Page 16 of Her Tempestuous Duke

“Only cleaned and tidied a little. I have tried to teach Ariel some alternative phrases. His normal language is, shall we say, a little ripe. Oh, and I’ve used some of your provisions. I hope you don’t object.”

What was the point of objecting? Once the provisions were used, there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t exactly un-cook them. If only he’d woken sooner, he could have prevented her well-meaning actions. She’d wasted her time—nothing she did or said would change his mind about Anthony.

“I found some pickled eggs—not chickens’ eggs, so I assume they are from gulls.”

They were. He’d almost broken his neck trying to get them. He bit back a retort.

“There was some smoked fish and a sack of rice. I wasn’t sure what your herbs or spices were as they’re not labeled. I thought it best not to risk poisoning anyone.”

Her cheeks pinked disarmingly.

“Well. It seems I have no control over the matter.” His stomach informed him that a hot meal would be most welcome, even if it was likely to be the worst kedgeree he’d ever tasted.

He settled down on the barrel while she served him a bowlful of her concoction. The first taste confirmed that she was not so inexpert a cook as he’d expected. How had she managed it?

“Don’t look so surprised. I found your copy of Mrs. Raffle’s cookery book. I had to make do with what I could find, so don’t judge me.”

He continued eating, stealing glances at her as she did the same. There was a good deal left in the bottom of the pot—doubtless, this ministering angel meant to feed the prisoners below as well.

A deep sigh escaped him, and she glanced up questioningly. Then her look clouded, and he wondered what troubled her thoughts when she’d been so determinedly cheerful a moment ago.

His bowl empty, he left her to finish her own meal and went to perform his ablutions. He washed thoroughly, despite the freezing water, and ran some through his hair, which made him gasp. Good. He needed some sense knocked back into him. He paused then, cold-reddened fingers flexed on the edge of the bowl, then pulled out his knife and gave his beard a rudimentary trim.

When he returned, Minerva was sitting in the chair, her hands clasped together. She cast him a look of entreaty. “There’s so much left over—I know you live hand-to-mouth here, so it would be wrong to waste it. My guardian and our servants must be hungry and thirsty by now.”

“They must be. I’ll take something down to them shortly.”

“Thank you.” Her gaze on him felt like a caress. “You’ve cut your beard. Why?”

Not to please her. She would be leaving today. But he’d earn more respect from Anthony’s servants when they realized that he was far more the gentleman than their current master. And if he was going to hand felons and murderers over to the authorities, he needed to look more convincing than they did.

“I’m taking you to the mainland today. As soon as the causeway is clear, we can go over.”

“You’re sending me away?” Was that a hint of hurt in her voice? Because she didn’t want to be separated from her friends, because she still hoped she could influence him to be merciful. Or was there something else?

“But I need to stay. My guardian is here.”

“There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll leave you with a family in the village and send a message to Tremar Park so that someone will come and fetch you. You can’t stay here under such circumstances without risk to your reputation. I know you don’t believe me, but my brother is not to be trusted. If something untoward occurs, I want you well away from it all.”

She twisted her hands in her skirts, and the knuckles whitened. Her hazel eyes gazed into his, full of trouble. Was she trembling?

“Oh, Parys, I know you mean well, but—I don’t know how to say this. I want to stay. My guardian has been plotting to kill you, and I may be the only person who can stand between you.”

This news was less upsetting to him than it seemed to be to her. That she cared at all about his sorry hide pleased him more than it should.

“What is he planning to do?”

Her eyes were moist. “They are going to poison Caliban. When you came down to find out what had happened to him, they mean to cave in your head with a rock.”

He grimaced. As plans went, it was hardly sophisticated. It could easily have failed. But what did Minerva mean by betraying her guardian? Why had she done it?

There was a lump in his throat as a myriad of delightful possibilities flashed through his mind. But that way, madness lay.

He coughed. “Just how were they planning to poison my poor, innocent wolfhound?”

“It sounded like they had a toxic lichen to feed him, stuffed inside a dead rat.”

“Ha! They must have mistaken Golden Lichen for Vulpicida. I’m pleased to say that no harm would have come to my dog from that. Besides, I’ve trained him not to eat carrion. We earn our meat from the people of the village and share it between us.”