Chapter Ten
“Mrs. Seymour has declared that she won’t leave her bedchamber.” Nia had brought in a bucket of milk earlier and had remained in the kitchen. She helped with the tasks she could, but her abilities were not in the kitchen.
Eve flipped a farl on the hot griddle. “She is requiring you to bring her food on a tray?” Nia looked tired. She really oughtn’t be carrying trays about.
“She is requiring Duke to do so,” Nia said.
That was not surprising. “His family demands a lot of him, and I have the impression that most of those demands are that he dedicate his time and energy to making them happy when they are determined not to be.”
Nia stirred the butternut squash soup in the pot hanging over the fire. “That makes me a little nervous about having this house party at the Greenberrys’ home. They are his aunt and uncle, after all, and, thus, part of the problem.”
Truth be told, Eve was feeling much of that same apprehension. “Colm didn’t seem to treat Duke the way his grandmother does, which gives me hope that Colm’s parents don’t either.”
“Duke did say his aunt and uncle are good people,” Nia said.
“I cannot imagine Artemis would allow even the gentleman and lady of the estate to cause her Huntresses grief.” Eve slid the now-cooked farls off the hot griddle and onto a serving platter. “And should it be necessary, she has taught all of us to fight battles.”
“There’s to be a war at Fairfield?” Nia laughed a little.
“Mrs. Seymour will be handed over to her son and daughter-in-law before reaching Fairfield. That should prevent war from breaking out.” Eve set the serving platter on the worktable. She took up the pleasing but practical soup tureen she’d found among the serving dishes and carried it to the large fireplace. “We’ll fill a separate bowl for Mrs. Seymour and one for myself.”
Food had already been brought to the stables and to the former innkeeper.
“You aren’t going to eat with the rest of us?” Nia ladled while she spoke.
“If our unexpected guests are connected to the ton , word of my work in the kitchen might very well make its way back to Society. That wouldn’t be good for either of us or our brothers.”
The tureen was beginning to feel a little heavy.
“It seems Society would prefer people who have fallen on difficult times starve rather than learn to survive.” Nia shook her head. “It’s unfair.”
“Yes, it is.” Heavens, the reality of that had been crushing her these past few days. “That should be enough soup.” Eve carried the tureen back to the worktable and set it down. She placed the matching ladle into the thick, autumn-hued soup, the handle settling into a notch in the lip of the tureen designed specifically for it. The lid fit tight enough to offer reassurance that the soup would stay warm and be unlikely to splash out.
She arranged the warm farls on one side of the serving platter, then placed five bowls and spoons on the other side.
In the next moment, Duke stepped into the kitchen. Her pulse tripped about as it had begun doing every time she saw him. “Anything I can help with?” he asked.
Eve pulled herself together. “If you’ll carry the soup tureen, Nia can carry the platter. I’ll prepare a tray for your grandmother.”
Nia took up the platter. “Eve’s not eating with us,” she told Duke in a tone of tattling.
Duke looked at Eve. Was that disappointment she saw in his eyes? She didn’t like seeing disappointment there. Could he not go back to laughter or amusement or pondering? But then again, if he was disappointed not to have her eat with him, that was actually a rather flattering prospect. “I did say I would have to hide in here,” she reminded him.
For just a moment, he seemed as though he meant to argue. But he didn’t. Which caused Eve a surprising amount of disappointment. She needed him to recognize and agree that she had no choice but to keep her role in the kitchen a secret. It was crucial. Yet she wanted him to want to have her nearby.
“I’ll return for Grandmother’s tray in just a moment,” Duke said, then lifted the tureen from the tabletop.
Please stay. But she couldn’t say that out loud.
She instead began preparing Mrs. Seymour’s meal: A bowl of hot soup. A perfectly triangular farl. And she scooped a baked apple from the dutch oven set among the coals and placed it in a small bowl. She arranged the needed utensils and a white linen napkin on the tray as well.
Duke returned as she finished preparing the tray. “Is that for Grandmother?”
She nodded. “I’m sending a baked apple with everything else. But the rest of the apples can be taken out into the public room once those there have finished their soup.”
He stood beside her, near enough for his captivating eyes to draw her in once more. “You are going to take time to eat, aren’t you?”
Words, Eve. Think of some words. “I will.”
He stayed beside her, not taking up the tray. “I’ll come in here and eat with you.”
Oh, that was tempting. Keep your head . “That would raise too many suspicions. I’m certain the family out there has sorted your social standing as well as Nia’s. Should either of you take your meals with the cook, they’d find it odd. Best not risk drawing scrutiny.”
He nodded. “I cannot argue with such sound reasoning.”
She wouldn’t have objected to at least a momentary return of his disappointed look. But she wasn’t certain she could have retained her grasp on logic, and she very much needed to.
“Feel free not to argue with the wisdom of helping me clean up after they’ve gone up to their room. I’ll welcome help with that.”
He almost smiled; she could tell he did. “Thank you.”
That was not what she would have predicted he would say. “What are you thanking me for?”
He lifted one black eyebrow. “I asked you that same question earlier, and you wouldn’t answer. I think I will follow your example and launch yet another guessing game between us.”
That teasing declaration, tossed out so casually before he left, stayed with her as she ate her own meal, rendering her surprisingly giddy at first. Thankfully, she had herself sorted by the time Duke returned an hour later with his grandmother’s empty tray. Eve was in the process of washing the soup tureen and serving platter along with the bowls and utensils that Nia had brought back to the kitchen from the public room.
“The Marlows have retired for the night,” Duke said. “Nia is helping Grandmother prepare for bed. I am here to act as a scullery maid.”
“That is the answer, isn’t it?” She added inarguably too much enthusiasm to her expression, hoping to make him laugh. “All your life you’ve dreamed of one day being... a scullery maid.”
“You have sorted me entirely, Eve.”
She shook her head. “I doubt anyone has ever sorted you entirely.”
The flicker of amusement she enjoyed so much returned to his eyes. “Are you saying I am a mystery?”
“Yes,” she answered emphatically.
Some of his amusement dimmed, uncertainty taking its place. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No.” She quickly dried her hands on a rag and turned to him. “As someone who is transparent—often to a fault—I envy you a little, that you’ve learned to tuck away those parts of yourself that you’d rather weren’t known to everyone.”
“How is it you intend to keep your work here a secret if not revealing things is such a struggle for you?” He pulled off his frock coat and hung it on the back of a chair.
“Fate is on my side with this secret.” She turned back to the washbasin. “I won’t ever interact with the family who is sheltering here with us. And should your grandmother ever raise the topic, I need simply make an offhand mention of either of her children, and she will be immediately distracted.”
Duke came and stood next to Eve. “You and Nia have been exceptionally patient with her, and I appreciate that. I suspect you are discovering why it is that all the companions who have been hired to live with Grandmother have eventually thrown up their hands and quit.” He rolled back the cuffs of his shirt. “Put me to work, Miss O’Doyle, but with the understanding that I have never done this before and will likely be rubbish at it.”
“You didn’t talk nearly this much during the last house party nor during your brief time in London,” she said. “I am going to take that as irrefutable proof that you find me utterly delightful company.”
Something shifted in his gaze. It grew warmer, more focused on her. Even the air around them seemed to change. There was tension and an undefined spark.
Keeping her head was proving more of a challenge than she’d expected.
“You can take up a dishrag and dry off what I’ve washed,” she said, surprised by the steadiness of her own voice. No hint of what she was feeling crept in. “If we put it all away damp, it’ll grow musty.”
And he did precisely what she’d asked, which broke some of the spell wrought by his lack of an answer a moment ago. Had he felt the space between them crackle as she had? Did he feel the lingering effects of it now?
“I took a bit of soup and farls to Mr. Evans,” she said as she took up her dish scrubbing once more. It seemed a safe topic.
“Who is Mr. Evans?” Duke asked.
“The owner of this inn. The old man who lives in the cottage.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “I never did learn his name.”
“I assured him that any supplies we use, he will be compensated for. He seemed worried about that.” She paused her work and risked looking more directly at Duke. Though his eyes were every bit as mesmerizing as ever, she wasn’t fully upended this time. “I feel a little guilty that you are bearing that expense. I have only three pounds to my name, and I need that for the servants at Fairfield.”
“I doubt very much that Colm will permit you to give a gratuity to the Fairfield staff.”
Eve shook her head. “It is expected though. And it is most certainly earned. They will be doing more work than usual and ought to be shown gratitude for it.”
Duke set his hand on her arm. The spark in the air returned in an instant. Eve held very still, afraid of breaking the contact and also inadvertently revealing what she was feeling.
“I suspect my grandmother has given you a less-than-favorable impression of my aunt and uncle,” Duke said, “but I assure you they are fair-minded and generous. I haven’t the least doubt they are offering their staff additional pay in acknowledgment of the additional work.”
That wasn’t as reassuring as he likely thought. “But it is expected that guests offer gratuities.”
“I’ll talk to Colm,” Duke said. “He’ll understand.”
She set back to her work, but her mind was far from calm on the question. Duke also returned to his effort at drying what she washed.
“There are a lot of difficult things about being poor,” she said quietly, “but the constant humiliation is among the worst.”
“I can speak with Colm, or my aunt and uncle, if you’d rather, without embarrassing you,” Duke said. “I have a great deal of experience navigating potentially humiliating situations without causing anyone distress.”
“But I don’t want you to have to do that for me.” She set the bowls she’d finished washing on the work top beside the basin. “You shouldn’t have to shoulder other people’s difficulties. I’ll not require it of you.”
“But you aren’t requiring it; I am offering.”
“I have seen how exhausted you are after defending your family to your grandmother and appeasing your grandmother on the matter of her family. And you’ve mentioned that your parents require the same mollifying of you. And when you talk about that, you don’t look just weary; you also look frustrated and sad and... lonely.” Good heavens, she was getting emotional. “You deserve not to feel that way, and I don’t ever want to be the reason you do.”
His deep voice was soft and gentle as he said, “I suspect, Eve, that you wouldn’t ever make me feel that way.”
With a shrug, she said, “I could try if you’d like me to.”
Duke smiled, truly smiled, and it was breath-catching. Now that he was done at Cambridge and would be a very eligible gentleman-about-Town, he was going to catch every young lady’s eye and break quite a few of their hearts.
And Eve was going to miss the entire thing.
“I wish you had been in London longer.” She sighed. “You never even danced with me, and I think that is horribly unfair.”
He resumed drying the last of the dishes she had washed. “I’ll stand up with you next Season. I understand the Huntresses make quite an entrance at the Debenham ball every year. I’ll finally get to see it.”
Eve was going to miss that as well. It would still happen but without her.
She began setting out a few of the things she would need in the morning to do her baking, hoping the mundane task would provide her some distraction. It helped only minimally.
From his place near the washbasin, Duke said, “You aren’t returning to London for the Season, are you?”
Eve shook her head as she set out mixing bowls. “Nia will be at more of a disadvantage in Town than we usually are, which I wouldn’t have thought possible.”
“Nia will be in London, but you won’t?”
Oh, botheration. “This is what I meant about not managing to stop myself from saying things when they flit into my thoughts.” She turned back to him, fully frustrated with herself. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone about our changed plans. Not even Nia knows yet.”
“I won’t say anything to anyone.”
She fully and immediately believed him. And there was such relief in having someone who knew what was weighing on her and the future she was facing. “Our family’s finances have always been fragile, but they’ve recently been rendered dire. Either I could return to London, or my brothers could return to school. But not both. Edmund and Scuff have to find an occupation when they are grown, or they’ll be destitute. And they need an education to do that.”
“That is an awful decision to have to make: their futures or yours.”
It really was. “I truly am not supposed to tell anyone.”
“I meant what I said; I won’t tell anyone anything you don’t specifically say that I can.”
Her sigh of relief was more than just audible; it was soul deep.
“May I ask you a question?” Duke asked.
She nodded.
“Why is your brother called Scuff?”
Despite her heavy mind, she grinned. “We all have anglicized names. Edmund’s given name is Eamonn. Scuff’s given name is Risteárd. At first, he was called Richard, but that transformed to Rich, which then became Itch. Itch turned to Scratch and ended up being Scuff. And Scuff stuck.”
Duke smiled. Legitimately smiled for the second time in a matter of minutes. Utterly and wonderfully devastating. Eve needed to think about breathing in order to remember to do it, and her heart quite suddenly forgot what its ordinary rhythm was.
“What does Scuff think of his name?” Duke asked.
“Loves it.”
Duke continued drying the clean dishes, and Eve continued fighting her urge to simply stand about watching him, waiting for another heart-stopping smile. If she stood near enough to him, maybe he would hold her hand again. Maybe she could actually make him laugh. She suspected the sound would melt her.
He dried the tureen. “The soup was delicious.”
“Thank you.” She managed two words, and sensible ones at that. Had he the least idea how much her thoughts and feelings were spinning about, he would be impressed. Best that she push forward and get herself focused once more. “I do enjoy baking, but I don’t often get compliments. Mostly because I’m not permitted to confess that I made the food.”
“That is an absolute shame.” Duke held up the now-dry soup tureen. “Where does this go?”
“Over here.” She waved him toward the high shelves that many of the serving items were kept on. “Up in that empty spot there.”
Duke stretched up and slid the tureen into place. He was standing very close, near enough to leave her with no doubt that he was strong and athletic and that he somehow managed to smell nice even with all the work they’d done that day.
He didn’t walk away immediately but turned toward her. His mesmerizing eyes slowly slid over her face. Eve’s breath caught, and her heart leaped into her throat.
“Thank you for your help.” The words were whole but whispered. It was all she felt capable of.
He inched the tiniest bit closer. “I enjoy spending time with you.” His brilliant blue gaze hovered for the briefest of moments on her lips.
“I enjoy spending time with you.” Her voice emerged as little more than a whisper.
“Likely because I am a very gifted scullery maid.”
She laughed, which relieved the intensity of the moment. She could think again. “Gifted, perhaps, but currently neglecting your scullery-ing.”
Duke bowed at the waist, a perfect replica of the way a footman bowed after receiving instructions from a butler. He returned to his task.
And Eve did her best to simply breathe.