Page 23 of The Duke of Scandal

“Yes, the name rings a bell. Eleanor is a pretty girl, fair hair, blue eyes?”

He did indeed remember seeing Eleanor, though not dancing with her. She had been a bright spark amid the constellation of aristocratic beauty that evening.

“So, Worthingham, eh? An old family, I believe.”

“Indeed, the Dowager Countess and I have spent many pleasant hours discussing genealogy. They trace their ancestry back to the reign of the Plantagenets, which is marginally further back than we do.”

“Well, perhaps I will see them in the morning. Depending on how this looks,” he again indicated his wounded lip.

Olivia shook her head. “Oh, when will you grow up Edward. These escapades are fine for a young man with no responsibilities. But you are Duke of Wrexham now.”

Edward’s light manner slipped away and he regarded his aunt with a stony face.

“I am aware of that. Perhaps I cannot shed the persona of the rogue. Maybe that is what I am.”

“You are a Bolton,” Olivia said with finality.

“You said there was a second thing,” Edward said, changing the subject.

“A young veterinarian surgeon has been waiting on your pleasure in the kitchens all evening. I had Samson tell him you were unlikely to be free but he insisted on waiting. I believe he has been involved in some work on your estate. Something ghastly involving livestock no doubt. I don’t want him cluttering up the place. Shall I tell him to go and come back tomorrow? Or the day after?”

Edward sipped at his brandy.

A vet? What sort of vet consults with a Duke in the middle of a private function? Can this evening get any stranger?

“Your mind is clearly in another place. I will tell the young man to go. He can make an appointment…”

“No, I will see him,” Edward said suddenly.

A look of chagrin passed across Olivia’s face, she looked down to hide it but Edward caught it.

She does not want me to see this young man. Why would that be?

“In fact, I will go and see him immediately. I do recall a vet was being called in to examine the latest stock brought into Englefield. I’ve authorized the purchase of some Tamworth’s to replenish the bloodline up there. It will be interesting to hear what he has to say.”

Draining the last of his brandy, he strode from the room. Olivia followed him as he headed for the concealed entrance to the servant’s staircase at the end of the hall and behind a bookcase that was hinged like a door.

“Go and see to the Worthinghams,” he instructed her at the door. “Make sure they are comfortable and tell them I will see them at breakfast. Make up some story to explain my absence and be sure to brief me before I come down in the morning please.”

He grinned boyishly and then disappeared down the spiral, stone steps. He had made a game of taunting Aunt Olivia since boyhood and still derived childish pleasure from seeing the twitches of irritation she tried to hide when he seemed to act the fool. He walked along the narrow corridors that ran beneath the main body of the house, allowing servants access to all parts of it without being seen by residents or guests.

It was a maze that even experienced staff could find themselves lost in. Edward found his way to the kitchens unerringly. Pushing open double doors topped with frosted glass, he strode in. The air was thick with the heat of cooking, the steam of boiling water, and the babble of conversation. A round-faced young man with fair hair was eating a slice of cake while chatting with the cook, Mrs. Miniver, and two scullery maids.

All three leaped to their feet at his entrance, dropping into low curtsies. The young man got up more slowly, brushing crumbs from his tweed waistcoat, then offering his hand.

“Your Grace, I am Lucius Worthingham. Veterinarian surgeon.”

Edward took the hand firmly. “Worthingham? That name again. Seems I have a houseful of your family this evening, Mr. Worthingham.”

“Oh? Would that be the Midwenshire Worthinghams? I am but distantly related, hailing from Somerset myself.”

“Indeed. Well, you’ve been waiting for me, apparently. So here I am. What do you have to tell me so urgently?”

Lucius looked at the staff and then leaned close. “If I could speak to you in private, Your Grace?” he said.

Edward looked at the cook and her helpers and sighed. “Mrs. Miniver. Why don’t you and the girls take an hour for yourselves. I think our guests this evening will be replete by now with the excellent food you’ve already served us. Well done.”

When the grateful bobbing and curtseying was done, Mrs. Miniver herded the scullery maids away down the corridor. Edward took a seat at the large kitchen table, put a foot upon another, and waved for Lucius to be seated also.

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