Page 29 of The Scandalous Deal of the Scarred Lady
Chapter 19
Two letters. Two letters from the venerable Duke of York’s household awaited James when he came down to breakfast Tuesday morning. He saw the missives next to his place and halted in his tracks.
They were not the only correspondence next to his plate — the morning post was traditionally left just there, that he might look over his letters while he ate. But that these two were left very deliberately fanned out in such a way that he could not mistake the sender. Either of them.
Lucy bustled into the room, carrying eggs and potatoes which she set before him before turning back, no doubt to fetch the rashers of bacon and a selection of bread and jam. Apparently today she was a server.
Of course, she would be. My god, one would think there was not another servant in the place.
“Lucy!”
To her credit she did not flinch, only paused with a certain look he’d come to know all too well. She stood, not as respectfully as a servant ought, nor with downcast eyes, but looking at him squarely with that pointed chin of hers raised, blue eyes flashing fire, justdaringhim to say something.
At what point did I lose control of the household? Was it all at once? Or did it just creep in steadily?
Not that the other servants treated him this disrespectfully, for which he guessed he should be thankful. Lucy was…well…Lucy. And had she not been the one to raise him, he suspected that matters would be entirely different. He half suspected that the servants had no idea what to do with her and stood back and just let her go where she wished and do whatever she wanted.
Which also meant some serving girl was getting an unscheduled morning off. He sighed. This was no way to manage things.
“Was there something you needed, Your Grace?” she asked, regarding him calmly while his eggs cooled before him.
Was there? He sighed again. Her point had apparently been made. Two letters. Both from the household of the Duke of York. “Nothing, Lucy. Just…for heaven’s sake let Matilda serve breakfast. You are far too…”
Her eyes flashed dangerously, and James hastily checked himself. Telling her she was ‘too old for this’ was certainly not going to gain him any ground and would likely cost him his bacon.
“…busyto bother yourself with such nonsense. Am I to assume you also read these letters before leaving them here?” He took a forkful of eggs before they grew any colder.
If Lucy lifted her chin any higher, he’d be able to see clear up her nostrils. “Your Grace would please notice, that the seals upon each are quite intact.”
He looked at her one eyebrow raised, knowing full well that any servant worth his salt knew how to raise a seal from the paper with a hot knife and restore it again. “You seem to be adapting well to the use of my title.” He reached for the first letter, knowing there would not be a moment’s peace until he’d looked at both.
Lucy dropped into the chair next to his. “I quite seriously think you should reconsider. The offer from the Duke of York is one not to be cast aside easily or without a great deal of thought. To act emotionally...”
“I daresay, I will not likely see any bacon at this meal, will I?” He sighed. “And you are such a master of your emotions that you removed a priceless jewel from the household of a duke, why again?” A cursory examination showed the traces of the original wax seal having been at least a quarter inch to the right of where it had started. “You seem to be slipping, Lucy. There was a time the seal would have been perfectly placed.”
“My eyes are not what they used to be, Your Grace.” She bowed her head, about a meek as a lion.
James snorted. “You might as well drop the ‘Your Grace.’ When you say it like that it fails to sound quite…respectful. And see if you can get someone to bring me my bacon. I am not discussing any of this with you sitting there hovering over me.”
“Even though the matter concerns me?” Lucy asked quietly, as she started to rise.
James threw out a hand to catch her. “Stay a moment. What are you saying?”
“Do you wish your bacon or not, Your Grace?” she asked sweetly from behind her chair.
“Blast you, woman, there are at least a hundred other servants in this house, not that anyone would know it when yours is the only face I ever see. Is there not someone else who can serve my bacon? It grows cold as we speak, much like these eggs!” He threw his fork down in disgust.
Lucy bit her lip. “Allow me, I have been most selfish.” She bent and took his plate, escaping back in the direction of the kitchen with spry agility that belied her age.
James threw himself back in his chair with an exclamation of disgust. Knowing full well, she would have his entire breakfast re-made, and there was naught to do while he waited, he reached again for the first letter.
He had written to the Duke of York when he had arrived at home the previous day. Still distressed at what he had seen, of how his visit had affected Helena, he had spoken simply that he could see no way to continue on this course of action.
In retrospect, it might have been better to return the brooch to Barrington himself, rather than to trust it to Miss Barlowe, but at least the duty was done, and it should have been the end of the matter.
Though what remained to do with his household with his fortunes in such tatters was somewhat beyond him. He was already running with something of a lower staff than he should. Had that not been the case, he highly doubted that Lucy could be getting into so much mischief as she was, in co-opting whatever position suited her needs at the time.
Can we make do with less?
