“She used to be the Duchess’ nanny. In fact, she was also the Duke’s head nursemaid, so it was a natural progression from head of the nursery to head of the housekeeping staff.”
Mayson just shook his head. “You amaze me. I’ve been here for months, and even though the younger staff often confide in me, this is the first I have heard of this.”
“Her Grace is a very lonely person, Mr. Rudge. You have no idea how much your simple kindness with the special foods and carrying things up from the kitchen for me have meant to her.”
“I am glad to have been of service,” Mayson said, a little embarrassed.
Mrs. Swinton finished her drink and said, “This has been lovely. But I must go. I will need to be up before Her Grace to make sure of plans for the day.”
“Of course. Thank you for sharing my late-night repast. I do not often have the opportunity for extended conversation with anyone.”
Mayson rose, and politely pulled out Mrs. Swinton’s chair, assisting her to rise. “Mrs. Swinton, this has been so pleasurable. Could I beg a favor?”
“That depends on what it is,” she returned, warily.
“Nothing untoward, I assure you. But I believe that we will have the same half day this se’nnight. Could I persuade you to a picnic in the park below the bowling green? I contemplate nothing but sharing food and conversation, I assure you.”
“I would be delighted, Mr. Rudge. This has been a pleasure. I shall look forward to sharing food and conversation.”
She offered him her hand, and he took it gently in his. He bowed over it, and politely kissed the air above it, as if she were a lady.
“Thank you for the kind invitation,” she said, withdrawing her hand politely. “But now I must go lest I oversleep tomorrow.”
She turned and hurried away, her soft slippers making little shushing sounds on the stone floor.
Mayson held one hand over the other, savoring the memory of the feel of her hand. He should plan something special for the picnic. Something purchased with his own money, not drawn from stores. In his mind, they were already seated at the stone table near the old willow tree, with the brook rushing nearby. She was beyond extraordinary.
Chapter 11
Darrius frowned at the account balance sheet his solicitor was showing him.
How could it have possibly gotten so low?
“So you see, Your Grace,” the fellow was saying, “Unless we turn off some of the workers or reduce the kitchen budget, there is not enough money for a new carriage.”
Darrius sighed. “Well enough. We shall simply have to refurbish the old one.”
The agent was silent for a few minutes.
Darrius stared at him. “Let me guess, not enough to refurbish it, either?”
“Your Grace,” his solicitor said deferentially, “We have just exactly enough to get through spring planting. When the crops begin to yield, then we might be able to refurbish the old carriage.”
Darrius thought for a few minutes. “Perhaps we could make do with fewer plowmen...”
“Ill advised, Your Grace. Fewer plowmen mean fewer fields tilled. Fewer fields tilled...”
“Means reduced crops, which leads to reduced income,” Darrius finished the sentence for him. “What if we were to borrow the money?”
“Your Grace, you have mortgaged everything to the hilt. Borrowing more is ill advised. As it is, if the crops fail, or the market falls, you will have difficulty paying your notes.”
“So I must go about looking shabby, advertising to the world that the Duke of Tolware is reduced to wearing last year’s fashions and riding in an elderly carriage that was purchased more than twenty years ago? What happens if an axle breaks?”
“I am sure I don’t know, Your Grace,” the man said apologetically. “Perhaps,” he added slyly, “You should move up your marriage to Miss Notley. The dowry might go a long way toward staving off creditors and might even extend to a new carriage and perhaps a new suit or two.”
“Faugh!” Darrius snorted in disgust. “I’ll be doing my duty by that dry stick of a woman soon enough. You would wish me to be doing it sooner?”
The solicitor kept on a strict poker face. “You never know, Your Grace, she might surprise you with unexpected passions.”
