“Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t bite you. Unless you like that.”
Duncan held up a hand. “Molly, I just started in this position, and I’d rather not have McAlpin dismiss me on my second day.” Thankfully, he heard Mrs. Cox’s voice growing nearer, and that caused even Molly to turn her head until the housekeeper’s footsteps passed.
“Meet me in Lord John’s bed chamber in an hour,” she whispered. “You can trim his oil lamp wicks, and I’ll take care of yours.” She winked. Before he could answer, she opened the door and slipped out.
Duncan released the breath he was holding. Molly was a pretty woman. Once he would have taken the opportunity to tup a pretty maidservant and considered it part of his due. Now, he wouldn’t think of it. He was here to protect the family. Still, McAlpin had given Duncan the perfect excuse to explore the second floor of the house and the private chambers for any weaknesses. He would need to collect all the oil lamps, which gave him the freedom to move about as he liked.
Duncan went back to collecting what he needed from the shelves, but he’d only just found the cleaning rags when someone cleared their throat behind him. He turned again, praying it wasn’t Molly, but it was MacRobie, one of the gardeners.
“Good morning,” Duncan said. “Did you need something?”
“Bit of that turpentine,” he said, pointing to the top shelf. “My pruning shears lost a battle with some sap.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Duncan turned back to the shelves and looked about for the turpentine bottle.
“Right there,” MacRobie said. Duncan found it and handed it to the man. MacRobie didn’t leave, though. He just stared at Duncan. “Bit surprised Molly has taken a liking to you,” he said. “I didn’t think a ginger could turn her head.”
Duncan felt his cheeks burn. He absolutely hated blushing. It was the second worst thing about being a ginger. The first being, of course, the red hair itself. He didn’t have bright red hair like his mother or that almost orange shade his poor brother had been born with. His was more of an auburn, but he’d been teased about it enough to feel self-conscious. Duncan realized now that his time at the Farm had all but caused him to forget he was a ginger. No one there ever commented on physical features. It was all about skill and ability.
Now was the time when being a scoundrel would come in handy. A scoundrel would take the woman’s interest as a given. Duncan had done so many times before. “I can’t say I’m surprised,” Duncan said. “Ginger or no, I have that effect on most women.”
“Do you now?”
Duncan shrugged and went back to collecting supplies. “I’m not particularly interested in Molly. If you want her, she’s all yours.”
MacRobie cleared his throat. “Oh, I’ve had her. Just thought I’d warn you that she is the jealous sort. Threw a mug at me when she caught me kissing one of the barmaids at the Cock and Bull in town. But maybe you like a woman with a temper.”
“What I’d like is to do my work and keep this position,” Duncan said.
“Hard worker.” McRobie stepped away. “McAlpin ought to love you.” He stomped off, his heavy boots making clomping noises as he retreated. Duncan turned back to the shelf, searching for a knife to trim the wicks.
“He’s still sweet on her, you know,” a female voice said.
“Bloody hell,” Duncan muttered and spun around to find Ada, the nursery maid, in the doorway. She was petite, probably an inch shorter than Lucy, but thinner and with wispy brown hair, which she wore neatly tucked under a cap. She was a plain woman, soft-spoken, and quiet. No wonder she had been hired as a nursery maid. She was exactly the sort of person to slip in and out without notice or disturbing anyone.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said, straightening her apron.
Perhaps not, but Duncan was beginning to wonder if he’d learned anything in his training. He had always received high marks in evasive maneuvers. But the servants at Pembroke Lodge could have bested him in Mr. Fog’s class any day.
“It’s fine. I have what I need and will get out of your way.” He moved aside and then paused, thinking he should learn as much about the staff as he could. Lucy had said Ada was relatively new, so he’d assumed she knew little more than he about the household. But she had clearly seen something between the gardener and Molly.
Duncan leaned against the door. “MacRobie is still sweet on Molly?” he asked. “He mentioned an incident with a mug thrown at his head.”
“That happened not long after I was hired,” she said. “Everyone was talking about it, and MacRobie apologized in front of everyone, but Molly wouldn’t take him back.”
“That must have been quite the introduction to Pembroke Lodge.”
She smiled. “Between that and Miss Jane leaving, it’s been rather eventful. I thought a position in Richmond Park would be quiet and peaceful.”
“Where did you work before you came to Pembroke Lodge?”
“Oh here and there. I’m originally from Liverpool.”
He nodded. “That’s the accent.”
She ducked her head. “I have my accent and you your ginger hair. We’re misfits.”
Duncan wouldn’t have put it that way, especially as he was desperately trying to fit in. But if it was only his hair that set him apart, then he wouldn’t quibble.
