Page 25 of A Lyon’s Promise (The Lyon’s Den)
“T ea, your ladyship,” Lizzy announced as she entered the sitting room with one of the footmen in her wake. “Shall I have Jarvis set the tray on the table by the window or the one between the settees?”
Thankful she no longer smelled of smoke, but of her favorite scent, Lucretia replied, “By the settees, if you would, please.” She could not help but notice the way the footman glanced over his shoulder at Greeves as he entered the sitting room, nor the way his eyes bulged when he spotted Thompson standing by the window.
Once the footman placed the tray as directed, she thanked him, expecting him to retreat. Instead, the young man approached her.
“Cook and Mrs. Riddleton said to tell you they cannot take time away from their duties at the moment.”
“I beg your pardon, Jarvis?”
For a moment he faltered, as if remembering he’d forgotten to show deference to her. “I…uh… That is, I meant—”
“To embarrass Lady Montfort,” Thompson interrupted. “Do you always use that tone of voice when addressing her ladyship?”
The younger man’s face paled. Thompson turned his back on the servant and asked, “Lady Montfort, shall I show your footman out?”
That Gavin’s man should feel the need to do so on her behalf was humbling. He treated her as she knew Gavin would: as if she mattered . Mattered a great deal. “Thank you, but I believe Jarvis can find his way back to his station.”
The footman practically tripped over his own feet in his haste to leave.
When he stepped through the doorway, she heard a muffled voice and knew Greeves was probably adding his warning to the footman.
“Thank you for speaking up on my behalf, Mr. Thompson, but the fault is mine that the servants do not respect my wishes and do not always use a deferential tone when speaking to me.”
“How is that your fault?” Thompson asked. “I should think it would be the fault of your late husband. He should have taken the time to ensure his staff knew that your wishes were as important as his, and that you should be treated in the same manner they treated him.”
She frowned. “You did not know Montfort.” Lucretia, on the other hand, had. Montfort had treated her as if she were unimportant. He’d ruled his home, and she had had little to no say in the matter.
Thompson shook his head. “Forgive me for overstepping my bounds. Greeves, Jackson, and Franklin would do the same if they witnessed what I just did. We have been with King the longest and know what he expects of his men.”
“Thank you. I suppose I will have to grow accustomed to Gavin’s speaking up on my behalf. What exactly to you mean by what he expects of his men, if you do not mind my asking?”
“Loyalty, trust, and discretion,” Thompson replied. “Essential in performing our duties.”
Lucretia smiled, and noticed something Thompson had not—her maid Lizzy hung on his every word. “Mr. Thompson, I wonder if you would mind doing a favor for me?”
“It would be my pleasure. Shall I speak to your errant servants on your behalf?”
“Actually, I was planning to ask Lizzy to tell Cook and Mrs. Riddleton that I wish to speak to them immediately.”
Lizzy’s face had an ashen cast to it. Poor woman. “Me? After they’ve already been asked once?”
“I would like Mr. Thompson to accompany you. You will be safe with him.”
“Your ladyship, I cannot in good conscience let you go on believing that either woman ever plans to accede to your wishes,” Lizzy said. “They have remained faithful to his lordship. Neither one has a desire to please you, or is concerned that they constantly ignore your dictates.”
“Sounds like an insurrection to me,” Thompson murmured.
“They are lucky King is not here at present,” Greeves added.
Lucretia sighed. “Thank you for your candor and advisement, Lizzy—not that I had not already deduced the same myself. What I do wonder is why they have held on to Montfort as if he were still paying them.”
Thompson and Greeves turned to one another at the exact same moment, leaving Lucretia to wonder if they’d had a similar thought. “Care to divulge what has the two of you silently communicating with one another?”
Greeves shrugged and nodded to Thompson, who answered, “Lady Montfort, it was the way you inadvertently suggested that Montfort was still paying them… What if he was?”
“Impossible! From the grave?”
“Aye,” Greeves said.
“We shall have to mention this to King when he arrives,” Thompson said. “It may very well be that both women are being paid indirectly according to your late husband’s will.”
“Or the codicil,” Greeves added.
“Lizzy, have you heard any such rumblings?” Lucretia asked.
“No, your ladyship. Though they do have the same afternoon off every week, and wherever they spend their free time, they leave at the same time and return—”
“At the same time,” Lucretia finished. Turning to Gavin’s men, she asked, “Do either of you believe in coincidences?”
Again they shared a telling look before simultaneously answering, “No.”
She drew in a lungful of air and slowly exhaled. “Neither do I. Mr. Thompson, would you kindly escort Lizzy to the kitchen, where I am quite certain Cook and Mrs. Riddleton will be found. If not there, check Mrs. Riddleton’s private sitting room on the far side of the servants’ dining room.”
“Yes, your ladyship.” Lizzy turned and tilted her head back to look up at Thompson. “I am grateful that you’ll be coming with me. Neither Cook nor Mrs. Riddleton are inclined to answer me when I speak to them.”
“That must make for a difficult working relationship,” Thompson replied.
Lizzy sighed audibly. “We’d best be on our way, Mr. Thompson.”
“Lead on, Miss Lizzy.”
“Just Lizzy. I’m no one special.”
Thompson slowly smiled. “I disagree, Lizzy.”
Lucretia delighted in the way her maid flushed and ducked her head. Even the tips of her ears took on a rosy glow. Mayhap she could do a little matchmaking of her own between those two.
Watching the pair leave, she wondered when Gavin would be arriving. Patience, she reminded herself. Nothing untoward would happen between now and when he would arrive on her doorstep, reminding her that she should have taken his suggestion and closed her eyes for at least a brief nap.
Her wonder turned to worry, given the dastardly thought that Mr. Bancroft would rather set Montfort’s legal documents on fire than turn them over to her, and that was when she remembered the keys. What was keeping Weston?
“As housekeeper, it is my prerogative to keep the household keys in my possession at all times and hand them over—or not—when asked to do so,” Mrs. Riddleton said.
“Her ladyship has asked for the keys to his lordship’s dressing room and his desk. Kindly give them to me before Mr. King arrives and makes the demand of you.”
“I will not be threatened!”
“Very well. I shall inform her ladyship.” Weston could not wait to hear what King had to say about the troublesome pair.