A Rogue in the Making (Forever Yours #11)- Stacy Reid Page 0,3

he might be as underhanded as he had been yesterday. After taking dinner in her room on a tray, she had woken in a carriage, headed for God’s know where with a smug Matthew inside.

She tamped down a burgeoning sense of panic. Juliana needed the space and time to think and craft a plan. God, her coat and bonnet had to be left behind. She rushed toward the large sash windows, pushed the lacy drapes to one side, then shoved the lower window open. She swung a leg up the ledge and clambered through it into the pelting rain. It was challenging with her wide skirts and petticoats. Still, she managed to escape without tearing her now somewhat bedraggled gown. She did not bother to close the window behind her or look back. Within minutes she was soaked and trembling. Juliana quickly ran along the side of the townhouse and through a small wrought iron gate into the streets. A speeding carriage lumbered by and splashed puddles of water onto her dress. She opened the large black umbrella, violently shaking under the chill of the rain.

Recalling that the second gentleman Robert had directed her to trust lived close by, she walked as fast as she could, head bent low to avoid the stinging rain against her face. It had been her fortune Lord Prendergast had not withdrawn to the country. Juliana hoped she would have similar luck with the Earl of Rawlings. Several minutes passed before she arrived in Berkeley Square, looking like a drowned cat. The umbrella provided little protection against the sleeting rain and winds. Marching up to the front door, she knocked several times and waited.

The door opened, and the butler loomed a displeasing look on his face.

“I’m Miss Juliana Pryce and—”

“Go around to the servant’s entrance,” he clipped, then closed the door in her face.

Juliana spluttered. “How abominably rude!”

Clearly, this man was an indication of a master with a similar temperament. Or Lord Rawlings most certainly did not have his staff in hand. Still, she obeyed, desperate to escape the chilling downpour. Reaching the servant’s entrance, she knocked and was allowed to enter a large kitchen that immediately enveloped her in warmth.

“You are soaked through, aren’t you?” A plump-faced woman asked, dusting off her apron. “Tis a sorry sight you are, and too late.”

“Too late?” Juliana asked, standing still in the puddle she made on the stone floor. It was a relief to see a friendly face.

“Aren’t you here for the housekeeper position? It was filled over two hours ago. The only vacancy is for milord’s valet, and it needs to be filled right away since he’ll need to depart tomorrow.”

“Oh, I am not here for a job,” she hurriedly assured the nice woman who seemed to be the cook. “I wish an audience with the earl. It is most urgent!”

“You and everybody,” the cook muttered, walking over to a large wooden board, and started to chop shallots with impressive speed.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You will just have to stand in line like everybody else and wait till milord is available. He is off somewhere, and it might take weeks for him to surface.”

Her heart sank. “He is not here?”

“He’s here all right, but he’s not here if you know what I mean.”

Juliana most certainly did not, and she stared at the woman, decidedly baffled. “I do not understand.”

“Milord’s nose is buried in one of his books, and he’ll not be home to anyone until he’s come out of the book. It is the way of things with milord.”

“This is an emergency,” Juliana said, swiping at the rivulet on her forehead.

“Unless the house is burning down, you’ll need to make an appointment like everyone else,” the cook said. “The only thing milord needs is a valet, for he intends to set off for his country estate tomorrow. Mr. Hanson is none too pleased with how topsy turvy everything is.”

“Mr. Hanson?” she asked, wiping the water from her cheek.

“The butler. He’s not happy that the master is to travel down without a manservant.”

“The earl is leaving?”

The cook frowned. “Tis normal for his lordship to withdraw once all his duties in the House of Lords are over.”

“And where is the earl going?”

The cook frowned at her. “To his country seat in Sussex.”

The earl was retiring to his country estate tomorrow and would likely be there for the rest of the year. Disappointment lodged heavily against her heart. A few minutes later, Juliana was standing outside. The bleakness of the