“I assure you, he is not available right now, Your Grace,” their butler’s voice sounded.
“I do not care if he is in the bathtub, scrubbing away. I will see him. Now!” the voice, deep and laced with rage, sounded again.
Suddenly, a different kind of anger erupted in Joanna. She did not like it when people raised their voices at others, and especially not when they did it to their venerable butler Jenkins—a man Joanna had held in high regard since she was a mere child herself. The kindly man had always had a comforting word for her when she needed it, a smile when her day was unpleasant, and a piece of sweetmeat whenever she struggled with her dreaded pianoforte lessons.
She got up and made her way to the door, followed by her sisters.
“… leave your calling card, and I will gladly inform His Lordship that you were here, Your Grace,” Jenkins said then, but the caller was not satisfied.
“I will see your master now. I will not leave unless I do,” the man thundered.
Joanna hurried into the hall, outraged by the way this caller was speaking to Jenkins. She rounded the corner and came to a halt when she spotted a tall man standing with his back to her, still in the process of berating Jenkins, who stood a head shorter than him.
The indignation within her rose like a tempest. “Excuse me! How dare you!” she exclaimed, storming forward. “This is not your house, and Jenkins deserves better treatment than this.”
The stranger turned to face her, and his dark eyes met hers. His dark hair fluttered around his sharp features, and his pink lips suppressed a bemused smile as he looked at her. “Is that so? And who, pray, are you to tell me how I am to behave?” He tilted his head to the side and stared her down the way a headmaster might do to a naughty student.
“Who am I? Who areyou? You are in my home, shouting at my butler. Who has the audacity to act in such an ungentlemanly fashion?” She tapped her right foot on the floor, sending an echo up the walls.
Tall and imposing, the man smirked at her as he bent slightly at the waist as if to come close to her height. “I am KennethStratford, the Duke of Wells, if you must know. I am here to see the Earl of Carlisle, not to engage in petty disputes with his underlings,” he retorted in a measured tone that only managed to enrage Joanna further.
Underling…
Her blood boiled, and her hands curled into fists. She crossed her arms, her voice laced with defiance. “Well, if you wish to avoid disputes, you’re doing a terrible job of it. This is no way to address someone in their own home.”
The Duke, undeterred, stepped closer, his voice low but firm. “I’m not here to discuss manners with you, as I said. Who are you, anyway?” He looked her up and down dismissively, and she squared her shoulders, not about to be put down by a pompous duke with no manners.
“I am Lady Joanna Blackmore. The Earl is my father,” Joanna declared, her gaze staunch. “And I demand to know why you think it’s acceptable to speak to our butler in such a manner.”
Jenkins, attempting to defuse the situation, assured, “My Lady, it’s quite all right. His Grace was only?—”
But Joanna cut him off, her gaze fixed on the Duke. “It is most certainly not ‘all right.’ No one should be subjected to such rudeness in their workplace.”
The Duke scoffed and shook his head. “Lady Joanna, dare I say it? You’re too young to understand the situation. I suggest you step aside. My business is not with your butler, but your father.”
Joanna’s eyes flashed with determination. “I may be young, but I know enough to recognize impertinence when I see it.” She put her hands on her hips, when in the back of her mind, she realized that it was in fact rather impertinent to speak to a guest in the way she was speaking to this man right now.
If she had been in her right mind, she’d never have dared to say such things to anyone, let alone a duke.
However, her father’s actions had put her in a rotten mood, and the Duke’s horrible behavior had only added to her anger. She could not put her father in his place and correct him, but this man? Yes, he would most certainly understand that some behaviors were not to be tolerated.
The air crackled with tension as the two remained locked in a standoff. “Well, Your Grace? This sort of outburst might be acceptable in your estate, but let me assure you that we do not tolerate it here.”
“My Lady, you’re only delaying the inevitable. I will see your father. I have business with him, and your attempts at stalling me will amount to nothing.”
Stalling? What is he talking about? Is he mad as well as rude?
“My Lady, I can…” Jenkins started, but before he could finish his sentence, heavy footfalls sounded down the hall, and then, the Earl appeared, his eyes narrowing at the commotion.
“What is the meaning of this?” the Earl demanded, addressing both Joanna and the young, angry Duke.
When the two men locked eyes, the Earl’s countenance changed, though by only a fraction.
“Kenneth?”
The Duke shifted slightly. “Walter,” he replied.
So, they did know one another—and well enough to use their Christian names.
