Page 52 of The Scottish Duke
She didn’t bother to respond. Mary evidently wanted to insult her. Once she had, perhaps she would simply leave.
“I wouldn’t have given you this cottage if I were Alex,” Mary continued. “Instead, I’d offer you a lean-to, or a place in the barn with the other bitches until it was time for you to whelp. When you were done, I’d make sure you were gone.”
“Luckily for me,” Lorna said, “you aren’t the duke.”
“How proper you sound. Almost as if you had some breeding.”
“You’re very critical of other people for a poor relation,” Lorna said.
She shouldn’t have retaliated, but she was not going to be Mary’s victim.
She was no longer a maid at Blackhall, her only recourse to bend her head and listen to complaints and comments. A few of the staff had gone to Mrs.McDermott, who, in turn, had taken the matter to the Dowager Duchess. Unfortunately, no one could control Mary’s vitriolic tongue. Those mornings when assignments were changed, you could hear the moan when someone was given her rooms to clean. Mrs.McDermott only narrowed her eyes, a quick reprimand without a word spoken. At times Lorna wondered if caring for Mary’s rooms was penance for bad behavior.
Like it or not, she was going to bear the duke’s child. She was not going to be treated like one of the poor servants who had no other choice but to endure Mary’s abuse.
“Why aren’t you living in your own establishment?” Lorna asked. “Why are you here at Blackhall? You’re living with your brother-in-law. How does that give you a pedestal on which to view others?”
Mary’s face was immobile, but Lorna had the impression that her control was hard won. A muscle flexed in her cheek and her chin jutted out as she tilted her head back.
“My father was an earl. My sister married a duke. My family has status. You have nothing.”
“No, we both have nothing. At least I have the sense to recognize it.”
Mary took a few steps toward her.
“He might have made you his mistress, but he doesn’t care anything about you.”
“Will you leave?” Lorna stood, clasping her fingers across her belly.
Perhaps she’d been too quick to wave Peter off. She was very much afraid that Mary was going to strike her.
“I’ll see you gone from here, you and your bastard. That is, if you survive the birth.” Mary stared at her stomach. “My sister died bringing his child into the world. What a pity if that should happen to you.”
There was so much hate in Mary’s words that Lorna shivered. What must it be like to wish another person dead?
She remained silent until the woman turned and strode to the door. Only then did Peter come out of the kitchen, staring after Mary.
“You’ve made an enemy,” he said.
Lorna nodded, certain of it. “She loves the duke,” she said, the words causing Peter to turn and gape at her. “She sees me as a threat. She always looks at him as if he’s steak and she’s a starving puppy.”
The expression in Mary’s eyes promised that her words weren’t simply idle boasts. The woman would do anything to banish her from Blackhall.
Louise, Dowager Duchess of Kinross, checked her appearance in the mirror prior to heading for the family dining room for lunch.
Circumstances had developed perfectly. Now all she had to do was institute her plan.
Alex had never made any secret that he had no desire to marry again. Despite his responsibility to the dukedom, he’d been stubbornly adamant about that fact. Thank heavens Lorna had attracted him enough that he’d lost his head. If he hadn’t, they wouldn’t be in this predicament. Thank heavens, too, that Lorna was the sweetest girl, one she could wholeheartedly see as her daughter-in-law.
All she had to do was expand on that initial attraction while eliminating any obstacles.
One of those was standing in the hallway waiting for her.
Louise bit back her sigh, forced herself to smile, and greeted Mary.
“You have to stop him,” Mary said. “You have some influence over Alex, Louise. You have to do something. Make him send her away.”
“You’re speaking of MissGordon, I presume,” Louise said, continuing toward the dining room. Perhaps if she kept walking it would dampen Mary’s enthusiasm for this particular conversation.
