Page 18 of Disciplined by the Duke
The duke and the chambermaid.
The fates were a bitch.
* * *
Forks clanked on plates and the kitchen hummed with the chatter of the servants eating their dinners. At the far end of the rough wood plank table, Mr. Pike dug his teeth into a chunk of brown bread, tore off a bite with a vicious twist of his head. His left eye was surrounded by puffy, bluish skin, and his beady eyes glared at anyone who dared stare at him.
“Peggy, do you know what happened to Mr. Pike? He looks most ill-used,” Liz whispered.
The cook paused, the spoonful of soup halfway to her mouth. “Well, some say he was cheated at a card game down at the village tavern and he didn’t take kindly to it. Others think the husband of a woman he . . . that he . . . well, that he got in a fight with a husband.” The lines on Peggy’s forehead deepened into grooves.
“I’m sure that’s not the case,” Liz said. Not because she thought the man had any morals, as Peggy clearly wanted to believe, but because she couldn’t imagine any woman choosing to consort with Pike.
Peggy dragged her spoon through her soup, drawing a figure eight. “Well, maybe. Others think he stepped on a rake.”
Liz hid her smile behind her fist. She wished that were the case. The ignominy of being beaten by a rake would do the dour groom good. But she knew the true explanation wouldn’t be so amusing.
“Poor man,” Peggy said. “The duke doesn’t have much patience for his servants getting into trouble. I hope Mr. Pike doesn’t lose his position over his troubles.”
A languid shiver traipsed down Liz’s spine at the mention of the duke. She’d tried to ignore the shifting feeling near her heart whenever she thought of him, tried to forget his sweet and spicy scent. To no avail. He was constantly in her thoughts. What had he meant by his attention? He’d pressed indecently close against her, spoken of such indelicate matters. Did he feel the same longing as she when he looked upon her?
Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Liz let Peggy’s cheerful voice fade to the background. The duke’s notice couldn’t lead to any proper outcome. But did that necessarily mean that his intentions were improper?
She interrupted the older woman. “Peggy, can I ask you a rather delicate question?”
The cook pursed her lips. “I don’t see why not.”
“I know in some homes a maid might have to worry about unwanted attention.”
Peggy stared at her blankly.
“From the master of the house,” Liz clarified.
A wrinkle creased the cook’s forehead.
Liz sighed. “Do I need to stay out of the path of the duke?” Her heart beat a bit faster, and she turned her head from side to side to make sure no one was listening. “Is the Duke of Montague accustomed to enjoying the favors of his servants?”
Peggy’s eyes popped wide. “I should say not!”
Her voice was loud, and Liz should care if anyone overheard them. But the crushing relief she felt at Peggy’s words overruled her caution. Montague hadn’tseemedthe sort of man to have sport with his maids, but the confirmation was enough to make her hands tremble. She squeezed them into fists to hide her emotion.
Not that it should matter. In fact, she would have been safer had the duke been acting in his usual manner. If his interest was solely directed at her that could be . . . dangerous. And delicious. She rubbed her thighs together, trying to rid herself of the ache deep inside.
Peggy leaned in close. “Has anyone here said otherwise? Because on that score you needn’t have any worry. There has never been a hint of scandal from this duke, or his father.”
“No,” Liz was quick to reassure her. “No one’s said anything. It’s just a worry a woman has when she gets a position in a new house. You’ve eased my mind.” The lie came easily, and Peggy sat back, sighing with relief.
Liz’s stomach knotted, far from relieved. She didn’t know what to do with this new information. Avoiding the duke would be smart. Focusing on her tasks would be smarter.
Peggy reached for a broad white bowl filled with a mix of corn, peas, and onion. “I’m going to go see if Mr. Pike needs a second helping of vegetables.”
Liz popped up like a jack-in-the-box. “I’ll do that. I need to speak with my cousin.” Taking the bowl from Peggy’s hands, she tried to ignore the disappointed look that swept over the cook’s face. The sooner she figured out what the groom was up to, the better. If he was doing more at Hartsworth than merely keeping track of Liz she wanted to know about it. She walked towards the groom and nudged her hips in between him and a stable boy. She held out the bowl. “Would you like some more vegetables, Cousin? Mrs. Johnson is concerned you haven’t eaten enough.”
His dark eye glinted at her from behind swollen skin before rolling back to his plate. He tore a large bite of roast from his fork and chewed loudly.
She rested the bowl on one hip. “I was hoping we could speak after dinner,” she plowed on. The silent treatment was not an effective deterrent for her. “I have some news from home I’d like to share.”
“No. I’m busy.” He worked the hunk of meat into the side of his cheek while he spoke, like a squirrel with a nut. A dirty, ugly squirrel.
