Page 62 of The Duke's Pet

“You are messy.” She reached up and wiped at the green paint on his cheek. “But it does not matter to me.”

“Are you sure?” He set about tucking his shirt in then rolling down his sleeves.

“I have lived on a farm, my father used to come in smelling of the fields and with half of them on his boots and trousers. He still ate and enjoyed his food.”

“I should try harder though, when I have company,yourcompany.” He glanced around, spotted his cravat and wrapped it around his neck. He held out his arm and escorted her from the study, across the hallway, and into the dining room.

Once again it was set for two, with the candles and fire lit. The food was already there.

“What have we tonight?” He lifted the silver warmer from one of the plates. “A pie, a specialty of Mrs. Cook’s. Sit and eat, this will do you good.”

Jemima tucked into the hearty meal. The pastry melted in her mouth, the jelly around it was sweet like berries, and the meat in the middle tender and herby. Each mouthful was a delight.

Mrs. Cook was as good as her name, and an excellent cook. She could see why the duke held onto her, despite her ailing health.

“What are you thinking as you eat so quietly and diligently?”

“I’m sorry.” She set down her fork. “Was I gobbling my food?”

“A little.” He smiled and popped a small chunk of pastry into his mouth.

“I was thinking...” She hesitated, not wanting to overstep the mark.

“Go on.”

“That perhaps Mrs. Cook could do with some help.” There, she’d said it. It had been playing on her mind and she just hoped it was the right thing to do.

“But the food is good.” He drew his dark eyebrows together. “Why would she need help?”

“It is, very, but this is a big house with many rooms.”

“And only me here... usually.”

“It’s still a lot for her to cope with, especially as her sight is fading.”

“I agree I am a messy sort, but I do not request her to tidy my study, or even my bedroom.”

“No, but...”

“Please say it.” He set down his cutlery. “I promise I won’t be offended.”

She was more worried he might sack Mrs. Cook.

“There are lots of dusty corners in this house, cobwebs too, and the rugs could do with beating and the windows and panels a polish.”

He sat back and glanced around. “It looks okay to me.”

“In this candlelight, yes, but not in the day. It’s a beautiful house, Sir, grand and with many precious pieces of furniture. They really should be better cared for.”

He sighed and reached for his wine. “I guess you’re right, but I’m not very good at having people in the house, servants. It takes me a long time to get used to them being around.”

“Does that include me?”

He reached for her hand; it was cool from where he’d been holding his glass. “No, you I have gotten used to being around surprisingly quickly.”

“And it is agreeable?”

“Very.” He smiled and kissed the backs of her knuckles.

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