Page 22 of When He Was a Duke
But as he worked among the roses her mother had planted, Sebastian found that righteous anger was harder to maintain than he’d expected.
*
Before Sebastian knewit, Sunday arrived, bringing a day off for some of the staff. He decided to walk to the village. Perhaps he might overhear something useful about the Wentworth family?
As he set out, three house servants fell into step beside him. Mary Bright, the head maid; Prudence, Rose’s lady’s maid; Thomas Finch, a footman.
Prudence, tall and slender, had golden hair and wide-set blue eyes, her reserved nature softened by a quiet sweetness that remindedSebastian of his sister. Mary, in contrast, had a thick head of brown hair and dove-gray eyes, her expression keen and observant. Finch, with his wavy blond hair, ice-blue eyes, and athletic build, carried himself with the easy confidence of a man accustomed to admiration—likely a favorite among the maids, Sebastian suspected.
Dust stirred beneath his boots on the dirt road, well-worn by carts and hooves. They wound past fields of golden wheat, rippling in the summer breeze, and pastures peppered with sheep and grazing cattle. Tenant farms dotted the landscape, their cottages made of modest stone with thatched roofs. Small kitchen gardens brimmed with cabbages, leeks, carrots, and herbs.
Farmers and workers in sweat-stained shirts glanced up as they walked by, waving or offering nods. Mary and Finch called out to some of them. On one farm, children, barefoot and sun-kissed, chased each other near the fences, while farmhands moved methodically through the fields, scythes in hand. A merchant’s cart loaded with sacks of grain and bushels of apples came around a corner, forcing them to step aside to let it lumber past.
“You from around here?” Finch asked.
“I was living in Brighton. I’ve come home from the war only recently. Why do you ask?”
“You’re drinking up the sights,” Finch said. “I’ve lived here all my life and I forget to really look around me.”
“Yes, it’s easy to become complacent.”
“What now?” Finch asked.
“It’s easy to take it for granted,” Sebastian said. “When you see something all the time.”
“Aye. We were lucky, Mary and me,” Finch said. “Only a few get a chance to get to work up at the big house. No better positions around here.”
Mary turned her head to look at him, a grin lighting up her wan face. “I was only a wee girl when Mrs. Blythe hired me as a scullerymaid. A good wind would’ve knocked me over back then.”
“Might now too,” Finch said, grinning.
“Me mum said I was getting fat last time I saw her,” Mary said. “I didn’t take offense though. She doesn’t mean anything by it.”
“She should be kinder,” Prudence said. “Since you send all your wages to her and your little sister.”
“I have no choice,” Mary said. “What with my sister’s troubles.”
Prudence looked back to give Finch a pretty smile. He smiled right back at her. Was there something romantic between them? How nice it must be to have the freedom to fall in love. He could not lose focus on his purpose. Maybe later, after he’d proved his father’s innocence he could entertain the idea of love.
Lady Rose’s face came to mind. He shoved the vision aside.
They crested a gentle hill. The village unfolded before them, a cluster of whitewashed cottages with ivy crawling up the sides of the buildings and a church spire rising from the center. Paved with uneven cobblestones, the village square was quiet that day, other than a few wooden stalls and carts that lingered from the morning market, their owners finishing up sales before closing.
Children splashed their fingers in the cool water of the square’s fountain, while their mothers gossiped nearby. Scents of fresh bread, roasted meats, and sun-warmed lavender tickled Sebastian’s nose, mingling with the muted tang of horse manure and damp earth. A few stray chickens pecked at the ground near a wooden crate of apples left outside the greengrocer’s shop.
Prudence kept her head held high, perhaps aware that she was a lady’s maid and must hold herself to high standards. The other two, however, called out to friends, shouting across the square. Soon, they arrived at The Fox & Thistle. Finch bounded ahead to open the heavy oak door for the ladies and Sebastian. Inside, the air was thick with pipe smoke and the yeasty tang of ale, along with roasting meat and onions. Dried herbs hung from rafters in the low-beamed ceiling,darkened from age.
Finch took an exaggerated breath in through his nose. “Ah, yes, the scent of my childhood.”
They settled at a corner table with bread, cheese, and ale. Sebastian listened as his companions chatted about household gossip, searching for an opening to learn more about the family he was meant to serve.
“I’ve heard the manor’s had its share of troubles over the years,” Sebastian said, tearing off a piece of bread casually.
The three servants exchanged glances. Mary looked down at her hands.
“You mean Lady Wentworth,” Prudence said quietly. “That was before your time, of course, but it changed everything.”
“I heard she was murdered,” Sebastian said. “That must have been terrible for everyone who worked there.”
