Abruptly turning away, Avery cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back. “It is of no consequence.” Keeping his gaze trained on a stack of bowls, he fought to regain his composure. What had this woman done to him?

“I hate to even ask you this.” Her voice was thin and small. “Would you mind checking the scullery? To see if it had any, er, friends in there.”

Without comment, Avery turned and walked into the scullery.

Pots and dishes were piled everywhere, mostly clean but for a pile of largish pots to one side of the washbasin. He stooped to pick up a half-scrubbed pot from the stones of the floor. This must have been the crash he’d heard when entering the kitchen. He set the pot upright by the basin and examined the corners of the room.

“There is no sign of any eight-legged compatriots, madam. I should think you are safe.”

“Are you sure?” Her pale face peered around the corner of the doorjamb.

“Quite certain.”

She entered the room slowly, eyes darting this way and that, as if she didn’t quite trust his report. He said not a word as she moved with arms crossed tightly over her middle to stand in the center of the room.

“Thank you.” She didn’t look up at him as she spoke. “Again, I’m really sorry about that. I just can’t handle spiders. I’m not normally such a wimp, so please don’t think I can’t do this, okay?”

“What do you mean?”

She gestured to the mound of dishes. “I know you and Cook are risking a lot by getting me this job. I can handle it, I promise. I don’t want you to think because I wigged out over a huge, monstrously awful spider that I can’t hack this job.” She nodded and straightened her spine. “I’m kind of a bad ass, when I need to be.”

He smothered the smile her odd words brought to his face. “I have no doubt that you are.” He turned to leave the room.

“Hey, where are you going?”

His feet stilled, and he looked back at her. She stood tall, but uncertainty still shadowed her eyes.

“I missed the evening meal. I had intended to find food.”

“Oh,” she said. “Okay.” She turned back to her washbasin, and he moved to leave the room but stopped when she spoke again. Her voice was soft, uncertain.

“You could eat in here if you wanted. I’ve got to finish these pots before I go to bed, and it wouldn’t be so lonely if you were in here. You don’t have to talk to me or anything, if you don’t want to. Just be here, if you wanted to, that is.” She looked over her shoulder at him, and her wide, anxious eyes softened something in his chest.

“As you wish,” he said, and turned to leave the room.

* * *

Leah stared down into the dishwater, wishing it were physically possible to kick herself in the ass. What a completely stupid way to react to an itty-bitty spider! Well, it had been pretty sizeable, she argued with herself.

And for Avery to have seen her like that, completely overcome with panic over something so trivial? He must think she was a total wuss. But she wasn’t. She muscled the largest pot over to the basin, just to remind herself she was tough. She grabbed the brush and started scrubbing, punctuating each mental point with another stroke of the coarse bristles. She was a strong, independent woman. She’d built sets for the community theatre, all by herself. She’d made her own iPhone app. She’d beat Skyrim within a month of its release. But, she thought as she dropped the scrub brush down into the basin, at the sight of an eight-legged bug, she was a complete ninny. A brainless, spineless lump of humanity.

But she kept her head up and kept moving. She hadn’t gotten this far in life by giving up. Well, not that she’d gotten too far, honestly. But she was a self-sufficient adult, and that counted for something, right?

“The scullery maid should be doing this washing.” Avery’s voice came from behind her. A scraping of wood against the stone floor accompanied his voice. “Why were you pressed into this duty?”

Redoubling her scrubbing efforts, Leah looked down into the pot instead of back at Avery. She couldn’t tell him it was because she’d been late for supper. His I-told-you-so had to be more irritating than the usual. “Mrs. Harper said that the scullery maids were on vacation, or holiday, whatever.”

“Are you still expected to do the duties of underhousemaid in the morning?”

She nodded and frowned down at a stubborn bit of burnt-on food. No matter how she scrubbed, it clung to the bottom of the pot like Scrooge with his last nickel. “Stubborn piece of shit,” she muttered.

“I beg your pardon?” Avery’s voice was just behind her head.

Startled, she dropped the brush into the washbasin. The resulting splash soaked the chest of her apron and dress. She staggered backward, straight into the surprised valet.

He sprang away as if burned, and she stumbled to catch herself before she fell on her ass. Crap, she spent a lot of time not being graceful in front of him.

Good thing he wasn’t her destined true love. He’d have run away screaming by now if he was.

“Damn it,” she cursed, wiping at her front. “I’m sorry. I’m not normally such a klutz.” She looked up at him, confusion and helplessness leaking out of her ears. “It’s just late, and it’s been a really long day, and I…”

“Hush,” he interrupted her. The corner of his mouth twitched, almost like he wanted to smile, but he didn’t. Good thing, too. She’d have had to belt the shit out of him or burst into tears. “Sit just there, by the fire. It will dry your clothing. Finish that bread and cheese if you’ve a mind to.”

He unbuttoned his cuffs and began methodically rolling the fabric up his muscled forearms. Leah swallowed hard at the purely innocent sight. Damn, the man had some nice arms, even though they bore some purpling bruises. Corded with muscle, they flexed with the simplest movements. Did valets do that much heavy lifting?

“You’re not going to wash the dishes for me. It’s not your job,” she protested, but he shook his head.

“It is of no consequence. We’ll have them done in a trice, and you can find your bed afterward.”

“Oh gosh,” Leah said, dropping her forehead to the table in front of her with a moan. “I forgot I’ve got to be up at the ass crack of dawn in the morning.”

Avery barked a laugh, nearly scaring the shit out of her.

“What did you say?”

“The ass crack of dawn,” Leah said, laughing at Avery’s shocked expression. “It’s my somewhat colorful description for getting up too damn early.”

He cleared his throat, smothered his smile with a more neutral expression, and continued scrubbing the next-to-last pot. “As amusing as your description is, I’d suggest you not use it around the other servants. They should probably not enjoy it as much as I.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Leah said, smiling down at the cheese sandwich she was making. A sideways glimpse at the valet revealed that he was hard at work removing grime from what looked like a witch’s cauldron. And it wasn’t even his job; he just wanted to help her.

“Thank you for helping me.” Her words came out without thought, but she was glad they had.

He didn’t turn, but she thought his shoulders relaxed slightly. She popped a crust of bread into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully before speaking again. “So how did you end up here? Always wanted to be a valet?”

He paused in his scrubbing to laugh. “Not as such, no.” The sound of bristles on metal resumed. “I had some little experience in grand houses before this one. My former employment rendered me unfit for service to most. But His Grace took a liking to me, so here I am.”

Leah sat back against the wooden slats. “So what did you do before that made you ‘unfit’ to most?” She made air quotes, even though his back was turned.

“I worked with my hands.”

The answer was cryptic, but his tone was even more so. Leah pursed her lips. “Like, making things?”

His laugh this time was bitter. “No, not at all.” He didn’t give her a chance to ask a follow-up. “It is of no consequence. What is your occupation in the land behind the wardrobe?”

Leah smiled. “That makes it sound like I lived in Narnia, which would have been awesome. But no. I’m an elementary school drama teacher.” She pinched off another bite of bread. “I’ve got a great group of kids, and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. I mean, who else gets to play pretend for their nine-to-five?”

Water splashed as Avery emptied the pot. His muscles strained against the damp cotton of his sleeves as he lifted the large iron thing. “I am sure that the children enjoy their lessons with such a lovely teacher.”

Leah’s heart thudded at the compliment, but Avery didn’t turn. He merely wiped the pot down with a rag and continued washing up. She took a bite of the food he’d given her, just because she didn’t know what else to say. It would have been so much easier if Avery could be the duke. But even though he’d been sweet and had just called her lovely, he wasn’t exactly coming on to her. She’d spent a lot of time in the friend zone, and this was shaping up to be that kind of friendship, sadly.

She swallowed methodically, flicking a little crumb from the corner of the table. As handsome as Avery was, she was here to romance the duke himself. That had to be it. She’d win his heart and waltz back through the mirror with her perfect man in tow. She hoped.

Eight

When Leah and Avery parted ways at the top of the stairs, it was one o’clock. After that single compliment, he’d kept the conversation light, never venturing into the territory again. It had been a little disappointing, but even so, she’d really enjoyed talking with the strong, quiet man. She watched as he disappeared down the corridor, moving slowly. Must be his bruises hurting him. She shook her head. Shouldn’t have let him finish the pots.