Page 39 of The Duchess' Replacement

She laughed.

Charles stood stunned. The chit had the audacity to laugh.

She sighed then dared to look bored. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I missed your question. Will you please repeat it?”

Charles took a deep breath and felt his right eye begin to twitch.

“I asked you what is the meaning of this.” He gestured to the boy William, who was standing scared next to the open carriage door.

Good. He should be scared. They all should be scared.

Sarah looked at William and then back to Charles. “I’m not sure what you’re implying, Your Grace. I went into town today and William accompanied me, as he should have. He was quite the guide when it came to the townspeople.”

A slight buzzing sound accompanied his twitching eye.

Charles brought up his hand in question.“Did you say townspeople?”

Sarah laughed… again.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Sarah nodded to William and made her way to the door where Charles stood.

“There are people who live in the town who are commonly referred to as townspeople. Although, from what I’ve heard, I’m not surprised you are not aware of their presence.”

Sarah’s eyes cut to Charles’s as she passed him then she left him to walk further into the house.

“Samuels,” she called back to him. “Is dinner ready? I’m famished from all the lovely conversations I’ve had with the residents.”

Samuels had come to stand behind Charles, just within the house.

“Yes, Your Grace. Dinner will be served shortly.” He answered Sarah’s call from where he stood.

“Wonderful.” Her voice grew softer as she ascended the staircase. “I shall be down promptly. I hope to see you there, husband.”

Charles was left staring at William. The boy was wilting under his stare. Charles cracked his neck as he stalked to the footman who was know quivering in his spot by the carriage.

“Where did you take her?” Charles towered over the young man.

“Just into town, Your Grace.” His voice shook with fear which fueled Charles.

“And who did she speak with?” Charles leaned into him.

Countless situations ran through Charles’s head. Who did she speak to? What did they tell her? Does she know about his family?

“Answer me!” He roared.

William winced. “The modiste, Your Grace. She spoke with Miss Cordell and bought some ribbons.”

Charles narrowed his eyes. “Who else?”

The boy swallowed, his throat bobbing with the effort.

“Mr. Crowfelt and some others, Your Grace.” The footman’s voice was shaky and high pitched.

Charles cocked his head to the side. “The butcher?”

William shook his head fervently. “Yes, Your Grace.”

Charles tilted his head. “What could she possibly talk about with a butcher?”

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