Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Morgan stared at the card in his hand, reading the name for the third time as though it might change.
Arabella.
She was in his drawing room at this very moment, having arrived unannounced, again, with some flimsy excuse about returning a book he’d supposedly lent her.
A book he had no memory of lending, which almost certainly didn’t exist. The intelligent thing would be to send her away.
Again. But Morgan was tired of being intelligent.
Two days had passed since his spectacularly humiliating display of drunkenness, and he hadn’t been able to look Ellie in the eye since.
Every time he saw her in the hallway, he remembered the chair beside his bed.
Every time she curtsied and murmured “Your Grace,” he wondered what mortifying confessions he’d slurred in his brandy-addled state.
The distance between them had grown from awkward to unbearable.
Surely, Ambrose was right. Perhaps the solution was to simply… move on. Find a distraction. Arabella was beautiful, willing, and refreshingly uncomplicated. A few nights in her bed might be exactly what he needed to purge Miss Graham from his thoughts.
It was worth a try, at least.
“Tell Lady Fairfax I’ll join her shortly,” Morgan told the footman. “And have refreshments sent to the drawing room.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Morgan straightened his coat, ran a hand through his hair, and made his way to the drawing room with the grim determination of a man going into battle.
Arabella was posed artfully on the settee, her burgundy gown arranged to show off her figure to best advantage. She looked up as he entered, her smile predatory.
“Morgan, darling. How good of you to see me.”
“Lady Fairfax.” He moved to the chair opposite her rather than sitting beside her, a small act of self-preservation as he assessed the situation. “You mentioned a book?”
“Did I?” She laughed, a calculated sound. “How silly of me. I must have been mistaken.”
“I see.”
“But since I’m here…” She leaned forward slightly, her neckline dipping in a way that was more than intentional. “Perhaps we could continue the conversation we started the other night? Before we were so rudely interrupted.”
Morgan opened his mouth to respond, but a soft knock at the door cut him off.
“Enter,” he called.
The door opened, and Ellie stepped inside, carrying a tray with a decanter of sherry and two glasses. Morgan’s chest tightened.
Ever dutiful, Ellie kept her eyes carefully downcast as she moved into the room, her movements precise and controlled. She set the tray on the low table between Morgan and Arabella, not looking at either of them.
“Will there be anything else, Your Grace?” she asked quietly.
“No, thank you.”
“Wait.” Arabella’s voice cut through the air like a blade. She was staring at her with an intensity that made Morgan’s instincts prickle. “I know you.”
She went very still. “I don’t believe so, my lady.”
“No, I’m certain of it. I never forget a face. It is a talent of mine.” Arabella tilted her head, studying her like a cat studying a mouse. “Where have we met before?”
“We haven’t, my lady. I would remember.”
“Are you certain? Perhaps at some ball or dinner party? Where were you employed before?”
Morgan saw her hands tremble slightly before she clasped them behind her back. “I have only worked in His Grace’s household, my lady.”
Arabella’s eyes narrowed further, but before she could press the matter, Morgan intervened.
“That will be all, Miss Graham. Thank you.”
Ellie curtsied quickly, too quickly, and turned to leave.
“Actually,” Arabella said suddenly, her voice saccharine sweet. “Could you pour the sherry first? I’m absolutely parched.”
Ellie froze as if shot, then turned back slowly. “Of course, my lady.”
Morgan watched, uneasy, as she returned to the table and lifted the decanter with steady hands. She poured the amber liquid into the first glass, then reached for the second.
Arabella leaned forward as though to accept the glass and then, in a movement so swift Morgan almost missed it, her hand jerked out and knocked the glass from Ellie’s grip.
The crystal shattered against the table before tumbling to the floor, sherry splashing across the expensive Persian carpet in a spreading stain.
“Oh!” Arabella gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “How clumsy!”
Ellie immediately dropped to her knees, trying to gather the broken crystal. “I’m so sorry, Your Grace. I’m terribly sorry, my lady. I don’t know how it happened…”
“Clearly you don’t know how to properly serve drinks,” Arabella said coldly, examining her glove as though checking for stains. “Oh, Morgan, I really must insist you find more competent staff. This is the second time I’ve witnessed this girl’s incompetence.”
Morgan had been watching the entire exchange, and he’d seen exactly what happened. The deliberate movement of Arabella’s hand. The calculated shock in her voice. The way Ellie had immediately taken the blame, her head bowed, avoiding eye contact. Something cold and sharp settled in his chest.
“Miss Graham,” he said quietly. “Please stand up.”
Ellie rose slowly, her hands full of broken glass, her face pale.
“It’s only a carpet,” Morgan said, his tone gentle. “Mistakes happen. You can clean it up later. Please, take the glass to the kitchen and attend to your other duties.”
“Your Grace, I…”
“That will be all.”
Her eyes met his for just a moment, wide, startled, grateful, before she curtsied and hurried from the room, still clutching the broken crystal. The door closed behind her.
Morgan turned to Arabella, his expression carefully neutral. “That was unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate?” Arabella laughed. “Morgan, the girl is clearly incompetent. I could recommend several excellent agencies who could provide you with proper staff. People who know how to handle expensive crystal without destroying it.”
“How kind of you.” Morgan’s voice was flat. “But I’m quite satisfied with my current staff.”
“Are you?” Arabella’s eyes glittered. “Because from where I’m sitting, you seem to have a particular… fondness for that one.”
“I’d be careful with my next words, if I were you, madam.”
“Oh, don’t play coy with me, Morgan. I’ve known you for years. I saw the way you looked at her just now. The way you defended her.”
“I did nothing of the sort. I do not care for someone who meddles in my affairs, and you would do well to remember whose home you are standing in.” Morgan stood abruptly. “’”
She rose as well, moving closer to him with the confidence of a woman who’d never been refused. “I came here thinking we might… rekindle old flames. But now I’m wondering if your interests lie elsewhere. In decidedly inappropriate directions.”
“I think,” Morgan said carefully, “that you should leave. Your opinions are unwanted, and of no consequence to me.”
Arabella’s expression hardened. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’m quite tired this evening. Perhaps we can continue this conversation another time.”
For a long moment, Arabella simply stared at him, her face flushing with anger. Then she laughed, a brittle, ugly sound.
“Twice,” she said. “You’ve dismissed me twice now. For a servant.”
“I’m dismissing you because I’m tired,” Morgan said evenly.
“Liar.” Arabella snatched up her reticule, her movements sharp with fury. “You’re making a fool of yourself, Morgan. Over a common maid who probably can’t even read.”
“Watch. Yourself. That is quite enough.”
“Struck a nerve, hmm?”
“You are becoming a bore, the way you drone on about a topic of no consequence, as I said. “Goodnight, Lady Fairfax.”
“This isn’t over. You cannot do this to me…”
“It is over. We are over.”
Arabella’s eyes narrowed, flicking between Morgan and the door Ellie had disappeared through. Something calculating crossed her features, something that made Morgan’s skin crawl like a snake grazing an ankle.
“We’ll see,” she said softly. “We’ll see.”
“Do not push me,” he said with a growl.
Then she slithered from the room in a rustle of silk and fury, not waiting for him to escort her out. Morgan heard the front door slam a moment later, hard enough to rattle the windows.
He stood alone in the drawing room, staring at the spreading stain on his carpet, and wondered what exactly he’d just done.
In the kitchen, Eliza set the broken crystal carefully on the worktable, her hands shaking so badly the pieces rattled against each other.
Lady Fairfax had recognized her this time. Well, not fully, or not yet… but she’d been close. So terribly close.
And worse, she’d seen. She’d seen the way the Duke had looked at her. The way he’d defended her.
Eliza pressed her hands flat against the table, trying to steady herself, trying to breathe through the panic clawing at her chest.
Lady Fairfax was dangerous. Vindictive now, she knew it. If she started asking questions, started digging into Eliza’s past…
It could destroy everything.