Page 4 of Disciplined by the Duke
“Now, Miss Smith, I will give you a tour of Hartsworth House while I explain your duties.”
The next hour Mr. Todd showed her the first two floors of the mansion, pointing out the rooms for which she would be responsible. The high frescoed ceilings and gleaming marble floors filled Liz with awe. Hartsworth House was more museum than home. Paintings and sculptures discreetly lined the hallways. Liz itched to leave Mr. Todd behind, wander through the beautiful rooms alone.
Her steps faltered at the entrance hall. The front doors stood open, the light filtering through giving the snowy marble floors a light sheen. Two staircases coiled up from the main floor hugging the walls until they met the second-floor balcony. A chandelier hung from the domed ceiling high above, crystal dripping from the fixture like icing off a cake on a hot day.
Liz sidled around the edges of the room to follow Mr. Todd up a staircase. The chandelier was so large, so laden with glass, she was afraid it would tear from the ceiling and crush her.
Mr. Todd led her down corridor after corridor. She counted at least twelve different sitting rooms. The number of guest rooms was probably close to a hundred. Many of the rooms had coverings over the furniture, but Liz didn’t think that precaution was needed. She didn’t see a speck of dust anywhere, not even in the unused rooms. The servants of Hartsworth had impeccable standards. And she was now one of them.
She’d never given much thought to the lives of her servants before. Although her father wasn’t wealthy, they did have a housekeeper, a maid, and a cook. Three women who had almost been a part of the family and without whom she wouldn’t have survived the past year. Before the contents of her father’s home were sold to pay for his debts, the women had managed to remove the most expensive heirlooms and give them to Liz. She’d been selling them off piece by piece to pay for her tiny room in Old London, and for food and blankets for Amanda. A bribe once a month allowed her to bring in supplies to help Amanda bathe.
“Well, I think that wraps it up, Miss Smith. I will show you to your room now,” he said, then hesitated. Dogs barked, the commotion growing louder until it sounded as though a hunt were going on right outside the manor.
“What is going on out there?” Mr. Todd pursed his lips, and changed direction, heading down another staircase that took them into a stockroom adjoining the kitchen. He flung open the outside door, and jumped back as five dogs swarmed in, barking madly. Five very large dogs. Contents were knocked from their shelves by wagging tails. The dogs paid no heed to Mr. Todd’s shrill demands that they cease their actions.
Liz tried to help Mr. Todd herd the frenzied canines back outside, to no avail. The smell of the meats hanging from the beams overwhelmed their control. Thinking to bribe them outside, she reached up and grabbed a joint of ham hanging from a hook in the ceiling. “Mr. Todd, if we—”
A shaggy black brute jumped on her, his massive front paws landing on her shoulders and knocking her back. The beast snatched the meat from her hand and dropped down, tearing into his treat. She stumbled, trying to regain her footing. Her heel hit a bag of flour, and she fell backwards, expecting to hit the stone floor.
Instead, she hit a warm body. An arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her upright, saving her from her tumble.
She turned to thank her rescuer. The words clogged her throat. The face staring down at her was severe, implacable. It would have been handsome if it hadn’t been so expressionless. The man’s dark blond hair was cropped fashionably short. Eyes, as gray and hard as granite, bore into hers.
She’d never pressed so closely against a man. It was highly improper. And most distracting. Did all men have such firm chests? All smell so appealing up close? She sniffed. Leather and bay rum.
He surveyed the chaos. “Sit.” His voice barely raised, yet every dog heard him and immediately sank down to its haunches. One whimpered. If his arm didn’t band her to him Liz would have sat down, as well. “Mr. Todd, what is the meaning of this?”
“I was investigating that myself.” Mr. Todd went outside where the commotion had begun and returned holding the bone to what appeared to be a large shoulder of ham. Bits of meat were still attached. “It appears the dogs were attracted by this bone. When I opened the door, they rushed in. I apol—”
“And who is this?” The distracting eyes returned to her face.
“I’m Miss Smith, the new chambermaid.” His hold on her bordered on inappropriate, and she pushed against his chest, demanding her release. His arm tightened.
The new man was as muscled as a blacksmith. But her appreciation of his physique was overwhelmed by her irritation. She was being veritably molested in the servants’ area of Hartsworth House, and the lout didn’t even seem to realize his wrongdoing. Discreetly, she pushed against him again, not wanting to cause a scene.
His shirt gaped wider at the throat, exposing a vee of bronzed skin. A laborer, Liz thought. Used to working out of doors in the sun. And a man raised with no manners.
“Did you feed the dogs, Miss Smith? Cause this commotion?” The man stood as sturdy as an oak tree, legs planted wide. His gaze swept the entire room, taking in everything, the stone floors, the panting dogs, the wooden beams laden with hooks of meat.
“No.” Liz bit the inside of her cheek. He had no right to accuse her. But she’d learned from Westmore that saying less was often more effective.
He lowered his head, inhaled deeply. Liz’s mouth went bone-dry. “You smell of ham,” he said.
She smelled of . . . Raising her booted foot, she was a second away from crashing it down on the brute’s foot. He deserved nothing less, commenting on a woman’s odor. But she recalled herself in time, lowered her foot to the floor. She no longer was of a station to oppose such behavior. But she didnotsmell of—
Oh. “The joint. I was attempting to lure the dogs outside with a joint of ham. I was unsuccessful.”
“Indeed.”
She lifted her chin. “Now, sir, I must insist that you release me.At once,” she stated with emphasis.
“Miss Smith, mind your manners!” Mr. Todd barked.
“Mymanners, Mr. Todd? This man—”
“Is the Most Noble Marcus Aurelius Beaufort Hawkridge, the eighth Duke of Montague and Marquis of Harrington, Earl of Berring, and Baron Hawkridge of Stoven.”
Chapter Two