Page 5 of Disciplined by the Duke
Liz whipped her head back to the man fitted against her. Each honorific from Mr. Todd’s lips hit her like an arrow spearing its target.
Oh dear.
If she’d been paying attention she would have noticed that the fabric of the jacket beneath her hands was finely woven gabardine. Yes, he was missing a cravat, a faux pas for a man of his station, but the shirt underneath was linen. And Mr. Todd would never have condescended to answer questions from anyone but his employer.
“Now, thank Your Grace for saving your neck, and apologize for your disrespect, girl,” Mr. Todd ordered.
She swallowed hard. If the duke tossed her out now she would never get the letter. She met his stare, and straightened her shoulders as best she could. The action only pressed her chest closer into his.
“I am very sorry, Your Grace; I didn’t know who you were. Please accept my apology, and my thanks for stopping my fall.” She pushed gently against his chest, and this time the duke set her aside.
“My new chambermaid, you say.” Montague circled her, his eyes examining every inch of her person. Her serviceable clothes, which before had seemed tidy and modest, now felt threadbare and ill fitting. “She is not in uniform.”
“Not yet, Your Grace,” Mr. Todd said. “After I’ve shown her around, she will be sent to her room to change.”
Liz bristled at being discussed as though she couldn’t speak for herself, but kept her expression even. As a servant, and a lower one at that, she was meant to remain silent.
“I apologize most humbly for the disorder, Your Grace. All will be put to rights immediately.” Mr. Todd grasped her elbow and Liz instinctively jerked from his grip. The duke raised a golden eyebrow.
“Miss Smith, you are one of those things that need to be put right.” Mr. Todd’s round stomach quivered with indignation. “May I remind you that your employment is in its infancy and can easily be lost? The Duke of Montague’s service requires the highest of standards. If you are unable to meet said standards you will be discharged immediately.”
Nodding her head, she stared at the floor, her best imitation of humble agreement. Her nails dug deeply into her palms at the insult of being spoken to such. Growing up as a member of the gentry hadn’t prepared her for the treatment suffered by the servant class. This past year had shown her how blind she’d been to the way the world truly worked.
Montague cleared his throat, demanding her attention. Pointedly, he looked down at her hand, and his full lips thinned. Liz hesitated, slowly uncurled her fists. The duke nodded, and turned to his steward.
“This is the girl’s first day. Be lenient. I am certain she takes direction well and will be an asset to your management of the estate.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Mr. Todd said with a stiff bow. The duke turned on his heel and strode out of the room without a second glance at Liz. She sketched a curtsy to his retreating back.
“You are most fortunate the duke was in a forgiving mood, Miss Smith. Come, I will show you to your room and you must prepare for your duties.” Up the staircase and down a long hall they walked, Mr. Todd imparting some remaining information along the way. The mealtimes for the maids (six in the evening), the day of the week she would have a free afternoon (Saturdays), and the moral expectations that each member of the duke’s service was expected to adhere to.
The female members, at least. “There will be no fraternizing with those of the male persuasion who serve the duke. And you are not to go into the village without an escort. Unmarried woman who are caught in a compromising position shall be released from service immediately.” He stopped in front of a small wooden door. “Here are your quarters, Miss Smith. You share with Miss Molly Davies. Have you understood everything that I’ve told you?”
“Yes, Mr. Todd.” She entered the spartan room, and sagged with relief when the door closed behind her. Two small beds separated by a rickety desk, a table with a washbowl on it, and two wardrobes were the room’s only furnishings. Her trunk rested in front of one of the wardrobes.
Liz flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. So that was a duke. She’d seen one across a ballroom during her season once, surrounded by society much more important than the Wilcox girls. But never stood before one. Never spoken to one. Imposing, humorless creatures apparently. He was rougher than she’d expected. Far from the pampered and soft nobility whom she’d previously encountered. A broad, firm chest. Arms like bands of iron wrapped around her middle. She rested a hand on her stomach. Definitely not a man who relied on servants to open doors for him or carry his packages.
Sighing, she stood and opened her wardrobe. Four uniforms, black with thin white pinstripes, hung on a wooden rod, the rest of the closet empty, waiting to be filled by her meager belongings. She dressed in a work gown, loose in the bust but well pressed and made of India cotton. Tying the apron at her back, she headed downstairs to begin her work.
She picked up supplies and met with two other maids. They both seemed young and vapid, giggling about the local village lads. But as they showed her around and explained their techniques, Liz could tell that they took their employment seriously. Working for a duke held prestige and brought a large salary, and they wouldn’t risk either with slipshod work.
They introduced her to Molly, Liz’s chamber-mate, a bold girl with green eyes that turned up at the corners and a playful smile. She assured Liz that they would have a capital time rooming together and said it with such certainty Liz didn’t dare to contradict her.
The study had already been cleaned that day, so Liz was sent to the library to give it a quick dusting and polish. She trailed her fingers over the leather-bound spines as she swiped the books with her cloth.
It was all very organized, first by time period and location, ancient Greece, medieval Europe, then by subject matter. She paused by a translation of Aristotle’sDe Anima.She hadn’t been allowed to pursue her education as much as she would have wanted. It wasn’t worth the money to hire a tutor for a girl, her father had said. But she’d learned as much as she could from the books in their small library and what she borrowed from neighbors.
But no education could have prepared her for her life now, so perhaps her father had been right in that respect. It would have been a waste of money.
She scrubbed all the wood surfaces within reach until they gleamed in the afternoon light. With a last look at the floor-to-ceiling books, she headed downstairs for an early dinner.
Peggy patted the seat next to her at the long table in the kitchen, and Liz wended her way through the crowd. The servants ate in three shifts, and the seating arrangement at the table seemed to fall according to the category of service one was in. The cooks and footmen sat in a row with the maids across from them. Except for Liz. Apparently she’d broken ranks by sitting next to Peggy, who gave her a wink. The groomsmen and gardeners sat at the far end of the table, closest to the door.
Trays of food crowded the table, and everyone helped themselves to what they wanted. Mr. Pike reached for a slab of meat stacked on a platter. He caught her looking at him and scowled.
Peggy spooned some mashed potatoes onto Liz’s plate, and leaned in close. “I wanted to apologize, for the spot of trouble you got in this afternoon.”
“Why should you apologize for it?” Even though the food smelled delicious, she ate sparingly. The first thing she would do for Amanda after getting her out of Newgate would be to cook her a feast. No, second thing. A bath first.