Page 78 of The Duke's Pet

On entering the duke’s study, she found him pouring tea. Mrs. Cook was with him, her hands clasped as she spoke quietly.

“It is not a slur on your abilities, I assure you,” he said. “I merely think the house and the cooking is too much for one person. It was remiss of me not to see that sooner.”

“But really, Your Lordship, it is not too much trouble.” She glanced in the direction of Jemima, though it was clear her eyes were unseeing.

“We will talk about this again.” He rested his hand on Mrs. Cook’s shoulder. “And thank you for this delicious breakfast.”

“Yes, Your Lordship. You are welcome, Your Lordship.” She bobbed her head, then moved past Jemima, one hand slightly in front of herself as if checking the coast was clear.

When the door was shut, the duke sighed. “That didn’t go down well.”

“Did you suggest help?”

“Yes, she denied that she needs any.”

“She clearly does. Anybody would.”

“I wonder if you might speak to her. Perhaps she’d listen to another woman.”

“Of course I will.” She took the tea he handed her. “Thank you.”

Naturally Jemima was happy to speak to Mrs. Cook about getting help. Maybe she could sell the idea as her needing to share her vast cooking knowledge and skills with new, young staff. Pass on her legacy so to speak in the form of taking on an apprentice.

“There is fresh bread and cheese on the table,” the duke said.

“I’m hungry.”

“You always are.”

She wanted to add that she was also hungry for him. Had been the night before and that morning but held the words in. He’d said she was a lady yesterday, and surely that wasn’t the kind of thing a lady would say.

He sat next to her and began to eat. The study, she saw now, was in more chaos than usual.

He spotted her looking. “Ignore it, I am. Next week I will throw myself into the task.” He downturned his mouth, as though not altogether happy with the thought.

“Next week,” she repeated.

His gaze caught hers.

For a moment they stared at each other. It was as if words were passing between them. Emotions too. But neither spoke. Neither voiced those feelings.

When Jemima had finished her breakfast, the duke took her teacup and replaced it with a book. “Now we will read.”

“Yes, Sir.” She pulled in a deep breath. This was what she wanted. It would benefit her future, wherever or whatever that was.

He opened the book and sat close. Taking her hand, he set the tip of her right index finger beneath the first word on the first page. “You know that word.”

“Dog.”

“Yes, well done.” He moved her finger to the next word down. “Now think about this one. What is the first letter?”

“I don’t know.”

“You do, you’ve written it lots of times and it’s in one of the animals you learned.”

Jemima stared at the stick and circle. She recalled it, but wasn’t sure in what context.

“Think of the animals again.”

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