War Chest: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 5 by Lynne Connolly

down the furniture for her, but the smaller items she could take herself. Some pap feeders, essential for weaning, more linen cloths, and some gowns for the boys, loose and comfortable in this hot weather. She wiped the sweat from her forehead. Here, under the leads, the heat stifled her. She’d be glad to get out of here.
    She needed something else—sewing materials. She’d brought but a small set of needles and silks with her, more suited for minor mending tasks. Perhaps she could mend some household items for the duke while she was here. Who on earth did the mending and the laundry here? Surely not those housemaids, whose work must be cut out keeping the house clean and orderly.
    She had so many questions. That put her in mind of what the duke wanted for that night. The thought of his game sent butterflies rioting in her stomach. After a few days when he did not demand her presence, she assumed he had forgotten his whim, but it seemed not.
    Picking up the clothes she’d selected, she scurried down the stairs, glad to get out of the heat.
    She spent the afternoon altering a gown and supervising the installation of the replacement cradles. The gown was old-fashioned, the box pleats at the back only sewn down to the shoulder blades, so she completed the stitching in the modern style, sewing them down to the waist. She fitted them over her smaller side hoops, and although the material billowed a bit, it was acceptable. It was in a lightweight silk, the fabric a pretty blue and much more suitable for the weather. She found a stomacher to match, the plainest she could discover.
    Andrea nodded when Ruth reappeared in her new gown. The nursemaid behaved perfectly amicably to her, but at no time did Ruth believe she could make a friend of her fellow worker. A colleague, perhaps. Andrea kept her private thoughts to herself and Ruth could not break through that final part.
    So she was alone, but what of that? She’d spent most of her life solitary, in the midst of her family. Apart from Rhea.
    At the appointed hour, neatly attired in the blue silk, she went downstairs, this time arriving on time. Light still streamed through the broad windows on this side of the house as she tapped on the door to the yellow drawing room and went in.
    Not a trace of yellow marked this gracious room. Instead, the walls were draped in green silk, and the sofas upholstered in darker green. The oriental carpet on the floor held no yellow, either. She knew she was in the right place because the duke stood to greet her.
    He stood to greet her.
    That small act made her believe she was a lady again. Nobody ever focussed his attention on her in that way. She swallowed.
    He smiled. “Would you like a drink while they are setting the table? By the way, that is not my question. I’ll tell you when I’m asking that.”
    He’d forced a smile from her. “I would appreciate a glass of wine, sir.”
    “There is some tolerable madeira. Will you take a glass?”
    “Yes, please.” Her voice had grown small and quiet. She cleared her throat.
    He handed her a glass with just enough of the fortified wine, not too much. He’d judged her requirements to a nicety. Then he took her to a sofa and waited until she took her seat before he took his own, on a chair close to her, picking up a glass of brandy already by his side.
    “Miss Carter, I have to compliment you on your fine looks. That colour suits you. I’m pleased you took the opportunity to select something better and more practical for this weather.”
    Even in the late afternoon the warmth permeated the old stones of the house. Her own gowns would have become oppressively hot.
    “Thank you, sir.”
    The door to the dining room opened, and Henstall announced dinner was ready. The duke let her precede him and she did her best to glide in the approved manner, but she was not sure she managed it. Certainly not in the manner of a great society lady. She had no illusions about herself.
    He helped her to sit