Page 25 of Disciplined by the Duke
Molly skirted an immense crystal chandelier that had been lowered to the floor for cleaning. Stopping next to the steward, she said, “Mr. Todd, I wanted to show you this chip on—Oh no!” The figurine she held up to Mr. Todd’s face slipped through her fingers and crashed to the parquet floor. The crack as it broke into three pieces echoed around the cavernous room.
Mr. Todd squatted on the floor, came up with the wreckage. “You clumsy ninny! The sixth Duke of Montague acquired this on a tour through Holland. It’s ruined.”
“Oh dear. It slipped right through my fingers.” Placing a hand on her chest, Molly took a step backwards. The sound of breaking glass sent another echo through the ballroom. Molly lifted up the heel of her boot, and eyed the crushed crystal prism. “Oh, Mr. Todd, I didn’t see that there. I’ve destroyed another of the duke’s possessions.”
Liz’s brow furrowed. Had Molly emphasized the word “another”? Why was she trying to get in trouble?
“Miss Davies, this is unacceptable.” His jowls quivered. “Unacceptable, do you hear?”
Molly nodded, meekly hung her head, her hands clasped in front of her. Everyone in the room had stopped working. The two maids crouched by the chandelier put down their rags to watch the scene unfold. A footman stood frozen on a chair, the painting he was hanging tilting at a forty-five-degree angle behind him on the wall.
Mr. Todd glared at each of them in turn until their rags were picked back up. Tugging at his waistcoat, he tilted his head so he could look down his nose at Molly. “Such clumsiness cannot go unpunished. Wait for me in my office.”
Molly rushed from the room, winking at Liz as she passed her in the doorway. She almost skipped down the hall.
Liz pressed a hand to her stomach. What sort of punishment awaited her chamber-mate? She shifted on her feet, and glanced back at Mr. Todd.
An angry flush crawled up his neck. “Let this be a lesson for everyone. Clumsiness will not be tolerated. Care must be taken in all your duties.” He circled around the chandelier. “Find a replacement prism, and when you’ve finished cleaning it, ask Mr. Hoffman or Mr. Aubry to rehang the chandelier for you.”
Liz ran for the nearest door and ducked into a sitting room. Mr. Todd passed by, his shoulders rounding softly as he headed for his office.
She tapped her fingers against her thigh. She should return to her duties. With Molly detained, there was even more work on Liz’s plate. But Molly had been so eager as she’d hurried to her punishment. A punishment she herself had orchestrated. Liz wanted to understand why.
And the carpet would cover the floor, in any event. If a speck of dust remained no one would be the wiser.
Racing for the nearest entrance to the hidden servants’ passages, she slipped in, easing the door shut behind her. She shuffled through the dim passageway, fortunate that little streams of light shone from the peepholes and from beneath doors. As her eyesight adjusted to the dim light, she increased her step, and hurried around the corner to the set of peepholes that looked upon the steward’s office.
Molly stood before his desk, eyes lowered and hands clasped behind her back. Mr. Todd paced behind her. He didn’t speak, but sighed loudly, shaking his head. On his third pass, he walked to a cabinet and took a thin cane down from off the back of the door.
He resumed his pacing. At each sharp turn, he would glare at the back of Molly’s head. Tapping the flexible shaft of wood on his palm, he stopped behind her and squared his shoulders, his face hardening.
Liz held her breath and leaned closer, her eyelashes fluttering against the cut stone. This was a duty for Mr. Todd, a chore he didn’t want. How perverse that the disciplinarian was uncomfortable and the disciplinee looking forward to her punishment? That couldn’t be what the steward intended.
He cleared his throat, and the side of Molly’s mouth twitched upward. Mr. Todd gripped the piece of birch until his knuckles turned white. “Gather your skirts, Miss Davies. Drawers only.” Molly lifted the black cotton to her waist, giving the steward a view of her underthings. Liz would have been scandalized in her place, but both Molly and Mr. Todd acted as though this practice were commonplace.
“You may rest against my desk,” he said, and resumed pacing behind her bent form. “Do you know why you are here, Miss Davies?”
“Yes, sir. I was very clumsy.”
“Clumsy at a time when the household is most busy preparing for a visit.” The thin cane swished harmlessly through the air. “Because of your clumsiness, you not only broke one, but two of the duke’s possessions. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir.” Molly’s voice was all meekness, but Liz was no longer fooled.
“That can’t be tolerated in a house such as Hartsworth. There are consequences for your actions.” He stopped at her side. “I don’t relish my task, but it is for your own good. You will become a better maid for it. Thirty strikes. Count them out.”
Without any more time for Liz to prepare, the steward whipped his hand around, the cane whistling through the air. The soft crack, muffled by Molly’s underclothes, made Liz jerk.
“One.” Molly had closed her eyes. Did she regret her rashness? The cane descended again.
A bead of sweat trickled behind the collar of Liz’s gown. Her hands itched to cover her own bottom. It must hurt. Each stroke a streak of fire on Molly’s flesh. Why the deuces had she done it?
The birch whistled through the air. Molly gasped, and Liz covered her own mouth. She could watch no more. She stepped back.
Into a hard wall of muscle.
* * *
Marcus leaned forward, slapping his palms against the stone wall on either side of Miss Smith. Aside from a twitch of her shoulders against his chest, his maid stood frozen, like a doe startled by a hunter.
