Page 18 of Desire and Discipline

That Miss Stuart obviously cared was only another point in her favor, though hearing it was an assassination attempt on the Marquess was a point against.

“Our last butler was killed during the attempt on my uncle.” Miss Stuart’s lips firmed as she leveled her gaze at Diana.

“If you choose to take this position, I will be able to tell you more, but before I go on, I need you to understand the gravity of the situation. We have taken measures to ensure the entire household’s safety, but nothing in life is ever certain. Do you still wish to continue?”

Goodness. This was the most unusual position she’d ever been put in.

Logic dictated that she should remove herself from the situation immediately.

Assassination attempts? Secrecy to the Crown?

Yet, her heart was racing. This was different.

It was exciting. She would know secrets that others did not.

Difficult patients were something she was used to; this sounded like another thing altogether.

“It is a lot to take in,” Miss Stuart said. “If you need more time to think about it?—”

“Yes, I wish to continue,” Diana interrupted. She wanted to know more.

“Very well then.” Miss Stuart put down her teacup and picked up the Bible that was sitting on the edge of the table.

Diana had not given it a second glance when she’d sat down.

Her eyebrows raised up in surprise as Miss Stuart held it out in front of her.

“What I am going to tell you next, you can never reveal. You are going to swear it on the Bible, though I will tell you that the far more immediate threat is being branded a traitor to the Crown if you suddenly develop loose lips.”

Diana stared at the Bible. She had already made her decision and knew that in her heart of hearts. Whatever this incredible secret was, she had to know.

By the time Miss Stuart had finished her accounting of her uncle’s injury, the tea was cold, Diana’s head was spinning, and they were no longer Miss Rutherford and Miss Stuart to each other—they were Diana and Evie.

The Marquess of Camden was the spymaster to the Crown.

His was only the latest assassination attempt by someone who knew his identity.

There had also been an attempt on the Duke of York’s life.

“Are you ready to meet your patient?” Evie asked, getting to her feet.

Was she ready to meet her patient? Diana was not sure she was ready for anything at this point.

She nodded her head, though. It was her job, after all.

The thought of her job steadied her. Everything that was new and exciting, and perhaps a little frightening, was only a possibility.

Tending to a patient was something she knew how to do.

As Evie led her down the hallway, a door at the end of it opened and a rather harried-looking maid emerged, holding a tray. She appeared to have tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Do not worry,” Evie murmured. “Beth cries over everything. It’s why I assigned her to give my uncle his meals. He hates it when he makes a woman cry, so he’s nicer to her than the rest of us, but he must be in a mood today.”

Well, crying was not in Diana’s repertoire, but she took note of Evie’s machinations and the information for the future.

“Miss.” Beth sniffled as they approached, casting a curious glance at Diana and bobbing a curtsy, though she kept a steady hand on the tray despite her tears. “I’m sorry, but he’s out of sorts today. He would not eat anything but his pudding, no matter how I begged.”

Indeed, the tray was full of bland but nutritious food, the sort one might feed a man recovering from a severe injury, and there were only a few crumbs left of what looked to have been dessert.

“That’s alright, Beth,” Evie said soothingly, her entire demeanor changing as she comforted the watery maid, taking the tray from her. “Thank you for your assistance. This is Miss Rutherford. She’s going to be handling my uncle from now on.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, miss,” Beth said, her expression lighting up with relief as she beamed at Diana, wringing her hands in her apron before reaching up to dash the tears from her eyes. “The whole household will be in your debt.”

Before Diana could respond, Beth scurried past them, clearly eager to get away from the room—and possibly to spread the news to the rest of the household that they no longer had to deal with the irascible Marquess. Other than her tears, however, she did not seem any worse for the wear.

Diana was not entirely sure what she expected when she met the Marquess.

She knew his age and now his temper, and Evie had spoken of him in a frustrated but resigned fashion, describing his inability to accept his age and injuries.

Diana found herself picturing an irascible old man.

One far too used to getting his own way.

However, he was also the spymaster to the Crown, so clearly, his mind was sharp.

She imagined he was wiry, small even, like a spider sitting in the center of his web.

She could not have been more incorrect.

The moment Evie opened the door and led Diana into the Marquess’ bedroom, Diana was overwhelmed by the sense of presence emanating from the figure in the bed.

Despite the dimness of the room, with its drawn curtains that required candlelight to see, no one walking in the door would miss seeing him where he was propped up against the pillows.

No wonder the maids and the housekeeper were having trouble managing him.

He had even more confidence and self-assuredness than Evie, which was saying something.

This was no elderly, wiry spider at the center of a web.

His broad shoulders and dark glare made him look more like a Roman centurion, ready to spring forth and do battle… if only he was not so severely injured. He took her breath away in a manner she was unused to, a reaction she was going to need to firmly squash if he was going to be under her care.

“I am not eating that slop,” he admonished Evie by way of greeting, ignoring Diana’s presence altogether, though she did not make the mistake of thinking he had not seen her.

This man saw everything . She got the distinct feeling she had been categorized as not a threat, at least for now, so he had prioritized haranguing his niece over a formal introduction.

Diana did not mind, as it gave her a moment to catch her bearings.

“I need something substantial. Something with flavor. Get that tray out of here, and do not bring it back.”

“Like a cake, perhaps?” Evie asked dryly, walking forward with the tray, clearly undeterred by his stern tone.

Diana had to commend her bravery—she also was taking mental notes on what she would have to put up with.

Though from the way Evie had spoken, the Marquess was likely to be less rude to someone who was not an immediate family member, Beth’s tears notwithstanding.

“You know you are supposed to eat the dessert last, do you not?”

“Life is uncertain. What if I choked on that slop and missed dessert?” He shook his head decisively.

Another personage might have sounded petulant with such utterances, but when he said it, he was utterly reasonable and totally assured in his rightness.

It was rather impressive, though Diana was determined not to be impressed. “I will not risk it.”

The large four-poster bed he lay in was richly adorned with dark green velvet curtains drawn back and tied with gold cord. The sturdy, ornately carved bedframe was even more imposing than the rest of the furniture in the room, though all of it matched.

There were several chairs on either side of his bed, obviously places for visitors—or a maid assigned to feed him—to sit. The chairs had obviously been brought in from other rooms, as they were the only unmatching furniture.

“You are going to eat your supper.” Evie turned slightly to indicate Diana, which allowed her to see Evie’s brilliant smile. “Miss Rutherford is here to take care of that.”

The Marquess narrowed his eyes at Evie.

“She’s fired.”

“She is not.”

“She cannot stay here. It is not safe.”

“I have fully informed her of the situation and the possible dangers, and she has agreed to stay, anyway.”

The Marquess puffed up before their eyes, righteous anger filling him. He was utterly menacing, despite being injured and bedridden, and Diana had no doubt this was the version of himself that had thrown the doctors and footmen out on their ears. There was even a part of her that quailed.

But he was her patient.

“What do you mean, she has been fully informed? I did not authorize that!”

“Excuse me, Evie,” Diana said serenely, coming forward to take the tray from her.

“I believe this is what you hired me for.” She had the satisfaction of watching the Marquess’ jaw drop open in shock that she was not running from the room.

Instead, she sat down beside him, trying to ignore the way her heart fluttered at his nearness.

Lingering fear, probably. He really had been quite intimidating before she’d caused him to gape like a fish.

Though even with his mouth dropped open, he was far too attractive.

Not that she was noticing. At least, she was endeavoring not to note his broad shoulders and chest, the way his salt and pepper hair swept over his brow, and the strong lines of his face. None of that was important.

“Thank you, Evie,” she said, flashing her new employer a smile. Evie beamed back at her, clearly pleased by the turn of events. Diana gave her a nod before turning back to the Marquess. “Now, my lord, are you going to feed yourself, or do you need me to do it for you?”