Page 23 of Courting Scandal With The Duke
He was also exceedingly arrogant, she forced herself to remember.
‘What a delightful prospect to be sure,’ she said.
He swung around with a quizzical expression as if he sensed her underlying meaning. He was no fool, this duke, and she would be wise to remember it.
‘Countess,’ he said and bowed. ‘I have to admit a fondness for this property and the countrysidehereabouts.’
‘The view is lovely. I had forgotten how beautiful the English countryside can be—when it is not raining.’
‘You have been away a long time?’ he asked, coming to take her arm and escort her to the table. A footman she had not noticed stepped from the corner to pull out her seat. It seems even in this small house the Duke needed to stand on ceremony. A way of reminding everyone of his importance, she supposed.
Helmut, her second husband, had been the same, snapping his fingers at servants if they were too slow, demanding instant attention no matter the hour.
She smiled her thanks at the footman and sat down.
‘I haven’t been in England since I left school.’ She’d been almost sixteen and had been thrilled that Papa had finally called for her presence.
Oh, he always promised to send for her to visit him, wherever he was, in the summer holidays, but something more important always came up.
Some years, she had visited a school friend if there was time to make arrangements, or was hustled off to Aunt Lenore if there wasn’t.
One year, she had spent the whole of the summer vacation at school by herself, waiting for him to send his carriage for her, with only the cook and the gardener for company. The realisation that he had forgotten her had been devastating. It was then that she had lost all faith in him and his promises.
A tap at the door heralded two more servants, one with a tureen of soup, the other with a tray of cold meats, cheese and bread.
‘I hope you do not mind,’ the Duke said, ‘but I do not keep a chef, as I entertain here very little and luncheon tends to be a rather informal affair.’
‘Three footmen serving two bowls of soup and a few sandwiches hardly seems informal.’
He frowned and she awaited some sort of male indignation at her temerity.
‘No,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t.’ He turned to the young man who had helped her to sit. ‘I think the Countess and I can manage from here, Green. If you can remain within call, the other fellows can return to the stables unless Cook has need of them.’
Green bowed. ‘Yes, Your Grace.’ He ushered the others out of the room.
‘You asked your grooms to serve as footmen?’ she asked.
‘It was either that or ask my butler and footman to travel down from London. The fellows here don’t mind it. It makes a change.’
‘You asked them?’
‘Naturally.’
But could they actually say no?
‘They have done it before,’ he added. ‘When I have a buyer interested in looking at a horse, I feed them. It is a matter of good business. Kemp says the grooms used to draw straws for the privilege of serving the luncheon, but because some are luckier than others, it was causing friction, so he has set up a rota and they take it in turns.’
She frowned. ‘Why wouldthey be so keen?’
He raised a brow. ‘Footman get paid more than grooms.’
She should have known that. Why did she not know it? It seemed her education was sadly lacking in some departments. But then she had never really had a home of her own to run. She had always lived at school, or with her father and his extant mistress, of which there had been many, except for a very short time, when she married her first husband. And even then, there had been barely time for the ink to dry on the marriage lines before he cocked up his toes.
She had never been more relieved in her life to return to live beneath her father’s roof. But then she had been shockingly young. Little more than seventeen and a widow. And then it was off to take shelter with Helmut. Another arrogant man.
‘May I help you to some soup?’ the Duke asked.
‘Yes, please.’
