And perhaps most irritatingly of all, her courses were due. Which meant she was likely to get them on her way to London. Vanessa already felt awkward around her husband ever since their night in the inn where they had shared a bed. The last thing she wanted was for him to witness her courses coming upon her suddenly when she was not prepared.
But return to London they must. There was something urgent Winston needed to do there.
I wonder if this has something to do with the Vigilantes of Virtue,she pondered, as she paced back and forth around her bedroom, where all her clothes were already packed into trucks.But no, that is just a fanciful notion that my mind has thought up. There is no way…
Of course, she had no proof, but Winstonhadbeen hiding in a church the same night that Lord Tallow was attacked. He had said he was there just to speak to the Almighty, but she had never felt that to be true. It was much more likely he was there to hide from any constables who were after him …
Not to mention that he had a vendetta against men who abused their wives. Now that she knew what had happened with his sister—and that it had spurred him to save her—it was not hard for her to make the leap to him carrying out vigilante justice against men like Lord Egerton.
“You are being paranoid and ridiculous!” she said out loud to herself. Her courses were making her mad, surely.
Vanessa was hungry, but it was too late to ring for a servant to bring her a tray, so she decided to go down to the kitchens and see if there was any food that had not yet been packed away for London.
The house was quiet as she crept through it, but when she arrived downstairs in the servants’ quarters, she was shocked to hear noise coming from the kitchen. Tiptoeing closer, she pushed open the door, only to be greeted by the strangest sight she had ever seen.
It was the Duke of Thornfield, jacket thrown onto the back of a chair, his shirtsleeves rolled up, slicing potatoes.
Alerted by her movement, Winston locked eyes with her, and Vanessa froze.
“Please forgive me,” she said quickly, backing away. “I did not mean to interrupt you. I was just?—”
“Do not go,” Winston urged, his voice low but firm. “You are not interrupting me. Please, come in.”
He motioned toward her, and Vanessa tentatively stepped into the room. A wonderful smell was coming from a pot over the fire. It smelled of lamb and herbs and butter, and her eyes fluttered closed as she breathed in.
“That smells wonderful,” she observed, opening her eyes again. “Are you cooking that?”
“Yes,” Winston said, a small corner of his mouth quirking up. “It is something that my mother used to make for me as a boy. Please, sit down. I will make you some as well.”
“Oh… You do not have to do that,” Vanessa said, flushing. “It is not your job.”
“I know it is not my job,” he replied, “but it is a pleasure to cook for someone. And especially for you.”
She did not know what to say to this. It was so gallant and kind. So she sat down, folding her hands in her lap and staring up at him in wonder.
“I did not know dukes knew how to cook,” she said after a moment.
“I suspect most do not, but my mother taught me this recipe, and over the years, I have asked my cook to teach me a few more. It is a useful skill to know, I imagine. In case…”
“In case of what?” she asked, laughing. “You lose your dukedom?”
“You never know,” he replied with a shrug, and she wondered if he was alluding to whatever urgent business he had withKingsley.If heisa vigilante, he very well could have his lands taken from him—were he caught!
The thought made her shiver, and she pushed it away.
“What was your mother like?” she asked after a moment. “I assume she was not like your father?”
“No, she was very different from my father,” Winston said. His face was grave for a moment then he attempted a small smile. “She was very gentle. Too gentle, really. She did not have the strength or fortitude to stand up to my father. Or maybe she once did, but it was long gone by the time I was a boy. However, she tried to protect us in her own way. Her mind was weak by that point, and she was prone to melancholy. There were some days when she could not get out of bed…”
He looked back at the potatoes and began to slice them again.
“I am very sorry,” Vanessa murmured. “That must have been terribly hard for you as a boy. You must have blamed yourself.”
Winston’s eyes flickered up to hers in surprise. “I did blame myself,” he said. “How did you know that?”
Vanessa sighed. “You try so hard to protect people now,” she explained. “I know that you must carry the fear that you did not protect those you loved in your past.”
Winston stared at her for a long moment, then, very slowly, he nodded. “Both my mother and my sister,” he whispered. “I do think she tried to shield us from the worst of my father’s cruelty. But when I was still young, she was carried off by a fever. She had never been strong physically, and it consumed her in a matter of days. Then it was just Clementine and me.”
