Page 57 of The Scottish Duke
“No, that was Angus. Poor old boy’s been gone for a few years now.”
“Yet you still have a pony.”
“Mary’s to thank for that. She rescued Old Gretchen from someone who was ill-using her. I think she paid twice what the pony was worth.”
Mary was, no doubt, nicer to animals than she was to the people who served her. Was it something the peerage were trained to do in the nursery? Along with learning their letters, were they taught to ignore anyone who wasn’t their rank? Or if they did notice them, to treat them with derision?
He stopped and looked at her.
“What is it? Have I said something?”
She shook her head and he blessedly dropped the subject.
“I found a few volumes on herbs,” he said, glancing down at the books in his hands. “And one on Blackhall, in case you were interested.”
“I recognize the books on herbs. They’re from the library. I confess that I borrowed a volume or two from time to time,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
Books were to be read, and when they weren’t, it seemed almost sad. She knew he used the great library at Blackhall, but she doubted anyone else did. One of her tasks had been to dust the books periodically, and she could always tell which volumes were well-used and which had never been moved from their spot on the shelves.
“I wouldn’t have if I’d known,” he said. He joined her at the door. “Are you going to tell me what annoyed you?”
She had a choice: to be entirely honest with him or to attempt to be as charming as he was being. She had little hope for the latter and she doubted the wisdom of the former.
“Lorna?”
She glanced up at him. He’d used her name before, but had he ever studied her so intently? The effect was disconcerting; it was as if he could not only see her, but into her.
He entered the cottage, closing the door behind them. She watched as he put the books in the bookcase in the parlor and returned to her side. Slowly, probably to give her time to move away if she wished, he reached out and took one of her hands.
Her fingers curled around his. For just a moment it seemed as if they were in perfect accord, if one could discount their circumstances. She could almost envision the tableau they made: duke and female servant. A girl in trouble because of the lascivious attentions of a peer. A story of ruination that might have appeared in one of the scandalous newspapers she’d been forbidden to read as a young girl.
But it hadn’t exactly happened that way, had it? She was as much to blame as he for that night. Perhaps more so since she’d stepped outside her station.
“Are you going to tell me?”
“You really don’t want to know, Your Grace,” she said.
“And if I said I did?”
“Honesty might be a great virtue,” she said. “But it can be overrated. Besides, I’m here on sufferance, although I’m sure you won’t admit it. If I make you angry, what’s to keep you from snapping your fingers and banishing me from Blackhall?”
Where would she go then?
She pulled her hand free and walked into her bedroom again.
He followed her.
“You think I’m that much of a monster?”
She turned to face the duke.
“You’re not a monster at all, Your Grace. I don’t know you. Despite what we might have shared and share now,” she added, glancing down at her belly, “I have no idea who you are.”
“Then why does it annoy you when I try to show you? Or if I want to learn who you are as well? Do you want my word that I won’t banish you from Blackhall regardless of what happens between us? Then you have it. I give you the freedom to say anything you wish or do anything you want to do. I shall not retaliate in any way. You have my word, and no one can say that I’ve ever broken my word.”
She studied him for a moment before speaking.
“I’ll tell you what annoyed me. I’m going to ensure that my son notices everyone. He’s not going to behave like a segment of society is completely invisible. He’s not going to be served and waited on and cleaned around without being aware of the people who do that work.”
