Page 84 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl
“You can only imagine how upset and indignant Cook was, as well as the baker, in being asked to deliver lessons, except the lady wasn’t wanting lessons, or so she claimed.” Burgess added that last part in hushed tones. “Made her leave, and she was quite sad about it all.”
Wakefield felt a flash of anger. He’d sack them all for that offense.
“Well,” Burgess said with the relish of a man who clearly found himself reaching the best part of his story, “it should so happen that Miss Smith awoke before all the staff.”
Wakefield’s ears pricked up at that particular point of the story. “All the staff, you say?”
Clearly impatient with the interruption, Burgess nodded.
“So you’re telling me right now, only just now, I’ve been sitting here waiting for the lady and she’s been up and gone since…” What the hell time did servants wake up? he wondered to himself.
“That I cannot tell you.”
Wakefield closed his eyes. “Why the hell not, Burgess?”
“Well,” the other man said like he was speaking to a lackwit, “it’s just I cannot report on what time the lady woke up. Only that when the rest of the staff appeared in the kitchen, they discovered the lady there.”
Christ, Burgess still hadn’t answered. “And what the hell time was that then, Burgess?”
The young butler appeared to finally catch on with his employer’s displeasure. He jumped.
“Half past four this morning, sir! Your lordship!” Poor Burgess kept brandishing forms of address. “M-my lord.”
Wakefield drew a breath in slowly. Bloody hell, he’d become the manner of employer who went about startling and scaring his servants. Wakefield looked at his watch.
“Burgess,” he said measuredly, striving at least for the servant’s benefit, “that has been eight hours ago.”
The slight Adam’s apple in the servant’s throat moved wildly. “Yes, my lord.”
“Where did Miss Smith go after the kitchens?” A sweat had begun to appear on the other man’s eyebrow. Snatching a kerchief from his pocket, Burgess wiped at the moisture.
“Yes,” Wakefield said. “As in, when the lady concluded whatever it was she did in the kitchens, where did she go and when?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say, my lord,” Burgess said, his voice strained.
Wakefield waited and waited and continued waiting.
“And why is it you can’t say?” Why, when he’d specifically told the other man last night when he returned with Cressida that he was to watch after her at all costs and report to Wakefield if he observed anything suspicious.
“You said to report if I observed something suspicious,” Burgess said, clearly following Wakefield’s unspoken thoughts. Then, in a surprising show of spirit, Burgess brought his shoulders back and stood at his impressive six feet one inches, just two or three inches shy of Wakefield’s own height. “Because as I saw it, my lord, I didn’t perceive the lady’s actions to be suspicious in any way.”
Of course, he hadn’t. “Who went out with her?” Wakefield demanded, starting from the room and heading past Burgess.
Burgess kept up in pace. “No one, my lord.”
Wakefield saw red. He stopped so abruptly, Burgess went flying past him and then had to double back. “No one?” Wakefield seethed.
“As I last left it, the lady was still in the kitchens.”
“Still?” he asked incredulously.
“At least right before you rang, I had eyes upon her.” A dusty color sprayed the other man’s cheeks.
Wakefield narrowed his eyes. “Why?” His butler was smitten with Cressida Smith. Something about that set Wakefield’s teeth on edge.
“I was only in the kitchen because of your directive. Absolutely the only reason that is…” Burgess stopped his rambling and nervously cleared his throat.
“Yes. Well, good work, Burgess,” he said dryly, as irritation crawled in his gut. “You’re dismissed,” Wakefield said.
