Moira’s battered face, bobbing a curtsy only after a nudge from Jack. “Good morning, milady. I’ll do my best to please you. Sir Jack said you’d been in an accident.”
Moira sent Jack a startled look. He knew she was no “milady.” But his warning glance told her to dispute nothing he did.
“Aye, a carriage accident,” Moira said truthfully. “I’m sure we’ll get along fine, Jilly.”
“Is there anything you’d like, milady?”
“A bath,” Moira requested. “If that’s possible,” she added, sending an inquiring glance at Jack.
“’Tis indeed possible. Find Pettibone, Jilly. He’ll carry up the tub and show you where things are kept. It will take a few days to learn your way around this pile of stone. Goalong with you now, and take the empty tray with you to the kitchen.”
Jilly bobbed another curtsy, took the tray from Moira’s lap and all but ran from the room in her anxiety to please.
“If you don’t like her, we’ll find someone else,” Jack said.
“Jilly will do fine. I’m uncomfortable being waited upon. If not for my injury, I’d not even need a maid.”
“A maid is necessary for propriety’s sake,” Jack intoned dryly. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m responsible for your broken arm and sundry bruises. Now, is there anything else you’d like?”
“Aye. When can I get out of bed? I’m unaccustomed to lying about. I’d like my clothing back.”
He sent her an assessing glance. She did look better, he conceded. Her bruises were fading, and the swelling about her face was receding. “Did Dr. Dudley stop by yesterday?”
“Aye. He said things were progressing nicely and that the pneumonia he feared hasn’t materialized. He put a cast on my arm and said it could come off in four weeks.”
“Then I suppose you could get up and move about for short intervals, but don’t tire yourself. I’ll instruct Pettibone to return your clothing. I believe he had them cleaned and mended. Which leads to another problem. You’re going to need clothes in keeping with your new station in life.”
“My station?” Moira asked tartly. “I assume you’re referring to the station you and Lord Fenwick created.”
“Aye, milady,” Jack said, sending her a mocking grin. “Henceforth you are to be addressed as Lady Moira Greeley. O’Toole is too common a name. Since we are to work together closely, I will call you Moira and you may call me Jack. Now that that’s settled, I’ll summon a mantua maker to measure you for an appropriate wardrobe.”
“I don’t like this. Can’t you get into trouble?”
Jack gave a shout of laughter. “Who is there to refute my claim that you are a distant relative? Unless,” he addedominously, “there is something you’re not telling me. What about your former employers? Will they recognize you if you meet them at a social function?”
“My former employers are elderly and rarely attend social functions,” Moira said. “Even if they did, they might not recognize me dressed in fancy clothing.” She thought it best not to mention Lord Roger, since in all likelihood he was still abroad.
“Then I see nothing to hinder our plans. Once you’re properly dressed and versed in the finer points of etiquette, I’ll introduce you to society. If you’re up to it, we’ll start tomorrow on your lessons. Can you play an instrument? Or sing? Or dance?”
“I play the harpsichord and sing,” Moira said with pride. “But I never learned to dance.”
Jack was stunned. Not only did Moira speak like gentry, but she was taught to play an instrument and sing. Why had her parents educated her beyond her station? There was a mystery here somewhere; he just had to figure it out. “I’ll teach you to dance myself.”
Their conversation came to a halt when Pettibone arrived with the tub. “I’ll bring hot water directly, milady.”
“I’ll leave you to your bath,” Jack said, turning away. Just the thought of Moira in her bath made him break
Moira sent Jack a startled look. He knew she was no “milady.” But his warning glance told her to dispute nothing he did.
“Aye, a carriage accident,” Moira said truthfully. “I’m sure we’ll get along fine, Jilly.”
“Is there anything you’d like, milady?”
“A bath,” Moira requested. “If that’s possible,” she added, sending an inquiring glance at Jack.
“’Tis indeed possible. Find Pettibone, Jilly. He’ll carry up the tub and show you where things are kept. It will take a few days to learn your way around this pile of stone. Goalong with you now, and take the empty tray with you to the kitchen.”
Jilly bobbed another curtsy, took the tray from Moira’s lap and all but ran from the room in her anxiety to please.
“If you don’t like her, we’ll find someone else,” Jack said.
“Jilly will do fine. I’m uncomfortable being waited upon. If not for my injury, I’d not even need a maid.”
“A maid is necessary for propriety’s sake,” Jack intoned dryly. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m responsible for your broken arm and sundry bruises. Now, is there anything else you’d like?”
“Aye. When can I get out of bed? I’m unaccustomed to lying about. I’d like my clothing back.”
He sent her an assessing glance. She did look better, he conceded. Her bruises were fading, and the swelling about her face was receding. “Did Dr. Dudley stop by yesterday?”
“Aye. He said things were progressing nicely and that the pneumonia he feared hasn’t materialized. He put a cast on my arm and said it could come off in four weeks.”
“Then I suppose you could get up and move about for short intervals, but don’t tire yourself. I’ll instruct Pettibone to return your clothing. I believe he had them cleaned and mended. Which leads to another problem. You’re going to need clothes in keeping with your new station in life.”
“My station?” Moira asked tartly. “I assume you’re referring to the station you and Lord Fenwick created.”
“Aye, milady,” Jack said, sending her a mocking grin. “Henceforth you are to be addressed as Lady Moira Greeley. O’Toole is too common a name. Since we are to work together closely, I will call you Moira and you may call me Jack. Now that that’s settled, I’ll summon a mantua maker to measure you for an appropriate wardrobe.”
“I don’t like this. Can’t you get into trouble?”
Jack gave a shout of laughter. “Who is there to refute my claim that you are a distant relative? Unless,” he addedominously, “there is something you’re not telling me. What about your former employers? Will they recognize you if you meet them at a social function?”
“My former employers are elderly and rarely attend social functions,” Moira said. “Even if they did, they might not recognize me dressed in fancy clothing.” She thought it best not to mention Lord Roger, since in all likelihood he was still abroad.
“Then I see nothing to hinder our plans. Once you’re properly dressed and versed in the finer points of etiquette, I’ll introduce you to society. If you’re up to it, we’ll start tomorrow on your lessons. Can you play an instrument? Or sing? Or dance?”
“I play the harpsichord and sing,” Moira said with pride. “But I never learned to dance.”
Jack was stunned. Not only did Moira speak like gentry, but she was taught to play an instrument and sing. Why had her parents educated her beyond her station? There was a mystery here somewhere; he just had to figure it out. “I’ll teach you to dance myself.”
Their conversation came to a halt when Pettibone arrived with the tub. “I’ll bring hot water directly, milady.”
“I’ll leave you to your bath,” Jack said, turning away. Just the thought of Moira in her bath made him break
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