Page 48 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl
A babe? She couldn’t care for herself and Trudy. How in hell would she ever be of any help to a babe?
“…On my word, and on my honor, if you find yourself in the family way, I promise to look after you and the babe…”
Granted, Benedict promised Cressida and any child they might have conceived would receive financial support. A small sob gurgled in her throat, the sound of her misery lost to the din of activity around her.
To believe she’d actually thought he’d offer to marry her, when his offer had been anythingbut.
She pressed a fist against her mouth.
Forget his love. She knew now that’d always been a castle in the air. Benedict didn’t want her. Based on the horror with which he’d fled the bedchamber, he didn’t even like or care about her.
All the many servants’ swift movements suddenly became too much, and her head spun.
It was too much. Cressida needed to get away from this place.
She jumped to her feet. Cressida managed to take but a single step when pitchy voice called over the noise in the kitchens. “Ye can’t go, my lady.”
Half-crazed, Cressida looked at the woman who’d shouted that directive. The old woman, maybe somewhere in her fortieth year, possessed a mouth more capable of a scowl than a smile. “Ye hear me, gel?”
If that wasn’t the way. Everyone made it a point to bully Cressida about, but this from a stranger? That was a step too far.
Annoyance brought Cressida firmly back from the precipice she’d been about to topple over. She pulled her shoulders back. “Are you speaking to me?” she asked quietly, infusing a warning there.
Which the servant apparently had little experience with. The woman snorted. “Who else would I be talking to?”
Cressida took another step to leave, but the dogged woman matched her movements.
Too exhausted emotionally and physically to be brought low, Cressida flattened her lips into a tense line. “I was assured I’m permitted to leave at any point,” she informed, coolly self-possessed.
The older woman snorted. “You were also assured you’d be given a carriage to see you on your way, and that hasn’t happened yet.”
“That is a fair point,” Cressida muttered.
Wonder of wonder, the gruff redhead cracked a smile. That expression of mirth proved short-lived.
The servant looked down at Cressida’s untouched plate, and frowned. “You got a problem with the meal?” Before Cressida could protest, the woman gave her a once-over and grunted. “You could benefit from the healthy-sized portions you’ve got there. You’re all skin and bone.”
Cressida glanced at the untouched plate. “No! It looks wonderful.” Her stomach growled loud enough to make the next words from her mouth the clear lie they were. “I’m not…”I’m not of a place where I am able to eat.Not without her stomach revolting, and then her humiliation would be complete.
The astute kitchen maid worked a suspicious gaze over Cressida. “You aren’twhat?”
“I’m not hungry at the moment.” Which was ironic because Cressida lived in a constant state of hunger.
She curled her fingers, waiting for the woman to go see to her responsibilities that weren’t Cressida.
Her wait proved a long one.
The other woman finally pointed at her. “Sit.”
Surprisingly, Cressida found herself doing just that. Something in the woman’s tone didn’t leave room to be disobeyed.
The moment she sat, the older woman claimed the bench across from Cressida.
“I’m not certain the proprietors would want me to be taking up your time,” Cressida demurred.
“You don’t know the men who own this place,” her tablemate said without rancor. “They’re good, the lot of them are. They allow us rest and breaks, and I’m choosing to take one now with you.”
Apparently, she was to be the servant’s latest responsibility after all. Perhaps it was a mark of just how pitifully lonely Cressida was; even in her need to be alone, the fact that someone actually saw her left a lump in her throat.
