Page 8 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke

“Yes, milord. Everything is accounted for—including the hens and every single egg.”

Charles stopped and looked at Gibson, who looked every bit as serious about the eggs as he was the safety of his master.

“Very well then,” he muttered. “Let Ambrose know I will not be requiring his expertise for the foreseeable future, though he is allowed to remain at Wentworth meanwhile. You may return to your post now. I shall proceed to the breakfast hall on my own.”

“As you wish, milord.”

He could hardly contain his sigh of frustration as Gibson attempted to sketch a bow before he left. It looked like the poor man might topple over on his feet. Gibson was the rough and tumble brother of an old…colleagueof Charles, and so he had given him employment despite the man’s blatant lack of qualifications for his role. Asguilelessas he was, the man was a loyal fellow, which Charles could appreciate at the very least.

Shaking his head, he proceeded down to the breakfast hall, where he expected breakfast to have already been served according to his specifications.

However, it seemed as if everyone was intent on tormenting him in one way or another over the last couple of days.

He frowned as he sat down for breakfast, scowling at the eggs, ham, bread, and assortment of jams and marmalades spread out before him. The kitchens always prepared too much food for one person. They could not have possibly expected him to finish all of this, could they?

He glowered at the footman, O’Malley, who hovered patiently by his side.

“I thought I told you to tell the new cook that I despise jams and marmalades of all sorts,” he told the footman in a curt tone. “What,” he gestured at the spread before him, “is the meaning of all this?”

“Cook thought that it would, ah, brighten up breakfast for Your Lordship,” O’Malley replied.

Brighten up the breakfast? What sort of insane notion is that?Charles thought to himself.Breakfast is for eating. For nourishment. For consistency. Not a god-forsaken art explosion on the table.

“Should I, ah, take it all away then, milord?”

Charles regarded the stammering footman with a raised eyebrow as if to say, “What doyouthink?”

Shaking his head with a sheepish grin, O’Malley called for the other servants to help him dispose of the jams and marmalades on the table until all that was left was a basket of bread, the butter, the ham, and some eggs.

Upon seeing the significant difference, Charles felt something within him ease. As if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. However, there was something that still needed to be carried out before he could proceed with breakfast.

He cleared his throat and glared coldly at O’Malley.

“Oh, yes, milord!” the footman smiled widely. “Best part of my day, this one.”

Charles watched as the man happily helped himself to a serving of eggs and ham, then generously slathered some butter on his bread before sitting down and scarfing them all down before his master. When Charles looked pointedly at the teapot, O’Malleypoured himself a cup of it, added some cream, and drank it with a huge grin on his face.

“You look exceedingly happy for a man who may fall dead at any time,” Charles remarked with a neutral expression.

“Well, milord, I hardly get to sample such fine fare, so I always look forward to this!” O’Malley grinned around a mouthful of ham and eggs. He paused and washed everything down with some tea, before adding, “If I were to die, then I would die a happy and satisfied man, milord!”

“How wonderful of you to put a positive spin on what might have been a more macabre situation,” Charles replied wryly.

“As long as I can serve Your Lordship, my life will be well worth the price!” O’Malley declared dramatically, his eyes shining as he took a large chunk out of the buttered bread.

“How… reassuring,” Charles muttered, before he helped himself to some ham and eggs.

Watching the footman chomping everything down with great gusto before him began to allay his fears. He poured himself some tea, finally at comfort to proceed with breakfast as usual. But he had barely taken a sip from his cup when his stomach began churning in consternation once more.

Slamming the cup down hastily, he turned towards another footman hovering about the edge of the room.

“Williams!” he started. “Has everything been searched extensively?”

The footman stepped forward and nodded. “Nothing was found amiss, milord.”

“Are you sure?”

Williams nodded in reply.