A brief silence. “No. The servants were fully occupied with preparations for the storm, and I did not wish to trouble them further.”
Of course she had not. Of course Miss Collard—who never asked for anything, who endured discomfort without complaint—had declined even so small a kindness.
“I shall fetch one,” he said.
“My lord, that is quite unnecessary—”
“Miss Collard.” His voice emerged firmer than he had intended. “I am going to fetch you a hot water bottle. You are going to accept it. And if there is anything else you require—anything at all—you will tell me, so that I may see to it. Is that understood?”
A long pause. Then, very quietly: “You are remarkably imperious for someone offering to act as a lady’s maid.”
“I am a marquess,” Nathaniel replied. “Imperiousness is something of an occupational habit.”
He heard what might have been a laugh, quickly suppressed. “Very well, my lord. If you insist upon being useful, I shall not prevent you. Though I confess I have no idea where you propose to find such a thing at this hour.”
“The kitchen,” Nathaniel said, with confidence he did not entirely feel. “Kitchens contain… useful objects.”
“An admirably precise grasp of domestic arrangements.”
“I am going now. I shall return shortly.”
He did not wait for her reply, but turned and strode down the corridor, his purpose fixed.
A hot water bottle. He would find one, deliver it, and—he would do whatever else might be required.
How difficult could it possibly be?
***
The kitchen, as it turned out, was in a state of considerable chaos.
The storm had caused minor flooding in the scullery, and several servants were engaged in a flurry of activity involving buckets, mops, and a good deal of muttered imprecation. Mrs McConnor stood in the midst of it all, directing operations with the calm authority of a general in the field.
“My lord!” She looked up, startled by his appearance. “Is something amiss? The children—”
“The children are well. Rosie was frightened by the thunder, but she is sleeping now.” Nathaniel surveyed the scene with what he hoped resembled competence. “I require a hot water bottle.”
Mrs McConnor blinked. “A hot water bottle, my lord?”
“Yes. For Miss Collard. She is… indisposed, as you are aware, and the warmth would be of benefit.”
Understanding dawned in the housekeeper’s eyes, followed by something that might almost have been approval
“Of course, my lord.” She turned at once to issue brisk instructions to the nearest maid, then added, “They are kept in the cupboard near the hearth.”
Nathaniel moved with her, as though the decision had already been made. She opened the cupboard and gestured briefly to its contents.
“One is usually filled from the kettle,” she said. “The water must be hot, but not boiling, and the bottle wrapped well before it is carried upstairs.”
“Right. Not boiling. Wrapped in cloth.”
“And, my lord—” Mrs McConnor hesitated, then continued, lowering her voice slightly. “Miss Collard may also benefit from tea. Raspberry leaf, in particular. It is kept in the blue canister on the third shelf. It assists with…” She gestured vaguely.
“With the—yes. I understand.” Nathaniel felt his face warm, but pressed on. “I shall bring her tea as well.”
Mrs McConnor glanced at him, then back toward the still-chaotic scullery. “I can have one of the maids bring it up to her room as soon as we have matters here in hand—”
“No.” The refusal emerged before he had quite examined it. “I shall see to it.”
