Darrington 01 - Marriage Minded Lord Read Online Free PDF

audience should our conversation take too bold a turn.” And it won’t. She wasn’t her mother. Clarice jerked a thumb toward the closed dining room door. “Most likely the girls have their ears pressed to the wood, listening.”
    “Indeed. It wouldn’t do to give them a show.”
    That eyebrow rose again. Insecurity crept in to take up residence every time he did that. Lord Swandon stroked a hand along his jaw as if he contemplated what she’d blurted out, then he held her gaze. “If you are a companion to Lady Drummond, why do you insist on hiding yourself away in the kitchens? Is that not beneath your station?”
    “My station?” A laugh sailed past her lips before she could recall it. “That’s a bit of a conundrum it itself, my lord. I have no appropriate place due to the circumstances of my birth.” She ran a fingertip around the rim of her teacup. “I live between worlds. I’m neither a proper member of the aristocracy, yet neither am I a full servant. I’m at once good enough to rub elbows with the upper class if dinner numbers are uneven, but too good to spend all my time below stairs.”
    “Ah, I see. Not good enough to marry into the Quality , but not common enough to sleep in the servants’ quarters.”
    Her breath caught to hear her situation summed up so succulently. “I suppose.” She chewed the inside of her cheek. “As a result, I feel most comfortable in the kitchens and take refuge here when Lady Drummond becomes trying.” He didn’t need to know just yet of her employer’s true colors. If their paths crossed again, she’d be honor bound to inform him.
    “How odd, yet in a small way, I do understand.” He narrowed his eyes while tapping a fingertip against his chin. “ I’ve often wanted to run away and hide from my duties. Why do you feel such need?”
    Clarice shrugged. Why indeed? A smidge taken aback at his interest, she frowned as she contemplated his question. “I understand food. It does what I want it to do and it doesn’t judge me. My creations please people. They smile when they eat, and I’m happy when they do. Did you not enjoy the meal?” At his nod, she continued. “Then, what more can I ask out of life?” She heard the lilt of the French accent in her voice, and smiled. I am interesting and unique. I do not care if he scoffs.
    “What of marriage or children? Do you not want at least those two things other women value?”
    Clarice sat in her chair once more. Her heart squeezed since she was well-familiar with this particular problem in society. “That is one of the drawbacks of being between classes. Who of gentle breeding would marry a lord’s bastard child once that tarnished word got ‘round?” She mentally berated herself for the slip. It could ultimately harm her, perhaps devalue her in his eyes, but she rushed on. “Or who among the servant class would dare to fall in love with a woman who has a tenuous tie to the Quality?” She stared at him with her chin set in a familiar stance of defiance. Let him think what he wanted. She wasn’t ashamed of her heritage, just regretful she couldn’t bury it and move forward.
    “Ah, then that is what you meant when you hinted about not being a proper member of the aristocracy. I’ll wager your father was, or still is, in the Peerage, correct?” When she nodded, he again clasped his hands behind his back, the perfect image of a former military man. “How do you know of your father?”
    Clarice’s cheeks burned under his unwavering scrutiny. “My mother told me who he is before she died. I had no reason to doubt her word.”
    “Ah, then he is still alive.”
    “Yes.” She swallowed around the ball of silly tears in her throat. The last thing she wanted to do was admit what her mother really was, so she grasped onto the brighter side of the truth, the part that made her proud, deep down. It wouldn’t matter if her kitchen friends heard. No one would believe them if the story leaked. Even to her it