Page 23 of The Duke’s Hidden Duchess

Nathaniel stopped in the passage.

He could have entered at once. Part of him wished to do so: the same part which had misfired in the carriage and still wanted a wall against which to spend itself. He waited until the anger had cooled into a shape he could direct.

Then he opened the door.

Three young women stood around the long worktable. Two immediately bent over their tasks. The third, who had been speaking, remained motionless with a copper pan in her hands. It slipped from her grasp and struck the floorboards with a flat clatter. Her face emptied, and she caught hold of the table’s edge.

“You are Prewitt.”

“Y-yes, Your Grace.” The girl’s chin began to tremble, but she mastered it. She could not have been more than eighteen. Flour covered her left sleeve to the elbow.

“You came here at Michaelmas from the Sedgleys, with a good character.” Nathaniel did not raise his voice. He had never needed to. “You were speaking of your mistress, in her own house, and repeating words intended to wound her.”

“Your Grace, I meant no harm. I only…”

“You intended to be interesting for the length of a story.”

Her mouth remained open. Her breathing had grown shallow and audible, and colour rose in uneven patches along her throat. The hand gripping the table had gone white across the knuckles.

“Her father’s crime does not belong to her,” Nathaniel said. “You cannot remain in this household after speaking of its mistress in such a fashion. You will go to Wexford Park and report to Mrs Dean, the housekeeper there. She requires another maid in the stillroom and maintains considerably stricter discipline than you have found here.”

The girl stared at him.

“Your wages here will be paid to the end of the quarter. Your character will state that you are willing, inexperienced and in need of steadier supervision. That is more consideration than the story you repeated would have allowed my wife.”

He turned towards the door.

“Pack your belongings today. Bassett will arrange your journey.”

The girl’s knees weakened. She caught herself against the table with both hands, and one of the other maids came round to support her by the elbow. Neither spoke. The copper pan remained where it had fallen.

At the far end of the kitchen, the mechanism of the roasting jack continued its steady turning. It was the only sound Nathaniel heard before he stepped back into the passage.

***

He continued to his study as he had intended. There he wrote brief instructions to the steward at Wexford Park concerning the maid’s transfer and remained at his desk until the anger had left his handwriting.

Only then did he ask Bassett where the duchess might be found.

Selina was still in the small parlour, examining a list the footman had brought her.

“I have made a decision concerning one of the servants,” Nathaniel said. “The matter required an immediate answer, though I recognise that I placed the household under your authority less than an hour ago.”

Selina set down the list. “What happened?”

“A kitchen maid named Prewitt was repeating the story she had heard from one of Mrs Ottley’s servants. She spoke of your father and questioned why the household should be expected to acknowledge you as duchess.”

Selina became very still.

“I have sent her to Wexford Park,” he continued. “She will serve under Mrs Dean, who is unlikely to tolerate either idleness or gossip. Her wages will be paid to the end of the quarter, and her character will not prevent her from finding another position.”

“You did not dismiss her without one.”

“She is eighteen and foolish. I saw no reason to make her destitute for it.”

Selina looked down at the list before her. “Many men would have done precisely that and called it defending my honour. I should then have been expected to feel grateful for a girl ruined in my name.”

“I did not do it for your gratitude,” Nathaniel said. “The girl required correction, not destruction.”