Page 19 of Disciplined by the Duke
A small hand reached under her arm and searched for the wood spoon, grasping at air. Liz turned her head, and the stable boy snatched his hand back, stared at his plate. She put the bowl of vegetables down in front of him, and the boy bounced on his seat as he grabbed the serving spoon.
As she turned back to the groom, her smile faded. “Mr. Pike, I must speak to you. Not least of which, I’d like to know how you obtained your black eye.”
He hefted to his feet, and Liz held her breath as his stench rose with him. He pushed his chest into her and leaned down until his face was inches from her own. “That ain’t no account of yers, missy. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop with yer questions.” He grabbed the hunk of greasy meat with his bare hand and slammed out of the kitchen.
She took a deep breath. It was difficult to remember at times how her life had changed. She’d been used to being answered when she asked a servant a question. But she was no longer their superior.
“Fam’ly ought t’be nicer to each other,” the young boy said around an open mouthful of food.
“Keep your mouth closed when you chew, young man,” she said, her eyes flitting back to the door that had shut behind Mr. Pike. “And yes.” She thought about her father and her sister. “Family should be nicer.”
Returning to her seat, she avoided the curious gaze of the cook. “He wasn’t hungry. But the stable boy, Bob I think his name is, quite enjoys your cooking.” She sipped at the cup of tea in front of her, now cold.
“That’s Bobby, sweet boy. Bob is the footman.” Peggy scraped the side of her bowl with a chunk of bread, sopping up the last dregs of soup. “Or he was the footman. Apparently he left the duke’s service last night. And without a word to anyone,” she said, a hint of wonder in her voice. “Mr. Todd wasn’t pleased when he learned about it this morning.”
Both women looked down the table to the man in question. He dropped his face to his plate.
“Why did Bob leave?” Liz pushed her own vegetables around on her plate. She hadn’t bothered putting any meat on her dish.
“No one knows for sure. He didn’t say anything before he left. I guess he got a better placement, hard as that is to believe. Maybe he ran up to Gretna Green with a sweetheart.” Peggy sighed deeply, looking wistful. “So romantic.”
Liz frowned. “If that’s what happened.” She tipped her head to the side, considering. The same night Mr. Pike got a black eye a footman went missing. She’d learned not to trust in coincidence. Positions at Hartsworth were highly prized, and for a young man to leave without telling anyone . . . Well, Liz didn’t like it. “I don’t suppose Bob has any family around here?”
Peggy’s eyebrow disappeared under her fringe of red hair. “I couldn’t say. Do you want me to ask around?”
“Yes, I’d appreciate it.”
Peggy patted her hand. “Well, then, consider it done.” She looked down at Liz’s plate. “Aren’t you going to eat any more? You hardly eat enough for a bird.”
Liz stretched her lips into a facsimile of a smile. “I eat plenty. I just haven’t been feeling well lately.” Thinking about her sister’s situation did make her sick to her stomach, but she could hardly explain that to Peggy.
The cook bit her lip, brought her head in close to Liz’s. “You’re not increasing, are you? Is that why you left Lord Westmore’s service?”
“What?” Liz jerked her head from side to side, praying no one had overheard that question. “Of course not,” she hissed. “Why would you even think that?”
She laid a hand on her flat stomach. Children had once seemed an obvious part of her future. Now they were likely but a fancy. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “No, Peggy, I’m not with child.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” Peggy stood and pulled a large loaf of nut bread off the counter, carrying it to the table. She sliced off a large piece. “Now, how about a nice bit of bread and butter? It might do your stomach well.”
Liz stood and picked up her plate. “No, thank you.” She looked at the woman next to her. A kind woman with a heart longing for romance. Liz’s future might not have options, but that didn’t mean the cook’s shouldn’t. “Why don’t you give my piece to Mr. Todd? He still looks hungry to me.”
Liz turned away as Peggy’s eyebrows shot up. It would be nice if someone got a happy ending.
Chapter Seven
Darkwing’s sides heaved between Montague’s thighs. Marcus reached the top of a rolling hill, and pulled on the reins. The stallion snorted and danced beneath him.
Marcus raised a hand to his forehead, blocking the sun. Verdant meadows dotted with oak trees and craggy boulders spread out in every direction. A folly of a crumbling Greek temple, ivy winding around its graceful columns, was but a speck in the distance. Usually the sight of his home filled him with pride and gratitude. Today, his mind was more singularly focused.
Mr. Todd, when informing him about the status of his newest servant, had mentioned that the woman had gone for a walk on her afternoon off. The fastidious older man prided himself on keeping track of all those under his management.
With a stack of correspondence to reply to, one of Marcus’s least favorite occupations, and the blue sky beckoning outside his window, the duke had been struck with the urge to take Darkwing for a ride. The horse needed frequent exercise, after all, and it was always important to periodically inspect his property. If he happened to catch sight of his maid on the tour he would stop and bid her well. It would only be polite.
Darkwing snorted again, and Marcus silently concurred. All of those reasons were pure bollocks. He shouldn’t be wasting his time hoping for a glimpse of the blasted woman like a lovesick schoolboy, but here he was. He slapped his heels against the horse’s flanks and directed him into a more sedate trot. If he was going to act the fool at least he could do so in a more dignified manner.
A mile and a half later, he saw her. Her back was to him as she sat facing a stream that crossed his land. He walked Darkwing closer. Her knees were tucked up under her chin, her arms wrapped around them, holding a book. A plain straw hat blocked her face from his view. He dismounted by a nearby tree and threw the stallion’s reins over a limb.
His shadow fell across her form, and she tilted her head up, her eyes growing wide.
