All looked up to see the Duke framed in the kitchen doorway, his ponytail askew, his cravat undone, his waistcoat unbuttoned, and his snowy shirt grimed. Eugenia instantly jumped off the stool to curtsey, as the cook and male staff bowed. Deryn and the other women curtseyed along with Eugenia.
“I just came by to see how she is.” His gaze lingered on Eugenia.
“Unhurt, Your Grace,” Mr. Simmons said, “just shaken up a bit.”
“I am fine, Your Grace,” Eugenia murmuring at the same time. She tried to wipe her tears away before he saw them, but she knew she was too late. She did not want to admit her pain in front of the others, for then they would know how he threw her down to protect her.
“I am glad, then.” The Duke offered her a smile. “Thus far we have not found the villain, but some of the grooms are insisting upon looking. It is my opinion he is long gone by now. No doubt he bolted and took to horse the instant he realized he missed.”
“I am certain you are right,” the cook agreed. “Might I fix you something to eat, Your Grace?”
“No, no, thank you. I am not hungry, as I dined at the Mallen estate earlier. Please look after Miss Betham for me, however.”
“I certainly will.”
With that, the Duke offered a general, all-around smile and departed. Eugenia sat back down to sip her rapidly cooling tea, her shakes were finally easing. The tea tasted good, and her nausea settled once it struck her stomach. Mr. Simmons brought her a pastry, and despite her objections, insisted she eat the entire thing.
“It will help calm your nerves,” he told her.
He was right. Once she ate the sweet treat and finished her tea, Eugenia felt her old self again. “I must return to Lady Helena.” She slid off the stool and straightened her gown. “Thank you all for your kindness and concern.”
“Do you wish for an escort?” Mr. Simmons asked.
Eugenia shook her head. “I am safe enough inside the castle.”
After hugging Deryn, Eugenia walked quickly through the castle and up the stairs. Despite her confident words, her nerves drew tight as she sped through the silent fortress. She saw no one, not even a footman, and her fears chased her like a shadow. Though she scolded herself for being foolish, she also reminded herself that twice the Duke escaped death from an unknown assailant
She turned a corner rapidly and slammed headfirst into a tall body. A voice above her cursed as she staggered back and looked up. She had run into Lord Wilmot, the Duke’s brother. “My Lord,” she gasped and sank into a curtsey. “I am so sorry, I did not see you.”
“You are Lady Helena's maid, are you not?” He scanned her from head to toe.
“Yes, My Lord. I am on my way to her chambers now.”
“I say, do you know what the ruckus outside was about? I caught a glimpse from my window and thought to inquire.”
“Someone took a shot at His Grace, the Duke.”
His pale brown eyes widened. “Indeed? Why that is monstrous, simply monstrous. He was not injured?”
“No, My Lord.”
“Good, good, most excellent. Run along, my dear.”
Eugenia curtseyed again and continued her way to Lady Helena's apartments. She found her mistress nodding over a book and startled her awake as she burst through the door. Her nerves still frazzled, Eugenia shot the bolt on the door and leaned against it, shaking. Lady Helena dropped her book and rushed to her.
“Eugenia! What is wrong? You are so pale. Why, you are trembling.”
“S – someone took a shot at His Grace,” Eugenia was unable to halt the quaver in her voice. “I was in the garden – he – he came in from the stables. We started to talk when someone shot at him.”
“Oh, no!”
“I am sorry.” Eugenia sniffed back tears. “I took a fright coming through the castle.”
“You do not apologize.” Lady Helena took her by the hand and led her to the armchairs and urged her to sit. “Tell me what happened.”
Eugenia relayed everything except the conversation she had with the Duke. She confessed His Grace knocked her down and threw his body atop hers to protect her, and how her head and neck still ached from the slam to the ground. “He protected me,” she whispered, afraid her mistress would condemn her as a harlot for being alone in the garden with the Duke without an escort.
Instead, Lady Helena sat on the arm of the chair and stroked Eugenia’s hair. “He is a protector of the fairer sex, is he not?” she asked with a fond smile. “A few hundred years ago, he would have been a white knight on a white horse, rescuing damsels in distress.”
