Page 57 of A Feud with the Duke

She was late coming down to breakfast and Harold was convincing himself that she was mortified, unable to face him.

Damnation! When will I learn? I take one step forward and then gallop a furlong in the opposite direction.

Harris entered the room and moved to stand beside his employer, where he sat at the head of the breakfast table.

“Yes, Your Grace?” Harris said.

Harold thought he heard the faint tone of mockery. Disapproval. It incensed him further. Only part of his anger was concern over Alice. The other part of it was what he had seen after he had left Alice’s room and forced himself to step back from the door. The third floor was not maintained as the rest of the house was. He did not care to have servants among his collection too often. The risk of something being damaged by a hand unappreciative of its value or fragility was just too great.

He, himself, spent more time at Redwood than at Middleton Street. As a result, the dust lay thick upon the carpet of the hallway on the third floor. Particularly, from the staircase to the door of the second bedroom, the guest room. There he had glimpsed, in the sudden glare of white moonlight, a footprint. Larger than Alice’s feet and broader than his own. A heavy, booted foot, going from the top of the stairs to the door of Alice’s room.

“Which member of staff went up to the guest room last night?” Harold asked.

Harris frowned as though taken by surprise. “None, Your Grace.”

“That is not true. Someone went up the stairs and along to the door of the guest room. I saw their footprints, man!” Harold barked.

“Could they have been…your own, Your Grace?” Harris replied.

“They were not there when we retired for the evening.”

“Then, you yourself went to Lady Hathway’s door after you had retired for the evening?” Harris replied, staring straight ahead.

Harold stood so suddenly, his chair toppled. He stepped into Harris’ eyeline. The man reluctantly met his gaze.

I will not hide away in front of this man’s prudishness. I do not have to justify myself to him!

But, equally, this was how the reputations of women were irreparably damaged. A rumor spread among household staff quickly reached the ears of the Ton.

“I saw it this morning as I came down for breakfast,” Harold growled, furious at himself for the lie.

“Of course, Your Grace. I apologize for my frankness but it is my duty as a Christian to speak out in such circumstances. I pray that Your Grace will not hold it against me.”

“What, pray tell, in my actions has seemed to you to be un-Christian,” Harold said.

“If I have permission to speak freely?” Harris said.

“Speak, man!” Harold shouted, slamming his hand against the table, and making the settings tinkle.

“Having a single woman quartered in a part of the house in which you are the only other resident. The kind of behavior I witnessed in the street outside. It is unseemly for one who has been granted nobility by God. For, just as the King is chosen by God, then so too must the King’s Lords.”

When did this man find religion. I was not aware of it in him when I employed him. It would not matter but, God’s blood, I will not be judged by my own employees.

“As you find my behavior so objectionable, then I will not expose you to any more of it. I am terminating your employment. I will provide you with a reference and give you a month’s wages. But I want you out of the house today.”

Harris’ chin lifted and his mouth twisted into a sneer.

“Very good, Your Grace,” he said.

The words were entirely correct but the tone said that he regarded himself as superior to Harold. That tone clenched Harold’s hands into fists but at that moment, Alice entered the breakfast room. She smiled brightly, looking radiant even if she was wearing the same clothes as she had the previous evening. Those clothes were now dry and slightly wrinkled from their previous soaking. But to Harold, she made them look fresh and new.

“I am sorry for my tardiness. I slept like a log and woke late,” she said.

Her presence calmed Harold. He found himself smiling, pulling out a chair from the table next to his own.

“It is your privilege,” he said.

“Shall I have breakfast served, Your Grace?” Harris asked coldly.

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