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Chapter Three
Mrs. Gendry jumped forward, clutching Letty’s arm in hers and dragging her away, apologizing all the while.
“Your Grace, our baker is not very well versed in matters of deportment. You will forgive her, please.” She pushed the girl into the pantry before grabbing a tray on which stood his tea things, including a neatly sliced piece of the gateau Letty had mentioned earlier.
“Why don’t I take your tea for you to your study? You can eat there in peace.”
Bertram found a great reluctance in himself to leave the warm hospitality of the kitchen. Yes, he was used to dining mostly alone unless he had guests but perhaps George had the right of it. Sitting here eating surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the kitchen and the tantalizing smells emanating from the pots and pans was rather attractive.
It’smyhouse. I can eat wherever I wish.
“No, no. Here is fine,” he said, not moving from his chair. He could see the housekeeper pale even with her hardy sun-kissed skin. Out of the corner of his eye, Bertram saw Letty emerge from the pantry, still grinning. Mrs. Gendry shot her a warning glance before bringing the tray to him.
“Very well, Your Grace. Enjoy your tea.”
George grinned at him delightedly and Bertram knew he’d made the right decision.
“Er, Your Grace, if you like, I can go to air out your study while you have your tea?” the little minx said, ratcheting up the suspicion in Bertram’s mind again. “It must be quite dank and dusty after being locked up for so long.”
Bertram turned to her, blue eyes narrowing. “What is it to you?”
She stepped back, almost stumbling. “N-nothing. I just thought I would offer to do it.”
“I wasn’t aware it was the duty of the baker to clean my offices.”
She took a deep breath, lashes momentarily sweeping downward to hide her eyes before she fixed him with the full force of her wintry stare. “You’re right, Your Grace. I do not knowwhatI could have been thinking.”
Bertram breathed out huffily, turning away from her to focus on his tea. George paid them no mind, too busy stuffing himself with cake.
“George! Slow down or you will cast up your accounts!” Letty exclaimed.
“That is ‘My Lord’ to you. Mrs. Gendry is truly right, eh? You have no comportment at all,” Bertram snapped. He expected that she would blush and be embarrassed. Perhaps apologize. But all she did was purse her lips and glare.
“Georgeand I are fast friends. He does not mind if I call him by his first name.”
“Nevertheless, it is not done. You are a servant; he is a nobleman.” Bertram knew how pompous he sounded but he could not seem to help himself. There was just something about her that rubbed him the wrong way, made him bristle and burn with annoyance. Everything from her luxuriant chestnut hair to her glowing skin had him wanting to take her down a peg or two—make her submit to him.
It was strange because he was not one to feel that a woman should be subservient to a man in any way. Nor had he ever sought to tame a woman. He did not understand why Letty had him so twisted.
She was stomping around the table, wiping it vigorously, her face red but with annoyance rather than embarrassment. She put so much energy into her cleaning that her entire body shook with it, her breasts jiggling enticingly, almost falling out of her bodice. Bertram took a deep breath, trying to look away but found that he was unable.
Abruptly he got to his feet. “I have changed my mind. I shall have my tea in my study, if you please.” With that he strode out, trusting that someone would bring his tea to him. He felt a little silly, a little exposed by that display.
Resolving to act in a manner befitting his station the next time he came upon the baker, he did his best to put her out of his mind.
* * *
The Duke had arrived so abruptly that Letty had not had time to make a plan. One minute she was chasing after George in the corridors, trying to get back the keys he’d stolen from her. The next minute, he’d stopped abruptly, peered out of a window and then ran outside, screaming for his father.
Letty had frozen for a moment, not knowing how to act. Then she remembered that she was a servant and this was a perfect opportunity to get hold of the Duke’s communications. Hurrying out, she searched for a likely bag and reached for it. It was a shock when he stopped her from taking it. She did not have much first-hand knowledge of noblemen but she was quite sure they did not like to carry their own bags.
That was the moment she knew she was in over her head. The Duke’s perfect cornflower blue eyes, too full of intelligence, saw her too clearly. The servant guise did not hide her from his suspicious gaze. Yet, instead of falling back and coming up with a new plan, she continually found herself confronting him. She could not seem to help herself. It was as if she needed him to notice that she was there.
That is not my mission and if I continue in this way I shall cock it all up.
Her self-chastisement did nothing but to make her more annoyed with both the Duke and herself.
He’s just so unexpected.
