Midnight Angel (Stokehurst #1)(22)

“Please,” she whispered. The ripple of her swallow touched his knuckles.

Blindly Luke turned away, letting go of her with a shove. He kept his back to her, embarrassed by the swelling of his body, the flush on his face. “Get out,” he said thickly.

He heard the swish of her skirts as she fled the room, the way she fumbled with the door handle. The door closed behind her with a forceful thump. Jerking the chair away from the desk, Luke sat down heavily and swiped at his face with his sleeve. “Christ.” he muttered. One moment everything was normal, and the next the world had blown apart.

The tip of his forefinger rubbed over the deep scratch on the desk as he thought. Why had she bothered to plead for a disgraced housemaid? Why had she challenged him at the risk of losing her own position? Puzzled, he leaned back in his chair. It bothered him that he wanted to understand her. “Who are you?” he muttered. “Damn you, I'm going to find out.”

Hurtling into her room, Tasia closed the door and threw her back against it. She panted hard, dizzy from running up the stairs so fast. There was no doubt she would be dismissed. She had been foolish. She deserved whatever happened. What right did she have to give the lord of the manor a dressing-down for his behavior? It was unreasonable, especially when she had never bothered to champion the causes of her own servants. She felt like the hypocrite she had accused him of being.

“Everything looks so different from below-stairs,” she said aloud, and smiled grimly. She went to her little mirror, pulling the hairpins from her chignon and jabbing them back in more tightly. She had to calm herself. Soon it would be time to begin the daily lessons with Emma…if Lord Stokehurst didn't fire her the moment she reappeared.

There was something she had to do first. Searching in the armoire, she delved past her folded linens and closed her hand around a knotted handkerchief. She felt the hard lump of her father's gold ring. “Thank you, Papa,” she whispered. “I'm going to put this to good use.”

As Tasia appeared in the doorway of Nan's room, she saw that the girl was fully dressed and looking much better than she had the night before.

Surprise crossed Nan's face as she saw Tasia. “Miss Billings!”

“How do you feel today?”

Nan shrugged. “Fair. Though I can't hold anything in my belly ‘cept a drop of tea. And my legs are weak.” She gestured to a frayed hamper. “I'm almost finished with my packing.”

“And the babe?”

Nan lowered her eyes. “It seems all right.”

Tasia smiled slightly. “I came to say goodbye before you left.”

“It's very kind of you, miss.” Self-consciously Nan reached beneath her mattress and pulled out a small object. It was the icon. “Here she is.” Reverently Nan traced the Madonna's face with her finger. “She belongs with you. I'm sorry I took her, Miss Billings. You were kindness itself, when you should've hated me.”

Tasia received the icon without expression, though her heart gave an extra thump of gladness at having it back. “There is something I want to give you,” she said, and handed Nan the knotted handkerchief. “You must sell it and keep the money it brings.”

Frowning curiously, Nan untied the cloth. Her eyes widened as she saw the gold ring. “Oh, Miss Billings, you couldn't mean to give this to me!” She tried to hand it back, but Tasia refused.

“You'll need it for yourself and the baby.”

Nan hesitated, staring down at the ring. “Where did you get it?”

A smile curved Tasia's lips. “Don't worry, I didn't steal it. The ring belonged to my father. I know he would approve. Please take it.”

Nan closed her fingers over the object and began to sniffle. “Miss Billings, why are you doing this?”

There wasn't an easy answer to that. Tasia couldn't afford to be generous, not when her own resources were scarce. But it felt good to help Nan. For a few minutes at least, someone was staring at her with gratitude…It made her feel strong and useful. And there was the baby. Tasia hated the thought of a tender new life being given such a cold welcome to the world: no father, no food, no home. A little extra money wouldn't solve anything, but it might give Nan some hope.

She realized Nan was waiting for a reply. “I know what it's like to be alone and in trouble.”

Nan's gaze flitted down to her stomach. “You mean you—”

“Not that kind of trouble.” Tasia laughed wryly. “But in a way it was just as serious.”

Clutching the ring, Nan stepped forward and hugged her impulsively. “If it's a boy, I'll name him Billings!”

“Oh, my.” Tasia's eyes sparkled with amusement. “You'd better shorten it to Billy.”

“And if it's a girl, Karen. That's your first name, aye?”

Tasia smiled. “Call her Anna,” she said gently. “I think that would be nice.”

Emma seemed distracted during their morning lessons, only half-answering Tasia's questions. Samson was stretched out at their feet, turning up his furry stomach invitingly. He was quiet, seeming to understand the importance of remaining undetected by hostile housekeepers and irritable fathers. Occasionally Emma nudged his ribs with her toes, and he swiveled his big head around with a happy dog-grin, his tongue drooping down the side of his jaw.