Page 82 of The Duke's Wicked Widow
She was introduced to the butler, the housekeeper, the maid, and the footman. It was a small group of servants, but the house wasn’t that big. In fact, the four of them were a family—a husband and wife, along with their grown daughter and son.
Lady Estella, whose delicate face tugged into a small frown whenever she studied Ellie, finally shooed everyone away. “When Fawkes confirmed he’d be bringing guests, I had the guest chambers aired out. Darling, why no’ show the ladies to their rooms? Lady Aycock, I’m afraid I dinnae have a separate room for yer maid—”
Ellie held up a hand in genteel interruption. “Thank you, Lady Estella, but I have no maid.”Thank goodness. “I have been managing well enough on my own.”
The woman’s small frown grew thoughtful. “Hm. Well, we can discuss all of this in the morning.” She turned to her son. “Darling, I ken it’s late, but if ye’re up for some company…?”
She looked so hopeful, it was no wonder Fawkes smiled and bent to kiss her cheek.
“Of course, Mother. I’ll meet ye in the sitting room?” At her nod, he offered Merida his hand. “Come on, I’ll put ye in the nursery. It’s no’ the nursery anymore, of course, but it’s where I slept until I got so tall Mother had to move me into a bigger room.”
Giggling, Merida skipped after him, Tramp’s leash in her other hand.
Ellie’s room was perfectly lovely; not as ornate as her chambers at Cumnock House, nor even her father’s home, but wonderful nonetheless. There was a door to an adjoining room and a small bed with plenty of pillows. The crackling fire in the hearth made the whole place cozy, as did the gentle way Fawkes squeezed her hand before he released her.
To her surprise, she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep almost immediately, and woke feeling refreshed.
After being directed by a beaming Mrs. Clutterbuck, Ellie found Fawkes and Merida in the dining room where a simple breakfast had been spread. “Will your mother be joining us?” she asked.
He winced. “My mother, despite her frail appearance and obsession with natural cures, advocates strong spirits before bed. Medicinally. I’m impressedImanaged to make it out of bed this morning, I cannae imagine—Och, good morning, Mother.”
Contrary to his claim, Lady Estella didn’tappearhungover. She swept into the room like a miniature tornado, marched up to the table, and took both of Ellie’s hands in hers.
“My dear lass, Fawkes told me everything last night.”
Ellie’s alarmed glance at Fawkes must’ve betrayed more than intended, because his mother chuckled, a low, attractive sound.
“Well, perhaps no’everything.But he told me how that arsehole brother of mine tossed ye out on yer ear, just because ye didnae birth his firstborn son an heir. Ye were married to that scrap of a boy—what was his name?”
“Rufus, Mother,” Fawkes supplied, pushing himself away from the table.
“Rufus, aye. Ye were married such a short time before he became sick. If I’d been there, I would’ve had any number of suggestions, but of course mybrotherdoesnae speak to me any longer.”
“Mother, Rufus passed away from a wasting sickness. Yer herbs wouldnae have helped.”
The woman smiled brightly and squeezed Ellie’s hands again before dropping them and moving toward the other side of the table, where Fawkes held a chair for her beside Merida.
“Hello, dear. I’m yer Great-Aunt Estella. Once removed. Or no’ removed at all. I cannae keep these things straight.”
Merida bobbed her head in hello. “You’re great? Can I call you Aunt Estella?”
“Nay, dear, I’m too auld for that. How about Nannie? I’ve always fancied being a Nannie. Oh! How about Mimi?” Without waiting for the girl to answer—although Merida’s smile had brightened at the suggestion—Estella turned back to Ellie. “My lad likes to tease me about my herbs—they’re all under the snow right now, but they’ll pop right back up again in the spring, never ye doubt. And my conservatory keeps my more delicate plants alive all year.”
Ellie, who had grown up with an older sister obsessed by green growing things, smiled. “I do not doubt. And do you use your herbs for medicines, my lady? Faw—I mean, Mr. MacMillan has proven to be something of a physician in his use of potions.”
The Duke of Death.
Yes, but he’d also taken away her pain, a tincture he said he’d made for his mother.
His mother waved dismissively. “There’s nae need for formality, dear. Call me Estella, and I shall call ye Danielle, now that I ken ye’re no’ actually related to those dastardly Aycocks.”
“I call her Ellie,” spoke up Merida, toast in hand. “So does Fawkes.”
Estella nodded. “Then I shall too. To answer yer question,Ellie, I dinnae make the concoctions my Fawkes does, but my garden was his earliest supplier. I was the one who bought him his first book on the subject, and later his decocting set.” She sounded so proud! “And his first potions were things he made for me.”
She sent her son a fond look, and Ellie couldn’t help smiling.
“He is an accomplished man, Estella.”And the Duke of Death?
