Page 394 of From Rakes to Riches

But then from somewhere in the depths of the house, they heard a door slam and a woman’s harsh sob.

Lord Thurlow stepped away from her and cursed aloud. “Go to bed. I’ll take care of this.”

“But what is it?” she asked, trailing him as he strode to the door.

“My father.”

And then he went out into the dark corridor without even a candle to guide him. Victoria hesitated. Would the earl wantto see her when he was in distress? Could it make everything worse? Or could she help? For a long moment she wanted to remain there, to avoid the confrontation she knew might happen. But she had spent a lifetime doing that, and it had only made her an easier person to lie to.

She chose to disobey her husband. She donned her dressing gown, grabbed a candleholder, and followed him.

The house was coming back to life. Victoria should have felt foolish in her nightclothes, but everyone else was dressed similarly as they came down from the servants’ quarters at the top of the house. She saw the head cook, the butler, two footmen, and several maids. They milled about in the entrance hall, as if awaiting orders. Victoria began to push her way through them, but as they realized who she was, they all fell back, leaving her alone in the center of the room.

Smith the butler gave her a proper bow, as if he were clothed in his livery instead of a robe. He had hastily donned his white wig, which was slightly askew. “My lady, do forgive this commotion.”

“Is this something that happens often?” she asked, setting down the candleholder.

“Occasionally, my lady.”

“And does my husband usually handle it?”

This time he hesitated. “No, my lady. The earl’s valet or nurse do.”

“Then who was crying?”

“The nurse.”

“Oh.” She straightened her shoulders. “Perhaps they need my assistance.”

Smith’s eyes widened. “But my lady?—”

She walked past him and down the corridor to the earl’s chambers. The nurse was standing alone outside the door,sobbing piteously. This was someone she could help, Victoria thought with relief.

“Nurse Carter,” she said, putting a hand on the woman’s trembling arm, “do tell me what’s wrong. Surely it can’t be this bad.”

The tall woman hugged herself, tears running unchecked down her face. “I tried to help him, milady, I did. But when his legs start painin’ him, nothin’ helps, and his temper strains somethin’ fierce. Please, milady, I’m doin’ me best. I don’t want to lose me position!”

“I’m certain your position is not in jeopardy. Lord Thurlow will handle everything.”

But the woman burst into fresh tears. “Milady, it’s me fault it got this far. Lord Thurlow isneverto handle things. It only makes the earl worse!”

Victoria frowned as she patted the nurse one last time, then walked to the doorway. There was a tray and its contents scattered on the ground between the earl and his son. A servant knelt between them, cleaning up the mess, his shoulders hunched as if he could make himself disappear.

Lord Thurlow stood in profile to her, staring at his father. Frustration and anger warred in his expression, obliterating his usually pleasant mask.

“Father, you must cease tormenting the servants.” His voice was so very controlled.

“They’re mine to do with as I wish,” said Lord Banstead loudly. “You’re not the earl yet.”

Victoria saw pain and sleeplessness etched across the old man’s haggard face. For the first time she pitied him. She could not know what it was like to face one’s imminent death, to lose control of everything one had worked for, everything that gave one pleasure.

Lord Thurlow gripped his hands together behind his back. “I never said I was the earl, but someone has to manage the household, and you refuse to do it.”

“Are you saying I don’t know how to rule what’s mine?”

“Do you hear yourself? You are not some king whose every wish has to be granted.”

“But I deserve the respect of my title. What’s going on around here?”

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