Page 62 of A Marquess' Season of Secrets
“As all servants should,” said Lady Spencer. “I commend you for treating your servants so well, Your Grace. They must worship the very ground you walk on. I’m certain your future wife will not have any difficulties once she takes command of them.”
Juliana’s heart squeezed tightly until she could hardly breathe. Curtsying, she hurried away without further word, but instead of going to the kitchen, she went to the back door and headed to the garden, gulping in fresh air for the second time that day.
Juliana sat down on the nearest chair and hid her face behind her hands before giving in to her tumultuous feelings and wept.
***
Nash watched Juliana leave, startled by the look of despair on her face. She hadn’t seemed herself today, and he had thought to ask her about it, but an opportunity had never presented itself. However, seeing such a look on her face left him concerned and worried.
“Your servant left before she was dismissed,” Catherine said, shaking her head. “Perhaps they are not as well-behaved as I thought.”
Nash fought not to snap at the woman. She had been annoying him since the moment she sat down at his side and had hinted at marriage more times than he cared to count. While Catherine and the other women his sister had invited were lovely to look at, they were all lacking in character.
“Your sister must use a firmer hand with them,” the woman continued. “Especially with that one. If you do not mind me saying so,” she added.
“There is nothing wrong with my servants, Lady Spencer,” said Nash.
“Of course not, Your Grace. I did not wish to imply that there was something wrong. You misunderstood me.”
“Indeed?” Nash asked dryly.
“Oh, yes. I only wished to say that a firmer hand is never a bad thing. It keeps everyone in line and reminds a servant of their position.”
The woman would not like it if he told her that Isabella was possibly not a servant but a remarkable woman with many talents that pointed to someone not born from the lower classes.
I have her working as a servant, which is not fair at all, but what else can I do? I cannot have her stay in this house as anything but an employee until we know more about her. It is the only way I can protect her.
“Are you listening, Your Grace?”
Nash looked at his guest, regretting the moment he gave his permission for this dinner party. It had become one big headache for him.
“Would you excuse me for a moment, Lady Spencer?” he asked, getting up.
The woman looked up at him in surprise but recovered enough to nod. “Yes, of course.”
Nash bowed to his guests and excused himself again before leaving the room, ignoring his sister’s questioning look. She would not take lightly to knowing that he wished to find out what was wrong with Isabella and was currently looking for her, but at that moment, Nash didn’t care.
He thought to go to the servants’ quarters, but his gut told him the garden should be the first place to look. Nash had often watched Isabella walk into the garden from his study window, an activity she performed at least once a day, if not more. She usually had a little chat with the gardener before walking around the area and returning to the house.
“Where are you?” he mumbled to himself, looking out into the dimly lit garden.
Nash couldn’t explain why he felt compelled to follow her, but the need to protect her from whatever was troubling her had been strong enough to push him out of his seat and come here. He turned to his right, which would take him to the violets the gardener had recently planted at Isabella’s request.
He evidently made the right decision because a female’s soft sobs reached his ears and pierced his heart with painful accuracy. Nash took several more steps before Isabella came into view, revealing what his ears had already told him.
“Isabella?” he said.
She stilled before quickly turning away in her chair and hiding her face. “Yes, Your Grace?” she asked, her voice hoarse. “Do you need something?”
“I wish to know what has come over you. Did something happen?”
“I do not know what you mean.”
Nash came closer, stopping short of touching her. “You’re crying, Isabella. Something is wrong, and I wish to know what it is.”
“A little dirt became lodged in my eye, and it has taken much effort to wash it out, Your Grace.”
Nash chuckled. “You are not a good liar, which I think is a good quality to have. It means that you are not accustomed to lying.”
