Page 75 of The Scottish Duke
Pulling up the sheet, she covered the bodice of her borrowed nightgown and forced a smile to her face.
He, of course, was sartorially perfect as always.
His face was round, almost pudgy, with a double chin. He’d always appeared brown to her, with his thick brown hair and brown eyes that were always narrowed. He had a barrel chest with short legs and a curious way of walking. She often wanted to ask him if he’d ever been at sea because he had the rolling gate of the sailors she’d seen in Inverness.
She and Matthews didn’t converse, however. She wasn’t on his level, a fact he’d made perfectly clear when she was on staff.
“He’s in the dressing room,” she said.
The man was an inveterate gossip, passing along all sorts of stories. He didn’t really care if they were true; what mattered to him was whether they were salacious. Or if he’d learned the tale before anyone else. He would, no doubt, pass along that the duke had been sleeping on a cot.
She might as well tell him the rest.
“His Grace and I were married yesterday,” she said.
He stopped halfway to the dressing room but he didn’t turn around. Had she startled the man into apoplexy? She doubted it.
Matthews slowly turned, looking her up and down in a contemptuous perusal.
“You’re the Duchess of Kinross?”
She was grateful for the Dowager Duchess’s warnings, but she honestly hadn’t thought that a member of the staff would be the first to ridicule her.
Although she didn’t know anything about being a duchess or a wife a day ago, she hadn’t known anything about being a mother, either, and she was managing that well enough.
“Yes,” she said, “I’m the new duchess.”
Matthews didn’t say another word, just marched across the expanse of the room and into the dressing room, closing the door harder than necessary. Didn’t the fool care if he woke the duke?
Evidently, he didn’t care about waking the baby, either.
Robbie let out a startled wail. She sent an annoyed glance in the valet’s direction before picking up her son and bringing him into the bed with her. Arranging the covers in a mound to give her some privacy in case Matthews came storming out of the dressing room, she put Robbie to her breast.
He fussed for a bit, making her wonder if he could feel her irritation. Or maybe he was sensitive to her fear.
She didn’t want each day to be marked by confrontation. She didn’t want to have to justify her existence each time she encountered someone like Matthews. Would the rest of the staff behave in a similar fashion? Nan hadn’t, but then, she’d been the truest friend imaginable.
Robbie finally settled down. For the next ten minutes she was left in peace with her son, the problems of her new position pushed aside for more elemental concerns. Would she be a good mother? Was he getting enough milk? Was she doing this right?
She concentrated on Robbie’s intent, determined infant face, seeing in his focus more than a hint of his father. Would they be the same in temperament? What would it be like to rear someone like Alex? She needed to ask the duchess.
A sound made her glance up to see Alex standing there, appearing ducal. His black suit showed off his snowy white cravat. He was freshly shaved, hair brushed and shining.
She, no doubt, looked like a maid who’d worked all day, more than a little messy and in need of a wash and a change of clothing.
As if he’d heard her thoughts, he spoke. “We have to arrange for a lady’s maid for you.”
“Good heavens, no.”
One eyebrow went up, an expression she’d seen the duchess wear. Part incredulity, part irritation, it gave her a clue to what he was thinking.
“I haven’t the slightest interest in having a lady’s maid. I would probably offend her on an hourly basis. ‘What are you doing nursing your child? Why isn’t he in the nursery? You should be thinking of your wardrobe rather than your son.’ I have absolutely no intention of being dictated to by another person.”
“Has anyone dictated to you?”
His eyebrow regained its normal appearance as he walked toward her. He sat sideways on the edge of the bed, one knee drawn up, and reached out with one hand, stroking a finger over Robbie’s cheek.
“He’s hungry this morning,” he said.
