The Emerald Duchess by Barbara Hazard Read Free Book Online

drawled, looking her up and down in open appraisal. “How strange that I mistook you for a lady. I am so seldom wrong.”
    Emily was angry at his insolent words and those probing eyes, which seemed to see right through her clothes; and she forgot her station to say in a cold voice, “I have never heard, sir, that being a lady is reserved only for the upper classes. Indeed, I have often found that there are several of the haut ton who are sadly lacking in common courtesy and good manners.”
    She raised her chin and gave him a sparkling look of scorn. At the expression of arrested surprise on his arrogant face, she remembered her situation and lowered her eyes in confusion.
    “Come, Nelly,” Lady Quentin called from the coach window, “we must be off. Have a care for my dressing case, mind!”
    Emily turned to do her bidding without another word, being careful not to look into those cold black eyes again. As she moved toward the coach, she heard the stranger muse, “I cannot recall being treated to such a severe setdown in my entire life—and from such an unexpected quarter as well. My congratulations, ma’am.”
    Somehow, for the remainder of the ride, Emily found her thoughts returning again and again to the arrogant stranger. He looked so familiar, and yet she was sure she had never known him, even though his type was familiar to her after her two years of servitude. He had all the insolence of the well-born and even more pronounced than most, and the sneering disregard for the feelings of inferior people she had grown accustomed to. She stared out at the bleak countryside they were passing through. It looked so cold and forbidding under its thin blanket of snow that it reminded her of the expression on his haughty face. Clasping Lady Quentin’s jewel case tightly, she could only hope that their paths would not cross again.
    At last, some hours later, they drove up the long drive to Hartley Hall, a huge pile of ivy-covered gray stone with narrow windows, whose turrets and towers proclaimed its age. For the next several hours, Emily was too busy to think of the stranger again. She barely had time to glance at the small room up under the roof that she was to share with another maid, or even to unpack her bags, for she was summoned by Lady Quentin to help her change for tea. And then, of course, she had to unpack the lady’s trunks and portmanteaus. Several of her gowns had become sadly crushed; she set them aside to be ironed.
    At dinner in the servant’s hall, she made the acquaintance of the dresser who would share her room. Miss Hentershee was a middle-aged woman with sandy hair, very slim and neat, but somehow she seemed worn and fragile. They sat next to each other at the table, and Emily was amused at the rigid protocol that was followed; the upper servants at the head and foot of the table, and all the others in ranks down the sides, according to their jobs. Next to her on the other side was an older upstairs maid who stared at her dark-blue gown with envy, but spoke not a word.
    The butler said grace and the plates were served. There was no general conversation; grooms spoke to grooms while valets and dressers exchanged a few words. Emily discovered that there were some twenty guests expected, with more to attend a gala ball to be given shortly after Boxing Day. These additional guests would spend the night as well, and since each guest had at least two servants, and in some cases as many as four, the servant’s hall would be crowded.
    After the meat course, the butler gave the signal for the upper servants to retire to the housekeeper’s room for their pudding and cheese. Emily was glad that the food had been plentiful, if somewhat plainly cooked. She would need her strength, for this was not a compact, modern house. There were miles of passageways and stairs to travel, and she knew Lady Quentin would demand the same instant attention she had become used to in town.
    In the days that followed, Emily was