Page 16 of The Texan Duke
The footmen who were on duty at night would not report again for work until the late afternoon. The kitchen staff under Addy was always up at dawn, but they didn’t work past supper. The maids assigned to clean the public rooms began their tasks earlier than those designated to service the family’s quarters.
How could she get the duke out of the kitchen before more of the staff arrived?
He seemed to be savoring his scones and said so in more than one comment to Addy. The cook preened, her cheeks deepening in color.
Some people thought that the mark of a good cook was someone who sampled their own wares excessively. If that were true, then Addy was not a good advertisement for her own skills. She was stork thin with a narrow face and long neck. Although she was taller than most of the females on staff, her shoulders were continually slumped, giving her a shorter appearance.
“You disappeared last night,” the duke said, glancing at her.
Elsbeth looked at him, startled. He’d actually noted her absence. What did she say to that?
“You were my uncle’s ward?”
She nodded.
“No one introduced us.”
No, they hadn’t.
“I’m Elsbeth Carew, Your Grace.”
He startled her by extending his hand. “I’m Connor McCraight, Miss Carew.”
She didn’t know what to do so she took his hand, finding it large and warm. They shook hands, the first time she’d ever done so. She removed her hand, placed it on her lap, and stared down at her tea.
He really needed to leave the kitchen.
Chapter 6
“What do you think of Bealadair, Your Grace?” she asked.
“I’m used to more room,” he said.
“You don’t think the Duke’s Suite is spacious enough?” she asked, slightly offended.
The suite was a beautiful set of rooms. She had helped the girls tidy it up herself. In addition to a sitting room with a view of the river, there was a magnificent bedroom with en suite attached. The 13th duke had even, in his later years, transformed one of the adjoining bedrooms into a small library for his use on days when he didn’t feel like going downstairs.
Were four rooms not enough for this American duke?
“Your home in America must be monstrous,” she said.
He glanced over at her. “I think you could probably put my house in a quarter of Bealadair,” he said.
“Yet you don’t think it’s spacious enough.”
He frowned at her for a moment before he sat back and chuckled.
“I wasn’t talking about the house, Elsbeth,” he said. “But the land. I’m not used to the hills and the trees. Or even the river.”
The land? “You don’t have hills and trees and rivers in America?”
“We’ve got all of that and more,” he said, still smiling at her. “It’s just that they’re not all crammed together like they are here.”
Was he intimating that Scotland was so much smaller than his country? Of course, that was undeniably true, but must he be so arrogant about the fact?
“Have I offended you, Elsbeth?”
He really shouldn’t continue calling her Elsbeth. Still, at the same time, she didn’t feel that it would be entirely proper for her to correct a duke, even one so contemptuous of his dukedom.
