“Sally will tell the truth, I am sure. If she is given a guarantee that her employment here will not be at risk. This is not her fault, Your Grace!”
“Then pray tell, whose fault is it? Mine?” Gideon hissed in a dangerous tone.
“Yes,” McKay finished stoutly, “and if you wish to sack me too, Sally and I will pack our things forthwith and leave this house at once. Is that what you desire, Your Grace?”
Gideon had never seen such insolence. Such rebellion. The butler faced him with firm eyes.
Such loyalty inspired by my wife? She has engendered such feelings in the staff in a little over a fortnight? What manner of witch is she to cast such a spell?
But he knew that it was not witchcraft. She had enchanted him along with everyone else. Not through nefarious magic but with compassion and empathy. And now he faced mutiny from his own household. Their loyalty was shifting to her, slippingthrough his fingers. He tried to imagine the house without McKay. Or how many other staff he might lose if McKay followed through on his threat.
But that information was secondary. Once, not too long ago,everysoul was replaceable. Now, however, he could not bear the thought of losing McKay or anyone else from his household.
I am changed. This woman has broken into my life and brought warmth and light.
A few weeks ago, the butler’s words would have been taken as insolence, and his response would have been anger and outrage. Now, he sought to find a peaceful solution. Sought understanding.
“Tell me,” Gideon said, softening his tone.
“Sally, tell His Grace what you told me,” McKay said, not looking away from Gideon.
“I told her about my cousin at Blackthorn Farm, Edith Bagshot,” Sally answered quietly, “and how she would be welcome to stay there if she had nowhere else to go.”
“As if a Duchess would stay on a farm!” Gideon raged.
Then a thought occurred to him. In less than a week, Catherine had so impressed Sally with her kindness that the maid had been ready to offer her sanctuary with her family.
Did I ever see any servant do more than their duty for my father? Or for me?
“But then again, she is an uncommon Duchess,” Gideon said, softening his tone, “thank you, Sally, for this valuable information. Where might I find Blackthorn Farm?”
The look of relieved gratitude on Sally’s face contrasted with the speculative frown on McKay’s visage. He wasn’t convinced by his master’s sudden change of mood. Sally gave a simple set of directions that Gideon thought he could follow.
“And Sally’s position, Your Grace?” McKay asked in a pitched tone, “As well as my own?”
“Both… secure,” Gideon sighed, rubbing his nape, “I apologize for my hasty words.”
McKay gave a sharp nod. “Right, Sally, you have duties to attend to. Get out from under the Duke’s feet.”
He ushered her from the room, leaving Gideon marveling at the effect a little kindness could have.
Have I been behaving like my father this entire time? Ruling out of fear when I could have earned my staff’s trust?
Saddling a horse, Gideon rode out of Caerleon in pursuit of his wife. It was not difficult to find Blackthorn Farm, but whenhe arrived, neither Edith Bagshot nor her husband had seen Catherine.
Or, at least claimed they had not.
Dark clouds were gathering over the farm, which nestled in a hillside, the dark smudge of London just visible on the horizon. Gideon rode out of the farmyard, feeling that he had been lied to but unable to do anything about it. These people were not on his land, were not his tenants. He had no authority to make them do or say anything.
Instead, he made a conspicuous show of riding toward London—but stopped once out of sight of the farm. He led his horse into a copse of elm and birch trees whose low-lying branches gave adequate cover to conceal him. Then he found a vantage point where he could observe the farm without being seen.
The day wore on, and the clouds bunched and glowered. Wind gusted from the east, sharp enough to make Gideon turn up his collar.
The Threnthorpes expect us at seven. Time is short. Damnation, Catherine, but if you are in there, show yourself!
Finally, as he was about to storm back to the farm and demand his wife be produced, he spotted a distant lone figure strolling out of the farmyard. She wore a cloak with the hood raised and carried a bundle on her shoulder. Gideon’s heart surged with hope.
He urged his horse back deeper into the copse, dismounting once he was hidden among the trees. She reached a stile built into the ancient stone wall and climbed over, dropping down on the woodland side.
