Page 81 of The Scottish Duke
“I could make up a poultice for you,” Lorna said.
“You would?”
“I just need to gather up my supplies.”
“You needn’t bother,” Abby said. “You’re a duchess now.” She frowned at Lorna. “Are you sure you’re a duchess?”
“I am. I don’t feel like a duchess, although I’m not altogether sure how a duchess is supposed to feel.”
“Special,” Abby said, surprising her. “Especially if you’re married to the Duke of Kinross.”
She’d forgotten. Abby was one of those maids who was forever sighing after the duke. Since she’d been in that group, she couldn’t be critical. What would Abby say if she heard that the man was far more than his appearance?
“I need to see Nan. Would you take word to her?”
Abby surprised her again by shaking her head. “It’s Mrs.McDermott you need to see, Lorna. Your Grace.” Abby frowned again. “She’s the one with the authority to pull a maid from her tasks.”
There was more to this duchess thing than she’d considered. She needed to study everything from a different point of view.
When Abby left, she put Robbie down in his cradle and sat on the edge of the bed. She wasn’t tired. Giving birth hadn’t exhausted her as much as enlivened her. She wanted to do something, but what did a new duchess do?
She slid from the bed and walked to the dressing room and opened the armoire. There, beside Alex’s starched shirts, were her two dresses. How Matthews must dislike their juxtaposition in such a ducal place. She was surprised he hadn’t used her garments as polishing rags for the silver buttons on Alex’s suit jackets.
They married for one reason: to protect their son. Why didn’t everyone realize that? Alex felt nothing for her. If she was feeling anything, it was gratitude. That’s all.
She would have to make arrangements to gather up all her herbs, bottles, and equipment. Some of them were dangerous and couldn’t be left out for anyone to find. In a few days she would take a carriage—or should it be a wagon?—back to the cottage. Perhaps Peter could go with her. Or maybe it would be better to keep everything at the cottage.
Her figure was still not what it had been. Louise said it would take a few weeks until it was. What should she wear for her meeting with the housekeeper? In the end there was no choice. She changed her nightgown for another one her mother-in-law had furnished her with a matching wrapper. It was a lovely yellow with pretty flowers embroidered on it.
How strange to dread meeting with Mrs.McDermott. Was it because the housekeeper had lectured them all about proper decorum around the Russells?Remember you are being paid a fair wage to treat their belongings with care. Don’t, above all, behave above your place. You are on staff atBlackhallCastle. Remember that and be proud. A great many people would like your position.
Or did her dread have anything to do with how the housekeeper treated her at the cottage? The woman’s disapproval had been palpable. Surely the housekeeper would approve now that Reverend McGill had married them.
Robbie fussed at that moment, as if to correct her assessment of the situation. She’d done one thing right. This perfect child was proof of that. She went to the cradle and gazed down at him. He didn’t open his eyes, just made a face and fell back asleep.
How like Alex he appeared. Would he grow up to be as devastatingly handsome? Pray God life would be kinder to her son than it had been to his father. The duchess’s words came back to her.
He’s brooding and a loner. He has a sorrowful past and he’s handsome. What better target for their gossip?
How many times had she seen him from the conservatory and wanted to put her arms around him in comfort? Or make him sit down so she could massage his shoulders? Or bring him a cup of tea? Or urge him to quit his office to go and rest?
She wanted to care for him, talk to him, share his thoughts and fears, and reassure him. She wanted to be the person to whom he came to argue a point, test his reasoning, and reveal his discoveries.
In the night, he’d turn to her and love her until they both lay gasping and blissful. In the daytime, he’d think of her and remember those moments. Or perhaps he would even seek her out in order to test his memory and hold her for a time.
Perhaps what she felt for Alex, Duke of Kinross, was a bit more than gratitude. She had a choice, though, didn’t she? To let those emotions live and flourish or quash them as soon as possible.
She’d never been promised a lifetime of happiness, but she’d had one night with Alex. Memories of that night would have to last a long time, maybe even a lifetime.
Suddenly, one of the double doors of the sitting room swung inward so hard the handle hit the wall.
She glanced up to see that it wasn’t Mrs.McDermott but Mary striding toward her, dressed in a dark maroon riding habit with a crop in her hands. She was slapping the whip against the floor as she walked, the black plume in her hat bouncing almost like a warning.
Lorna glanced back toward the cradle, grateful that the sounds hadn’t disturbed the baby. She walked out of the bedroom, leaving Mary to follow her.
Mary’s cheeks were mottled with large pink splotches. Her eyes narrowed as she stopped only feet from Lorna.
“You can’t be the Duchess of Kinross. You’re a maid.”
