Page 36 of Disciplined by the Duke
Liz picked up a rag and began wiping down the table. “Yes. His aunt hasn’t heard from him. She doesn’t think he would have left, or eloped, without telling her.” She rinsed out the rag and began attacking the counters.
“You don’t have to do that, dearie. I’ll clean up when I’m done here.” Peggy turned from peeking in the ovens and jabbed a finger at her. “And it’s your afternoon off.”
“I don’t mind.” She scraped at a hardened bit of flour with her fingernail. “Did you know that Bob took food to his aunt and uncle? Mr. Blackmun is injured and Bob was helping to care for his family.”
Peggy brought a bowl filled with brown eggs to the table. “Well, he was welcome to it. I’ve been here long enough where I remember the duchess taking food to the villagers that needed it. She was a kind lady. And after she passed, the housekeeper did the same. When we lost the housekeeper, well, the young duke didn’t feel a need to replace her. Mr. Todd seemed more than able to fulfill all the necessary duties. But I guess that duty wasn’t considered necessary.”
“Perhaps he’s not aware of the need.”
“Maybe.” Peggy wiped her hands down her apron. “Maybe he should be reminded.”
Liz scrubbed until the grout between the counter’s tiles gleamed white. Yes, they could probably make sure the blacksmith and his wife had enough food, but they couldn’t bring back their nephew. She forced herself to breathe past the large weight that seemed to settle on her chest. Was she responsible? If she had never come here, never agreed to the earl’s demands, would Bob still be here?
Her empty stomach twisted and grasped at nothing. Filling a small bowl with water, she dropped to her knees by the table. A dusting of flour had drifted to the floor and she was determined to scrub it away, the need to make something clean almost overwhelming.
Pike was a disreputable man who most likely had illicit meetings regardless of her presence at Hartsworth. Bob probably would have disappeared even if Liz weren’t guilty of deceit and attempted theft.
She scrubbed harder. Her breaths came in sharp pants and her head clouded.
“Be careful,” Peggy said, her voice sounding as though she stood in a cave. “You’ll take the skin right off your fingers.”
Liz paid her no heed. If she didn’t scrub the floor clean she knew her whole body would burst apart. Blood pounded through her veins, her heart beating faster and faster until she feared the organ must explode. The motes of flour danced across the floor, the tile beneath them twisting and stretching until she closed her eyes to block out the unnatural sight. A wave of dizziness crashed through her until she didn’t know which way was up or down.
She fell, not knowing whether she’d hit the floor or the sky, and not caring either way.
Blackness consumed her, and she escaped.
* * *
“ . . . Jameson reports that the crops in the east field are doing well, but the north field’s irrigation needs repair. I’ve directed . . .” Mr. Todd’s voice droned on while Marcus contemplated his next steps to uncover the spy. It was all very well to orchestrate his men in fact-finding missions, but perhaps he should travel to London himself. There were very few men who refused to answer to a duke.
First he would need to rid himself of his troublesome houseguests. He was tired of the batting eyes, the—
“Repeat that,” he demanded, his boots crashing down to the floor from their perch on his desk.
Mr. Todd looked up from his notes, blinked. “About the new maid? I said I fear we may have to let her go. Miss Smith does not seem to have the constitution required for service in a duke’s household. Her collapse in the kitchen proves such. I have heard it rumored that she may be increasing, although Mrs. Johnson swears that isn’t so. Regardless—”
Marcus pushed to his feet and paced across the study. “She’s ill?”
Mr. Todd nodded. “She was carried to her room to rest and seems well enough now, but should she be unable to perform her duties tom—”
“And people are saying she is with child?” A burning sensation coursed through his chest. Possessiveness, so elemental Marcus hardly recognized it, clawed beneath his skin. He shouldn’t care if another man had planted his seed in Miss Smith.
But he did.
“Rumors, Your Grace.” His steward tilted his head. “But she eats very little as though her stomach bothers her and some of the other maids say she tires easily while cleaning. But I’ll take care of it.”
Marcus slapped a palm on his thigh. His steward was most efficient, but his solution would be to discharge Miss Smith. Send her out from Hartsworth, unprotected. Marcus dug a knuckle into his chest and rubbed. That wouldn’t do.
“No. I will.”
“Your Grace?” Mr. Todd’s forehead creased.
“Have her brought to my study. I’ll deal with her.”
Mr. Todd’s mouth gaped before he recalled himself. “Of course, Your Grace.” Bowing, he backed from the room. “Right away.”
Marcus strode from the steward’s office, and headed to his study. When he reached it, the room was dim, the evening dusk falling rapidly. He lit the lamps and waited for his maid to arrive. This was, if not improper, at the very least against protocol. The steward dealt with such matters.
