‘You took your time,’ he muttered.
Penny forced her tone to remain neutral. ‘It is a large room, sir. But I dare anyone to find a speck of dirt on those floors.’
Coggins grunted. He stood up and walked closer to Penny, so close she had to tilt her chin up to maintain eye contact. She could smell the starch of his shirt and the oil of his pomade. ‘I’m watching you, girl. The marquess may have a blind spot when it comes to you, but I don’t. Remember that.’ He leaned closer and Penny fought the urge to flinch away. ‘I advised Mrs Harding not to hire you. I don’t trust new servants.’ He huffed out a laugh tinged with raw onions. ‘I don’t trust any servants, save myself.’
‘Then I suppose I’m in good company, sir.’
Bother. I shouldn’t have said that.
‘Don’t get lippy with me, girl. You’ll find a hole in your wages this month if you aren’t careful.’
Fining a servant’s pay was common practice to discipline surly maids. A far better punishment than beating them, which was another tactic often used. Penny pressed her lips together. She couldn’t afford to lose any income. Not with so much riding on her meagre savings. At least until she earned the reward money from the prime minister.
What if the letter against Liam isn’t enough?
Perhaps she could discreetly enquire with the other servants about the missing girl. What did her father call her? A flower name.
Rose? Petunia? Daisy! That’s it. Daisy Williams.
‘Or perhaps a caning is what you need?’ The cold cruelty in Coggins’ voice brought her back to their conversation. She’d never seen the practice of corporal punishment used in Liam’s house and wasn’t sure if Coggins was bluffing.
I must stop thinking of Liam in such familiar terms. He is most likely guilty of terrible deeds and deserving of justice. He is the corrupt Lord Renquist. I am the uncompromising Miss Smith who will hold him accountable for his crimes. That is all.
Coggins’ grabbed her free wrist, pulling her hand up to his chest in an effective method of reclaiming her focus. ‘How long do you think it would take for me to draw blood from your palms?’ He yanked her closer. ‘I won’t be disrespected, Miss Smith.’
Sharp footsteps in the kitchen caused Coggins to stiffen. He dropped Penny’s hand as if she’d stung him and took a quick step back.
Mrs Harding paused in the doorway. ‘What is going on in here?’ Her gaze travelled from Coggins to Penny then back to the butler. Frowning at the man, Mrs Harding narrowed her eyes into twin points of disdain. To Penny’s shock, the man’s neck grew a motley crimson, creeping up his cheeks and staining the tips of his ears.
‘Just reminding Miss Smith of her duties. If that ballroom floor isn’t pristine, you’ll hear from me, Miss Smith.’ Coggins stretched his neck but avoided eye contact with Mrs Harding. ‘She is prone to insolence, Gertrude. I expect to see you use a firmer hand with this one in the future.’
Mrs Harding walked into the small room, making it feel even more crowded. She approached Coggins, invading the man’spersonal space, and Penny realised Mrs Harding was taller than the butler. Leaning down so close, their noses almost touched, she spoke in a quiet, controlled, terrifying tone. ‘And I would remind you Cornelius, I am in charge of the maids. I didn’t assign Miss Smith to clean the ballroom floor, nor did I give you permission to do so. If anyone is displaying insolence, it is you. If it happens again, Lord Renquist will hear of it.’
Coggins’ upper lip trembled and his left eye twitched.
Dear Lord. The man’s petrified of her.
Penny could understand his alarm. Mrs Harding was a frightening woman. Penny developed a new appreciation for her.
Mrs Harding straightened her spine and looked down her nose at Coggins. ‘Leave the bucket, Miss Smith. As Mr Coggins assigned your duties for the day, he can deal with it. You are needed elsewhere.’ She turned to Penny, raising her brows. Penny jerked back to life and carefully placed the bucket on the floor. Mrs Harding nodded, then flicked her head toward the kitchen door. Penny bobbed a quick curtsy and hobbled as swiftly as she could to the kitchen, Mrs Harding close on her heels.
‘You will not speak of this, Miss Smith.’ Mrs Harding glanced at Sally O’Brian, who was manhandling a golden-crusted pie from the oven. ‘The last thing I need is for the other servants to know I defended one of you against the butler. Coggins might not be your superior, but I certainly am. Do you understand?’
Penny nodded.
‘Good. Clean yourself up. Lord Renquist has requested his supper to be served in his room. Cook is putting a tray together and you’ll need to take it to him. We’ve only two days until the ball and I’ve far too much to do. I’ve no time to wait on the marquess because he’s suddenly decided not to use the dining room like any other civilized gentleman.’
Penny started to reply, but Mrs Harding wasn’t done. ‘And make sure Mrs O’Brian gives you some ice for that ankle. I can’t have one of my best maids limping around here, lame as an old mule, when there’s much to be done.’
Penny’s mouth fell open. Had Mrs Harding just complimented her?
While also calling me a lame mule.
It appeared she had. But before Penny could create an adequate response, Mrs Harding turned and swept out of the kitchen. Mrs O’Brian came to Penny’s side.
‘There now, love. I told Mrs Harding you hadn’t eaten your supper yet. One of the other girls could take him his evening meal. But you know how she is. Nearly snapped my head off, she did.’
Penny hastily unpinned her hair and swept it back into a simple chignon. It wouldn’t hold for long, but hopefully she would complete her task quickly. There was nothing to be done for her apron, but she brushed what dirt she could from it. ‘Never mind, Mrs O’Brian. I can eat after I bring him his meal.’
