she would ever know.

Maggie made her way up the servants' stairs, barely lifting her feet over the edge of the steps. They were steep, but nothing she couldn't handle. Maggie had managed to figure out a way of getting up the staircase quickly without tripping over. Whoever made the staircase for the servants this steep didn't care that they would be carrying everything and were more likely to have an accident.

Lady Phoebe's suite of rooms was right by the servants' stairs, so it was easy enough to slip into the first room while balancing the piles of clothes in her arms. Maggie laid the folded garments on the bed, planning to put them away once she dealt with Lady Phoebe. How did someone get to nineteen and order someone to rub them down? It didn't make sense.

Heading through into the sitting room that was purposefully for Lady Phoebe alone, Maggie found the girl sitting by the fire, wrapped in towelling linens with a scowl on her face as she stared into the dancing flames. She looked up as Maggie entered.

"Where have you been?" she demanded loudly.

"I was getting the laundry sorted to be brought up." Maggie crossed the room towards her. "You said you wanted me to do that while you bathed."

"And what took you so long? I swear you're so slow."

Maggie didn't say anything. She didn't want to snap back something that would make things worse. It was on the tip of her tongue to retort, but she knew that Lady Phoebe would make her life more difficult than she already did.

It had been six weeks since she was given this position, and normally, Maggie would be grateful. But she just wished that Lady Phoebe was a nicer person.

Lady Phoebe tittered and shook her head, looking Maggie up and down with a sneer.

"I still can't believe that you are actually employed here. You're so dim-witted that it's surprising that you can make proper conversation."

Maggie pressed her lips together, not wanting to get into a verbal altercation. Lady Phoebe was very good at goading her. The girl rolled her eyes and stood up.

"Well, seeing as you've finally arrived, you can dry me off. Although the fire has almost done your job for you."

"Yes, My Lady," Maggie said through gritted teeth.

She approached the girl and proceeded to rub Lady Phoebe down like she was a child. This was probably the most embarrassing part when she had to do these tasks. But Lady Phoebe liked to do this to her. She had done the same to Brenda, according to the previous maid, before she quit and stormed out of the house.

Maggie had heard stories about the baron's only daughter when she first arrived, but she had been in positions where she hadn't witnessed it first-hand. She worked in the kitchens before becoming an upstairs maid, and by that time, Lady Phoebe was at finishing school and barely at home. Then she had been promoted to personal maid, which should have been perfect with what Maggie wanted.

But her mistress was spoiled and mean and liked to taunt and be rude to the household staff. Nobody would tolerate her, but nobody could say anything to put her in her place because she went screaming to her parents, who would pander to her requests. Nobody had been fired because they had stood up to her yet, but Brenda was not the first person to quit because of Lady Phoebe.

It was a surprise that the baron was able to hire staff at all, given that everyone knew about his spoiled daughter, who was incredibly horrible to people around her.

"That's better, I suppose," Lady Phoebe said as Maggie helped her into her robe, the girl tying a knot in the belt around her waist. "Now I have to get ready for the ball. It's very important that I'm looking my best, and I'll ensure that everyone looks at me. Do you think you can do that, or are you too stupid to know how to make a girl look her best?"

Maggie mentally counted to ten in her head as they went from the sitting room to the bedchamber. Lady Phoebe shot a sharp look over her shoulder.

"I know you can speak, Maggie. Or do you want me to speak slower so you can understand?"

"I will do what you ask me to do so you can stand up on your debut ball, My Lady."

Lady Phoebe sniffed and stalked over to the dresser. However, she slowed as she passed the bed and saw the folded clothes.

"Really, Maggie? You couldn't even put these away? It's making my room look untidy!"

"You wanted my presence immediately, My Lady."

"That's no excuse! You should have put these away immediately." Sighing heavily, Lady Phoebe rolled her eyes and turned away. "Never mind. Get that done as soon as you've got me ready. Making me look stunning is more important. But you'd better move faster."

Maggie wished she could tell the girl that she wouldn't get what she wanted in life if she carried on like this, but she didn't. Lady Phoebe was consistently rude and disrespectful, even to her parents.

If she carried on like this with members of the ton, it would not be tolerated. Maggie had witnessed people being shunned for less. Lady Phoebe constantly talked about being the one at the centre of attention. She would be right, but not for the reasons she thought.

As much as she disliked the girl, Maggie hoped she wouldn't do anything stupid that would make her parents embarrassed. She would not be ready to deal with that, and Lady Phoebe would blame everyone else except herself if that were the case.

"Well?" Lady Phoebe snapped, sitting down at the dresser. She glared at Maggie in the mirror. "Are you going to do my hair, or are you just going to stand staring at nothing like a fool?"

"Don't you want to get yourself dressed first, My Lady? I don't want to mess your hair up."

Lady Phoebe's eyes narrowed.

"Are you talking back to me, Maggie?"

"I would never do such a thing," Maggie replied blandly. "I just want to be sure that your hair …"

"My hair will be perfectly fine. If anything happens, it's your fault." Lady Phoebe shook her head. "Just be quiet and do my hair. I'll tell you what I want with it."

Maggie inwardly sighed. She knew that this would end badly, and she would have to redo Lady Phoebe's hair again once she was fully dressed, and naturally, she would get the blame. Nothing was ever Lady Phoebe's fault.

She knew she shouldn't think ill of someone she worked for, but it was hard to be pleasant about someone as unpleasant as Phoebe Cavendish. Maggie approached the dresser and picked up the hairbrush.

"What sort of style were you thinking of, My Lady?"

#

Adam looked at himself in the mirror and scowled. God, why did he have to wear this? He hadn't approved of it when he went for the fitting but only agreed because his mother insisted that he had clothing more suited to a duke than a duke's son. Now, he wished he had said that he didn't like it. This was certainly not his style.

At least his other garments were comfortable.

"You need to stop standing there scowling, Adam," Lady Banbury said as she sat on the chaise by the fire, holding a glass of water. "You'll get premature gray hairs if you always look grumpy."

Adam arched an eyebrow at her.

"Do you really think that's possible, Ma? Or are you just saying it to cheer me up?"

"It was meant to be a way to make you laugh, but from the way things are going, I think it might just be possible." The Dowager Duchess of Banbury peered at him. "You can't go to a ball like that and look as if you're having a horrible time."

"Why did you make me get a new suit, anyway, Ma?" Adam adjusted the jacket again. It fit him perfectly, but something about it made him itchy. "This is not something I would wear at all."

"It's not different from your current one now."

"But fashion moves so fast nowadays that I can barely keep up."

Lady Banbury sighed and shook her head.

"Honestly, Adam, you're a grown man, but I swear you're like a child at times. There's nothing wrong with the suit, and you know it."

Adam glared at her, but his mother didn't blink, simply giving him a cool gaze in return. It wasn't often that he saw the formidable woman that she could be nowadays, but when he did, it reminded him that she wasn't always so genial. Lady Banbury could give her opinion when needed, although that wasn't lately.

Ever since his father, the last Duke of Banbury, passed away, the dowager duchess had been mourning, hiding away from the outside world as Society dictated. She had barely been outside the house, never mind off the estate, and her former glory had been severely dampened. Adam could understand that – he missed his father dearly as well – but it was easier said than done to sympathize now he had to fill the shoes that had been left behind.

Why was he the one who had to enter Society again six months after his father's death while his mother could stay in mourning for longer? Adam would have been happy to stay in mourning, but he had been reminded that he had a dukedom to look after and had to show his face to the ton. He didn't have the luxury despite going through his usual mourning period.

If only he could hide away for a little longer. It was too stressful, and it felt like all eyes were on him.

"It's because of that girl, isn't it?" Lady Banbury asked.

"What are you talking about, Ma?"

"Lady Melinda Cornish. You're concerned about your acquaintance with her and taking it out on your suit." His mother raised her eyebrows. "I'm right, aren't I?"

Adam didn't know how the dowager duchess had come to that conclusion, but he wasn't about to argue with it. If he were being honest with himself, she was right. Sighing, he turned away from the mirror and went to join his mother.

"It's not that I'm concerned about being acquainted with her," he said as he sat down on the chaise, slumping back on the cushions. "It's just with everyone pushing the two of us together all the time, and I feel like I'm not getting a say in it all."

"I'm afraid that's what happens with things like this," Lady Banbury said. "We're going to end up doing things that we're uncomfortable with because it's what is dictated to us by Society."

"Society can go to …"

"Adam!" His mother swatted his arm. "You might be a duke now, but that doesn't mean you can talk in such a brash manner."

Adam rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure you've heard my father say worse. I'm very aware that he could swear like a sailor once he got going."

"Never in my earshot. He knew that I would more than scold him for speaking in such a way." Lady Banbury frowned. "Although I can understand your misgivings about Lady Melinda. She's rather … young and … well, she's young."

Adam gave a mirthless smile.

"You were going to say she's a pain and a spoiled brat, weren't you?"

"Not in so many words …" Lady Banbury sighed and took a sip of her water. "Alright, she is. I didn't want to be impolite. She is just a child, after all. Barely twenty years of age, and she behaves like she's so much younger. If her father wasn't who he was …"

Adam didn't need her to finish the sentence. Lady Melinda Cornish was the daughter of the Earl of Ascot, and it was clear that the earl was eager to have her married. After meeting her, Adam could understand why.

Lady Melinda was rude and spoiled, and her behaviour grated on his nerves. The few interactions they had had were both boring and uncomfortable. Adam had always tried to find a reason to leave. He knew that Ascot wanted his daughter to marry well, and now he was a newly titled duke, Adam was an ideal catch.

That was another thing about becoming a duke; he had a target on his back for those who thought their daughters were perfect for being his duchess. Adam didn't want to marry because someone thought they were good together. If he had marriage on his mind, it would be better to have it with someone who cared about him and wanted to be with him rather than who was in love with his title and what came with it.

As it was, Adam wasn't interested in getting married for a while. Not when he had more important things to navigate. Mostly his own dukedom and getting himself used to his new responsibilities. Even in mourning, he had had six months to get himself situated, and it was still a struggle. Adam wasn't about to add finding a wife at the same time.

Thankfully, his mother knew that, and Adam was grateful. He wouldn't be able to manage if the dowager duchess was not on his side.

"Well, maybe you'll be able to find someone else who you could make the acquaintance of," Lady Banbury suggested.

Adam sighed. So much for thinking that his mother was on his side.

"I'm not looking to marry anyone, Ma. I don't want to think about that right now."

"I know, and I'm not saying that. But there's always a possibility." Lady Banbury smiled. "I mean, take Baron Atterbury's ball tonight. He's introducing his daughter to Society now that she's come home from finishing school. Perhaps you might find that she's more interesting to be around."

Adam grunted.

"I don't know about that."

"You don't know until you try. You never know. She might be someone you like."

Adam doubted. He had heard rumours about Lady Phoebe Cavendish already. Despite having never met her, he had a friend whose sister had gone to the same finishing school and graduated a couple of years ahead.

Lady Phoebe had a reputation of being a snobbish brat who couldn't understand why she was treated the same as everyone else. She understood her lessons but had an attitude that nobody liked, yet Lady Phoebe was sure that everyone loved her.

It had been a couple of years since he had heard anything about her, though. Maybe she had grown up and turned into a proper lady. It was a possibility. Although she was apparently nineteen years of age, which was a little older for introducing a woman to Society. Adam didn't want to speculate, but that didn't bode well for Lady Phoebe if she was looking for a husband; there would be a lot of pressure on her.

As long as her father didn't try to push her towards Adam like the Earl of Ascot did, it was nothing to do with him.

"I guess I won't know until I actually meet her," Adam conceded, "but I'm sure it's not going to happen."

Lady Banbury sighed.

"You're far too pessimistic, do you know that, Adam?"

"Given what we've been through in recent months, is that really surprising?"

"But you're supposed to be trying to move forward, to bring some joy into your life." Lady Banbury gestured at herself. "You don't want to be locked away in the house like I am, wondering if I'm ever going to feel joy again."

Adam touched his mother's hand.

"You will feel joy again, Ma. You've managed to smile again recently. I know it will happen."

"I'll feel joy if I could have my husband back again," Lady Banbury said stoutly. "He's what I want."

Adam could understand that. Despite everything and starting out as an arranged marriage, his parents had loved each other dearly. And both had been incredibly healthy, so having his father become sick and pass away not long after had been a shock to everyone. The dowager duchess, certainly, had taken it the hardest. Adam couldn't blame her for wanting her husband back.

He wanted his father back. Then he wouldn't have to be the duke and have people push their daughters onto him.

"Anyway, you'd better get going before you start scowling at yourself in the mirror all evening. I'm sure it wouldn't do for the Duke of Banbury to be late."

"It's because I'm the Duke of Banbury that I can get away with it." Adam leaned over and kissed his mother on the cheek. "Are you going to be alright, Ma? You don't need anything before I leave."

"Oh, for goodness sake, be off with you." Lady Banbury gave him a little push as he stood up. "We've got servants, so you don't need to hover over me all evening."

"But if you want me to stay …"

"You need to go. You've been invited, and it would be rude not to turn up, especially with no notice."

"Ma …"

"Just go. I'm sure Lady Phoebe is not as bad as you're imagining. You might even enjoy yourself tonight."

Adam didn't know about that. In fact, he felt he would be better off staying at home. Something told him that there was going to be a lot of drama tonight.

Adam preferred to keep away from drama as much as he could. Nothing good came out of it.

Much like the issues happening around the estate in recent months. Adam hadn't told his mother about them, not wanting to worry her about the recent spate of burglaries and the vandalism on the outhouses. Adam had sworn the staff who had seen it to secrecy, not wanting Lady Banbury to know that things were not as they should be.

There was too much drama at home without an end in sight. Adam didn't want to deal with it while he was out socializing with people who made him grit his teeth.