Page 10 of The Remarkable Myth of a Nameless Lady
“You are not very good at serving others, are you?”
The question came as Alicia was setting the dining room table for the following morning’s breakfast, making the preparations as she’d been instructed, well in advance of the sun rising. She jumped, the silver raining down upon the table in a noisy clatter as it landed among plates and napkins.
“Your Grace! You move silent as a cat!” she scolded, then gasped when she realized what she had said. “I mean…oh, blast it all. Never mind.” She stared at the cutlery all over the table. “’Tis quite obvious I am not. Have you come to cast me out so soon?”
The Duke of Woodworth laughed and bent to pick up a fork that had landed at his foot. “I would not be so cruel as all that. A first day is always difficult. I can see that you are trying your best, despite the fact that you are somewhat unused to this manner of work.”
She took the fork, feeling stupid and entirely out of sorts. She had expected the day to be over after their own meal, but had found that not to be the case. In the kitchen the others were making bread dough that it might be set out to rise overnight. Even the men were back at work, bedding down the animals for the night. No one had warned her just how long the day would be.
Nor how early it would start. Mistress Marigold had informed her she would be expected to present herself at dawn to help with the laying out of breakfast before beginning in her other new duties.
“Is it so obvious as all that, then?” she asked, somewhat cross, realizing that this was one of those moments she ought to be deferential and likely bowing and scraping, not trying to sort silverware and put it properly around the table. That they would need so much solely for breakfast was still rather confounding and she wasn’t altogether sure where each piece went.
“I think you have not worked in a Duke’s household before,” he said, following her gaze to the place setting that she was trying to straighten. “You need to put the fork there, on the left. No, not the small one, only the large. The small ones you do not need for breakfast.”
Alicia’s cheeks were burning by now. “They showed me in the kitchen, and I have already forgotten. In truth, it has been myself and my father for so long that I am more used to setting a table for two, and that somewhat more…casually.” She fixed the place setting and stood back in exasperation. “It might be simpler to let me go now, rather than have the entire household suffer through it as I learn.”
“Nonsense, ‘tis not so hard as all that. Here…allow me to show you.” The Duke reached past her, gathering utensils, plate and napkin and taking all to a clear space further down the table. “It is simply a matter of remembering to keep your forks on the left. Spoons over here. So for your midday meal you would want the table to appear so.”
In moments he’d laid out a simple place setting. Alicia stared. “That seems altogether too many knives for luncheon,” she said thoughtfully. “Is that not the place setting for dinner?”
Now he was frowning. “Dashed if I know. I have certainly eaten my fair share, though on board ship we dispensed with quite so formal a setting about a week in when I realized how vastly different my own meals were to that of the crew. It did not seem a way to win favor among the men, to be quite so ostentatious, and I asked that things be simplified.”
“I should think that the men expect the officers to be set apart in order to maintain a certain respect for the position,” Alicia said, fussing at the setting, and removing a fork and knife until it looked more what she thought it should.
“But not to lord it over them. You cannot feed a man on hard tack and foul water and still expect to be served a fine game fowl with cream sauce,” he said, replacing one fork and removing another knife altogether.
“Ah, so you chose to eat your hard tack in cream sauce instead, with a good wine to pair it with,” she said replacing the knife, and stepping back with a nod of satisfaction.
“Hard tack is best with merlot, unless it has vermin, in which case a white is more appropriate.”
She gasped. “I did not expect you to speak about such things in jest, Your Grace.”
He glanced at her in surprise, his gaze softening somewhat. “I have not always been a Duke, Miss Price. Just as you have not always been a serving maid. There has been cause to eat many a piece of poor hard tack in my life. A certain ill-fated expedition comes to mind. I wonder what your experiences were before you came here?”
“You already know I have not served before—have we not already agreed upon this fact?” she asked crossly, sweeping away the silverware, and starting over, to create the proper setting for breakfast, taking a moment to polish each piece they’d been using, that there would be no smudges upon the silver. Her heart beat a panicked tattoo against her ribcage.How much does he know?His comments proved he held certain suspicions regarding her—did they not?
As though to verify her thoughts, one side of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “I would suggest that you pretend a great deal of ignorance. You have not had a luncheon in this house, yet you know the setting appropriate to it, though there has been no reason to instruct you in this. Nor would a man with the position your father holds within the village have cause to dine half so well at his luncheon. Yet your hands seem unused to the work.”
“My hands are quite used to work, thank you very much,” she said, setting the last piece of silverware in place and stepping back. “Shall I show you that I have the callouses to prove it, Your Grace?”
“But it was not always so, was it?” He stepped back as well, studying the table as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. “You have done well. The table looks most inviting. Perhaps I shall not have to let you go after all.”
“You have already said you would not,” she reminded him, scooping up the silverware she hadn’t used in an extra napkin.
“As I did,” he said softly, his green eyes, glittering in the candlelight.
She could get lost in that gaze. It was most disconcerting. Alicia took a shaky breath, forcing herself to remain calm, to not give anything away though his guesses were getting far too near to the mark. “Tell me, Your Grace, was there something you needed? I have been most remiss in not asking sooner, but I fear I was distracted.”
“Actually, no, not at all. I had thought I had left an item of mine here after dinner, but I do not see it. I must have set it elsewhere.”
It was a lie, and not even a good one. Alicia drew herself up for it was obvious he had come to check on her, and though she was actually here to spy upon the household, at the same time it felt rather insulting to be so mistrusted on the basis of two previous meetings.
“Then if you would give me leave to return to my duties, I would appreciate it. I am sure that Mistress Marigold has tasks for me within the kitchen, Your Grace.” She bobbed a curtsey, though it wasn’t well performed due to her juggling the extra silver, which she nearly dropped.
He leapt forward to assist, for the second time this night his fingers brushing hers as he rescued the napkin and tucked it more securely in her hands. “I would hate to be the cause of you having to do more work,” he murmured, as he nodded to the items in her hand. “Had they fallen you might have had to wash them again.”
The Duke was standing altogether too close. She felt the warmth of his fingers upon her hands long after he’d let go. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she murmured, and without waiting for his reply, turned and fled.
