Page 137 of The Duelist for the Ton
“I don’t think it’s my place to—”
“I insist,” Portia said. “It wouldn’t be right if I ate everything myself.”
“You’ve hardly eaten anything,” Tilly said. “You must—”
“Tilly, hush,” Nerissa said. “Lady Portia has been unwell.”
“But you said His Grace wanted—”
“Tilly!” Nerissa admonished the girl.
Portia sat up, shading her eyes from the sunlight, to see her maid frowning at Tilly. “Perhaps Iwilltake something,” she said. “I wouldn’t want everyone’s efforts on my behalf to go to waste. What did Mrs. Charlton pack for us?”
“Apple pie,” Nerissa said, lifting the cloth from the picnic basket. “Still warm to the touch. Perhaps you could take a slice of that?”
“Mmm, it smells delicious,” Tilly said, sniffing, “but not like any apple pieI’vehad.”
“Mrs. Charlton puts cinnamon in her apple pie,” Nerissa said. “It’s Lady Portia’s favorite.”
“Cinnamon? What’s that?”
“It’s a spice,” Portia said. “Why don’t you try some?”
“I don’t think I—”
“Nonsense!” Portia said, forcing brightness into her voice to drive away the young maid’s apprehension. Poor Tilly had known nothing but hardship in her previous household. Adam had objected to taking the girl in at first, but relented. In fact, he’d agreed to many of Portia’s requests of late.
Save one.
Nerissa reached into the basket and pulled out the pie and three plates, together with a knife.
“Let me cut it,” Tilly said. “Neither of you should be servingme.”
“Why not?” Portia said. “I’m capable of doing what you do. After all, I have arms and legs just as you…” She broke off, cursing herself as her gaze drifted to the maid’s leg.
But Tilly merely smiled and nodded. “Then let me pick some bluebells for your bedchamber,” she said, rising to her feet. She teetered sideways, and Portia reached for her.
“Tilly, do take care. Perhaps you shouldn’t…”
“It’s no trouble, Lady Portia, beggin’ your pardon,” Tilly said. “Dr. McIver said I was to walk on it as much as possible, so I could get used to it.”
“Ah yes, my brother said he’d sent for him when you were in Town.”
“It was ever so kind of His Grace,” Tilly said. “To think—a doctor taking the trouble to visit, just to seeme. And then there was…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Mrs. Platt tells me I oughtn’t gossip, especially about folk above stairs.”
“Quite right,” Nerissa said.
“I daresay my brother had plenty of visitors while in London,” Portia said.
Including one who’d given him a rather impressive bruise just below the left eye. Adam had insisted—a little too vehemently—that he’d stumbled against a door. But Mrs. Scarlet was known for her fiery temper. And, at least according to William Congreve, the fury of a woman scorned was not to be taken lightly. Perhaps he’d insulted his mistress somehow, or perhaps Mrs. Scarlet had suffered the misfortune of falling in love with him, resulting in his inevitable rejection of her.
“I saw only one visitor for His Grace,” Tilly said, “but Mr. Reeve told me not to speak of him. He’s so strict, I think…” She hesitated, blushing. “Beg pardon for saying.”
Portia smiled. “Shall I tell you a secret, Tilly? Reeve has been strict with me ever since I was a child. I often wonder if he believes I’m a child, still.”
“I’d best fetch them bluebells,” Tilly said. “They won’t pick themselves.”
“Pick enough for your room also, so you may benefit from your efforts as much as I.”
