Page 23 of Disciplined by the Duke
The edges of her letter dug into her fingers, and she remembered her task. “Mr. Pike,” she began, pulling the folded paper from between two buttons on her bodice, “I need for you to have this delivered to Westmore. It’s important that he receive it straightaway.”
His broad palm swept through the air and snatched the letter. Pushing the missive into a trouser pocket, he peered around the room with narrowed eyes. “Keep yer bloody voice down.” Satisfied there was no one about, he crossed his arms, rocked on his feet. “So, you got what you came for, did you? I bet that wasn’t no hardship fer someone like you, spreading them knees for a dandy.” He blew out a breath. “And like any man, the duke gave up his secret fer a nice bit o’ skirt.”
Narrowing her eyes, she sucked in a sharp breath. Her palm itched to smack the smirk off his face, but she didn’t want to touch his filth. A year ago she would have been struck speechless by such crude words. As a woman living alone in London, she was growing accustomed to the abuse, but it still had the power to make her simmer. That she should be treated with such disrespect was an affront to her breeding. No woman should be discussed so. But in another couple of months, even her outrage would most likely disappear into apathy.
She dug her nails into her palms, the bite of pain easing her temper. “Mr. Pike, there is nothing improper regarding that letter. It is a letter thatIwrote to Westmore. It is not a letter that I have stolen or . . . or seduced from Montague. Just because I work for Westmore doesn’t mean that I have to tolerate such boorish behavior from the likes of you.”
He stepped into her, his brows drawn low, and her back hit the door. The acrid smell of manure and unbathed man assaulted her senses, and she struggled to keep her expression impassive. “Listen up and listen good. You’ll take whatever I give you. Yer job is to find the earl’s letter, and mine is to make sure you do. And if you can’t get yer job done . . .” Her vision filled with brown-stained teeth. “There’s nobody who will miss you. The earl told me all about yer predic’ment.”
Half-moons were carved into her palms, but she clenched her fists tighter. She knew her spying could land her in trouble. Stealing was, after all, a capital crime in England. But the threat of that punishment lacked immediacy. It never felt real.
Mr. Pike’s meaty hands and snarling face were real. Her legs quivered under her skirts, and she hated herself for the weakness. At least he couldn’t see it.
“Is there a problem here?” a thready voice asked from the kitchen doorway. Mr. Todd stood inside the entrance, Peggy steps behind.
Pike pushed himself away from Liz. “No, no problems. I came fer some grub.”
The steward’s eyes flitted between her and Pike. “It appeared as though you two were having an argument.”
Pike took a step towards him. “Not yer business, little man, is it?”
“Just a minor family dispute, Mr. Todd.” Liz included Peggy in her reassuring smile. “It’s nothing of great amount.”
Peggy’s shoulders relaxed. She walked forward and patted the groom’s forearm. “People never do fight like they do with their own. I’m sure once—”
“Take yer hand off of me,” Pike growled. Peggy fell back, her face flushing as red as her hair.
Mr. Todd stepped to her side. “Now there’s no call to be rude. No call at all. Mrs. Johnson was only trying to—”
“I know what she’s trying to do and I want no part of it.” Pike glared at Peggy. “No part at all, you hear? Why you think I’d want a dumpy hag like you I don’t know. But stop it with the meat pies delivered to the stable and yer constant yammering at me. I want none of it, you hear me?”
Peggy’s chin wobbled so much she couldn’t respond. Liz fought the urge to kick the man in the rear.
Stepping up to the bigger man, Mr. Todd poked a finger into Pike’s chest. The groom didn’t budge. “How dare you?” Mr. Todd asked, his chest heaving. “You are the absolute lowest piece of guttersnipe to insult Mrs. Johnson in that manner. You aren’t fit to even clean her boots. You’re less than a man, you are.”
Pike stared down at the steward. Blinked.
“And you shall not step foot in Hartsworth any longer, Mr. Pike. Not one more step. Is that clear? All of your meals will be sent to you in the stable and you shall have no further association with the servants in here.” Mr. Todd glanced at the top of Peggy’s head, her face turned down to the floor. His hands trembled as they swept down his pressed black waistcoat; whether from indignation or fear of the larger man Liz didn’t know. Either way, the pompous steward earned her respect.
Pike scrunched up one eye, tilted his head to the side. An expectant silence descended on the storeroom. Mr. Todd didn’t back away an inch.
Pike cleared his throat, spat something disgusting onto the stone floor. Slapping his cap on his head, he stormed outside.
Peggy’s face remained downcast. Liz swallowed past the sting in the back of her throat. “Peggy, I apologize for my cousin’s behavior. He’s quite insufferable, and you mustn’t take a word he says to heart.”
The older woman didn’t meet her eyes. “It’s all right, dear. He wasn’t saying anything that wasn’t true. I am a foolish woman, and all he did was point that out.”
Liz and Mr. Todd objected to that, their reassurances to the contrary tumbling over each other. Peggy’s smile firmed but didn’t reach her eyes. She picked at the ends of her apron and twisted it. “Don’t you worry yourself none.” Her eyes flickered to the steward, but she addressed herself to Liz. “I’m too old to let a little insult keep me down for long. Besides,” she said, turning back into the kitchen and walking to the counter. “He’s only your second cousin. You can’t be responsible for distant relations.”
“Be that as it may, you shall not speak to your cousin within the walls of Hartsworth. And I’ll be speaking to the duke about relieving that man of his position.” Mr. Todd slid the fingers of his right hand between two buttons in his waistcoat, palm pressed firmly to his round stomach. “If I’d been aware of the man’s character I would never have taken into consideration any recommendations of his for open positions.”
Peggy poured herself a cup of cream. “Mr. Todd, I believe it was the recommendation of the Earl of Westmore that you relied upon, not that of your groom. Lizzie’s character shouldn’t be connected to that of her second cousin.”
His cheeks pinkened. “I didn’t mean to imply that was so, Mrs. Johnson.” He adjusted the knot of his cravat. “Miss Smith’s reputation will be derived solely from her own performance. And the fact that you think so highly of her, of course, weighs in her favor.” His blush deepened.
“Well.” Peggy shifted from one foot to the other. She looked at Liz, then the steward, before dropping her eyes to the floor. “Well. Yes. See that you don’t judge our Lizzie by her second cousin.” Picking up her cup, she plodded from the room.
Mr. Todd straightened his back. His gaze followed the cook out and remained on the empty doorway. “Miss Smith, I trust your disagreement with your cousin will no longer affect this estate. Now, if you will excuse me, I bid you good night.”
