Page 58 of Captivating the Countess
If Lady Dalrymple stayed here, so would Drucilla. He hoped Helen did not expect him to heal her daughter. She needed a knowledgeable bone doctor. He could call in one from York, he supposed, although London would be better. Or Edinburgh.
The family would damned well miss having the duke’s healing energies.
On that thought, Rain put aside his ledgers and set out for his father’s suite. The entry hall was still bustling with guests departing for the afternoon train, so he took the back stairs. He knew he was missing an opportunity to learn more about all the young misses who had been presented with such hopes to him. Perhaps he should ask them if they knew mathematics. He seemed to have a penchant for bluestockings with the backbones of generals.
Hearing feminine voices in the ducal suite, he entered without knocking. His father was in his favorite chair by the fire, warmly wrapped in a blanket, with a mug of what Rain hoped was hot broth in his hand.
Bell was there with the maid he’d assigned to her, the one with buckteeth and one crossed eye. Whenever his sisters arrived, lady’s maids had to be summoned from thin air. He assumed they’d taught this one her duties out of desperation for enough hands. The fact that Button was a talented seamstress had raised her to a position someone of her looks would not normally attain.
“Lady Craigmore is a clever lass.” The duke greeted Rain with a smile and winked at the countess. “She has determined that my valet should not be confined to my rooms seven days a week. And even though he needn’t dress me any longer and is quite useless except to force me to take my medicine, he should be able to do mending and cleaning in places where he can talk to others. So Button is to wait on me during the hours Lady C is in her office and doesn’t need her.”
“Most clever,” Rain agreed. “If only my sisters would all depart and hadn’t need of Button as well. Perhaps now that this latest round of entertainments has ended, there will be less demand for her valuable time.”
Looking as if she’d rather disappear into the wallpaper, the maid picked up the tea tray, curtsied, and fled to the hall.
The duke contentedly sipped from his mug.
Bell was the one who shot him daggers. “Button is a hard worker. She can mend clothes while she keeps His Grace company. And if she’s assigned to me, then she is of little use to your sisters. They prefer the other maids, in any case. She’s mostly been consigned to clothing repairs, although she’s most excellent with arranging hair.”
Rain enjoyed her ire. Other than her request for Button as her maid, she had not bothered consulting him about any of the rest. She simply did what she thought made sense. He liked that even better, although he wasn’t about to let anyone know he approved of her managing ways.
“My sisters are scheming to find ways to save their own funds by staying here. You’d think bankruptcy imminent. Anyone have a notion why that is?” Rain crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows quizzically.
The duke chortled. “You’ve only talked to the husbands, haven’t you? They pet your sisters, tell them all is well, and not to worry their little heads.”
Rain did the same. It saved on drama. But he assumed that meant Bell had talked directly to his sisters. He seriously glared at the interfering countess this time. “Estelle and Sal are with child. They needn’t be fretting over finances.”
Unperturbed by his glare, Bell poured tea. “Any woman who can bear a child has the strength to undertake any task that interests her. Men are the weaklings who break in fear of maternity. If you’ll stay with your father until Button returns, my lord, I’ll take this opportunity to carry some of the ledgers to my new suite where I can work undisturbed.”
She bobbed a pretty curtsy at the duke. “Your valet has orders to see that the kitchen delivers more soup in an hour. I believe that one is to be a cream soup. You’ll enjoy it.”
She swept out in a rustle of petticoats. Rain had to resist turning to watch.
It had taken a moment to grasp what she had done. The lady was not just clever, but a conniving witch of the best kind.
She’d cleared her maid out of her suite and told Rain she would be there all alone, leaving him to decide what to do about it.
“The two of you are wearing me out just watching you.” Sounding more cheerful than usual, the duke pushed out of his chair. “Help me back to bed. I think I’ll take a nap before my next infusion of soup.”
With concern, Rain helped his father up. “How is the pain today?”
“No pain.” The duke gestured impatiently. “Food is staying down. Bring your lady back here before dinner so we can try whatever you did again. I’ve eaten well all day.”
“You really need a man to help you.” Despite his gauntness, his father was not a lightweight. Button could not help him back to bed.
“No, I really need a woman,” the duke retorted. “And so do you. Go frig her, boy, or you’re not the man I thought you were.”
Shocked, Rain chose not to interpret this the way it sounded. “I take it you’re feeling better. We’ll be back this evening if you think we’re helping.”
Rain left the moment the shy maid returned—because frigging the countess was exactly what he wanted to do right now.
Twenty-one
Bell had foundfresh sheets and re-made the bed, casting the wrinkled linen into a maid’s laundry basket. With so many guests leaving, it would be difficult to discourage Button from moving into her new room this evening. The little maid was practically bouncing with excitement at her exalted new position. The poor thing would probably scrub floors if Bell asked it of her—but the maid shouldn’t be asked to give up her new private chamber.
She ought to be relieved to have an excuse for not allowing Rain into her suite again. But like the foolish idiot she was, she was hunting for ways to lure him back. She knew, if he married, she’d have to leave. She’d always been cautious, but she’d come here seeking new experiences outside her level of comfort. She simply had never imagined herself to be self-destructive.
She’d donned a prettier corset this morning in hopes he might come to her rooms again. She wore her best stockings and had even indulged in his sister’s perfumed soap. So when he scratched at the door in mid-afternoon, she had no excuse not to set her ledger aside and let him in.
