Page 11 of Harpy of the Ton
Stubborn creature! Why wouldn’t he do as she bade?
She glanced behind him at the column of smoke rising from the bonfire, and an idea took shape. If he refused to take heed of her words, she would seek satisfaction by other means.
“Very well,” she said. “But you need food—I won’t have you say we’re ungenerous to the staff. Go to the kitchen. Tell the cook I sent you.”
He arched an eyebrow.
“Must I repeat my request?”
“Very well, seein’ as you’ve asked so politely.”
He inclined his head, then set off for the kitchen, whistling a merry tune.
What abeast, to take such amusement from her distress!
But, as she smoothed her hair into place, she smiled at his retreating back.
He’d had his amusement—now she would have her vengeance.
Chapter Four
Lawrence pushed thelump of cheese around the plate, but no matter from which angle he looked, it was still as unappealing as a cowpat. The least the cook could have done was scrape the green bits off. The bread wasn’t any better, with a texture guaranteed to dislodge a tooth.
Lawrence pushed the plate aside, and the cook sighed while the butler watched him from the head of the table, a glass of ale in his hand.
“Forgive me, Mrs. Broom. I’m not that hungry.”
“I believe it’s I who should be asking your forgiveness, Mr. Baxter,” she said. “You’ve worked ever so hard these past days, and we can’t give you a decent meal. What must you be thinking?”
“That you’re a good woman seeking to do her best under trying circumstances,” he replied. “Doubtless the master of the house enjoys finer fare.”
The cook let out a laugh. “Mrs. Green’s so mean with her housekeeping that weallhave to make do with scrapings.”
“Lady Smith-Greento you, Mrs. Broom,” the butler said.
“Oh, stow it, Mr. Head!” the cook cried. “She might have airs and graces, but she’s as common as the likes of you and I, for all that she’s Lady Arabella’s aunt.”
“Lady Arabella?” Lawrence asked. “Heraunt’sthe housekeeper?”
The cook let out an explosive noise of contempt.
“She’s not the sort to sully her hands with anything remotely akin towork. But she holds the purse strings, and we must make do with what we’re given.”
“Mrs. Broom, it’s not our place to gossip about our betters,” the butler said, pushing his ale aside. He pulled out his pocket watch. “I can’t sit here idling. His Grace is due back for dinner.”
The butler stood, and the cook followed suit. Then he gave Lawrence a pointed look.
Cursing the hierarchy that existed even below stairs, Lawrence rose to his feet. After the butler left, he resumed his seat, and the cook relaxed into hers.
“Mr. Head means well,” she said. “He takes his duties a little seriously, that’s all, especially seeing as the master’s a duke. A fine position, that is—butler to a duke’s household.”
Lawrence glanced around the kitchen, which was smaller than that at the King’s Head. Hardly indicative of a ducal palace.
“Is this the duke’s ancestral home?” he asked.
“Bless me, no!” The cook laughed. “That’ll be Middlewich Hall—near York. Sold to clear his debts, it was.”
“Sold?”
