Page 6 of The Duke's List
He knew from her long years with the Wyndhams that she didn’t gossip, not even among other Bocollyn House servants. But the blasted footmen and downstairs maids, that was another matter entirely. And then there was his valet, Perkins. He knew he could trust the man with his life, and he literally had during the years he worked on missions to France for the Home Office.
He realized the details, execution and planning of an intimate supper with his duchess that night would inevitably end up as fodder for discussion in the servants’ hall no matter what he did.
He sighed. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Smythe. Of course, I can trust your discretion. I knew that. Forget I even brought up the question.”
She gave him a rare (for her) sunny smile. “I’ll remind everyone of how important discretion is on all of our parts, no matter what task we perform for you and Her Grace.”
Sidmouth relaxed. He was acting like an adolescent fool. Everyone had known for several months now that he and Jane were not living under the same roof. What did he think he could accomplish by trying to hide a simple late supper with his wife?
“What sort of menu do you recommend?”
“Oysters are in fine season at the market in Falmouth. I’ll send one of the footmen. And then we have a very fine roast of beef in the cellar, and of course, white soup…”
“What about dessert?”
The look she gave him at that question came perilously close to pitying, but she seemed to remember herself just in time.
“I just brought back one of my mother’s cream cakes. Would that suit?”
“Yes. We haven’t had of your mother’s treats in a while, and maybe some berries from the orangery?”
At that request, her mouth formed a small “O.”
“Would that be a problem?”
“No, but I believe I have a suggestion for a setting for your special supper. We can set up a table with a candelabra in the orangery tonight. What do you think?”
Sidmouth nodded numbly at her suggestion. He was grateful to be seated as his desk, which provided cover for the effect her idea had on a sensitive part of his anatomy. “You will have the braziers lit? I wouldn’t want Her Grace to be chilled.”
“Of course.” She gave him knowing smile before turning to head down to the kitchen to relay his requests.
Mrs. Smythe smiledlike a silly schoolgirl all the way to see Cook. She remembered a special supper she herself had enjoyed many years before on a darkened night in an orchard, before the man she’d given her heart to sailed away to die at Trafalgar.
She of all people knew how much precious time spent with loved ones meant. She hated to see the duke and duchess waste any of theirs.
Jane,Duchess of Sidmouth, stared at the limited number of gowns hanging in the tiny wardrobe in the sole bed chamber in the stable master’s cottage. She’d exhausted her supply of elegant frocks over the nights she’d teased her husband into returning over and over to be trounced at cards after supper…and then sent back to his own lonely chamber in Bocollyn House.
Maybe it was time to have her trunks brought out of storage from the main house. If she was going to torture her husband into agreeing to her demands, she would need plenty of ammunition. There was the green sea-foam silk with sparkling, beaded embroidery over strategic areas of her body to provide minimal modesty through sheer fabric. Matching shimmering, clocked stockings would complete the ensemble with delicate green silk slippers. Maybe the time had come to raise the stakes enough to make her stubborn husband see sense.
She paused suddenly, indecision roiling in her gut. Would accepting his invitation be giving in too easily? After all, he’d yet to apologize for the cruel accusations he’d thrown at her that night in Venice. She was torn with indecision. Maybe she’d seek out Harriet’s counsel before giving herself whole-heartedly to Sidmouth’s plans for seduction. She feared his list of demands in exchange for shared intimacy might be more than she could bear. When something clicked in the back of her mind she pulled out the old, battered chair to the cottage writing desk. Jane sat and pulled out a fresh sheet of paper. She’d answer his demands with a list of her own.
Chapter Five
Harriet had putevery footman and downstairs maid to work clearing out the dust and detritus from the old grand ballroom on the second floor of Bocollyn House.
The great hall was so large, it took up a full half of the entire floor. She’d had the heavy velvet curtains at the full-length windows taken down for cleaning. Four footmen were assisting maids scrubbing grime from the windows at the end of the long hall as well as the round windows high above in the raised cupola on the roof. The many balls and parties the old house had seen were far in the past now. Sidmouth was a no-nonsense duke who abhorred the antics of over-zealous mamas convinced their daughters would make grand duchesses.
And speaking of duchesses, the blur of motion descending the grand entrance staircase to the hall looked at first glance like one of the maids. But the plain gray muslin work dress could not conceal Her Grace’s lush figure. Sidmouth’s duchess descended slowly as if unsure of herself. In the whirl of workers from the actors’ troupe as well as the estate, she kept close to the side of the staircase. A bright scarf tied back and partially hid her long, dark curls.
“Jane.” Harriet rushed up the stairs to guide her through the crowd to a safe place from which to view the ongoing chaos. “I’m so glad you decided to come supervise what we’re doing with the ballroom. I apologize for taking over the re-construction of the ballroom, but I…”
“You know Bocollyn House much better than I do. Of course you’d be the best person to oversee the creation of a family theater. But I couldn’t resist joining in all this fun. I love Cornwall, but regret having to leave the company of my mother’s eccentric circle of writers, actors and artists back in London.”
Harriet placed her hand on Jane’s arm. “I’m truly sorry you had to be caught in the middle of your father and Sidmouth’s chess game with human pieces.”
Jane’s peal of laughter caught Harriet by surprise. “You make it sound like I’m the heroine in the middle of a gothic novel.” She paused a moment, a faraway look in her eyes. “Like Sidmouth is some hairy beast keeping me locked away in one of the towers.”
Harriet flushed with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean…”