Page 45 of Duke of Gold
Mrs. Hallewell’s expression did not waver, though Peggy thought she detected a faint softening at the corners of her mouth. “Very well, Your Grace. I shall have Cook draw up a menu for your sampling and approval.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hallewell,” Peggy said, her relief evident in the slight loosening of her posture. “I appreciate your efforts.”
The housekeeper turned to leave, her steps precise, but she paused at the doorway and glanced back. “I trust Your Grace had a restful night after the milk?”
Peggy blinked, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected question. The woman’s tone, though still formal, held a trace of genuine concern that caught Peggy entirely off guard.
“Oh,” Peggy said, recovering quickly. “Yes, thank you. It was most helpful.”
Mrs. Hallewell nodded once, a faint gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. “Very good, Your Grace.”
As she turned and disappeared through the doorway, Peggy stood still for a moment, reflecting on the brief yet startling glimpse of humanity in the otherwise stoic housekeeper. It was a small thing, perhaps, but it left her feeling unexpectedly heartened.
“I am afraid we must manage without Lady Aleshire today,” Mrs. Pattons announced, her tone brisk as she addressed the gathered ladies.
Peggy glanced up from the parchment in front of her, her brow furrowing slightly. “Without her? Is she unwell?”
Mrs. Pattons leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “Not unwell herself, Your Grace, but she has traveled to visit her daughter in Hertfordshire. The poor babe has taken ill.”
Peggy’s chest tightened with concern. “Her daughter’s child?” she asked softly.
“Indeed,” Mrs. Pattons confirmed with a solemn nod. “The young Viscountess delivered some months ago, and this is her first—a son, the heir. Naturally, the family is beside themselves with worry.”
“Oh, how dreadful,” Peggy murmured, her fingers curling tightly around her pen. “I do hope the little one recovers swiftly.”
Mrs. Pattons patted Peggy’s hand lightly, the gesture more maternal than Peggy had expected. “As do we all, Your Grace.”
Before Peggy could respond, Mrs. Pattons added, almost offhandedly, “Lady Aleshire did, however, make one specific request before her departure. She has asked that you take charge of today’s meeting in her stead.”
Peggy blinked, her mouth parting in surprise. “Me?”
“Yes, indeed,” Mrs. Pattons replied, her voice filled with approval. “She spoke most highly of your sharp mind and keen sense of organization.”
“Oh my,” Peggy said faintly, a blush rising to her cheeks. Yet, despite her initial hesitation, she straightened in her chair, resolved to take the responsibility in stride. “I am, of course, glad to assist in any way I can.”
The meeting continued with animated discussions about the allocation of funds and the selection of projects, Peggy diligently guiding the proceedings as best she could. She was beginning to find her rhythm, her confidence growing with each passing moment, when Mrs. Pattons leaned toward her once more, her voice low but distinctly audible.
“This is an excellent distraction for you, Your Grace,” she remarked with a smile that bordered on conspiratorial. “Lord knows, with a husband like yours, a woman would need all the diversions she could find to maintain her sanity.”
The words struck Peggy like a sudden gust of icy wind. Her hand froze mid-note, her heart giving a startled thump against her ribs. Slowly, she turned to Mrs. Pattons, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“I beg your pardon?” Peggy managed, though her voice was softer than she intended.
Mrs. Pattons, entirely oblivious to the impropriety of her comment, waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, I mean no offense, Your Grace. It’s just that the Duke’s reputation precedes him, does it not? One hears whispers, of course, but it must be quite a trial.”
Peggy’s pulse quickened, her grip tightening on the pen until her knuckles whitened. Was this truly how they saw him? Her husband, a man burdened by his own sorrows and shadows, reduced to a figure of dread and speculation?
She forced herself to exhale, setting her pen down with deliberate care. “I find your words most surprising, Mrs. Pattons,” she said evenly, though her tone carried a distinct edge. “His Grace has ever conducted himself with honor and dignity in my presence.”
Mrs. Pattons flushed, her expression faltering for the briefest moment. “Oh, of course, Your Grace. I did not mean to suggest otherwise.”
Peggy offered a tight smile, her mind swirling with questions and unease. She returned her attention to the parchment, but her thoughts remained stubbornly fixed on Mrs. Pattons’s comment.
Was this the perception she would have to combat, both for her own sake and Morgan’s? And how much of it, she wondered uneasily, was rooted in truth?
Peggy’s eyes darted around the room, her gaze searching the other ladies’ faces as though they might silently offer her an answer—or a reprieve from the moment. Instead, she found only stunned silence, their expressions mirroring her own astonishment. Wide eyes, parted lips, the slight shifting in their seats. They were as taken aback as she was. No one, however, dared to speak.
Peggy straightened her spine, forcing composure into her voice, though her heart still beat a frantic rhythm against her ribs. “Let us continue,” she said, her tone firm but quiet.
