“Ah, darling,” she said, stooping down to kiss her daughter as Sir Philip moved off to examine one of the paintings through his glass. “Making friends with Uncle Thomas, are you?”
“See, Mama?” Lady Pamela held up her coin. “I can skip. I will show you.”
“Some other time, darling,” her grace said, straightening up. “Miss Hamilton, will you please take my daughter upstairs to her nurse, then await me in my sitting room?”
“The dragon is incensed, I fear,” Sir Philip muttered without turning from the picture. “She is usually at her worst when she smiles and speaks so sweetly. My most abject apologies, my sweet. I will make it up to you some other time.”
Fleur walked half the length of the gallery, her chin up, though her eyes were lowered to the floor. She curtsied, took the skipping rope from Lady Pamela’s hands, took one of her hands in hers, and led her from the room.
“But, Mama,” the child wailed. “I want to show you.”
“Was it a forbidden romp, Sybil?” Lord Thomas’ laughing voice was saying before Fleur was beyond earshot. “How shocking.”
FLEUR STOOD QUIETLY INSIDEthe door of the duchess’s sitting room for all of half an hour. For some five minutes of that time she could hear coughing in the adjoining dressing room. Finally the door opened and her grace came in. She crossed to a small escritoire without even glancing Fleur’s way and picked up a letter lying there. Fleur stood for another full five minutes while she read it.
The duchess set down the letter and turned to look Fleur slowly up and down. “Slut!” she said sweetly.
Fleur looked at her calmly.
“By whose authority were you in the gallery?” her grace asked.
“By his grace’s,” Fleur said.
“I beg your pardon?” The voice was soft, the face delicate and surprised.
“By his grace’s, your grace.”
“And by whose authority was my daughter playing with the toys there?”
“By mine, your grace,” Fleur said.
“I see.” The duchess picked up a book from a stool and seated herself gracefully on the daybed.
Fleur stood quietly for several more minutes while her grace turned pages.
“Is it your habit,” the duchess said, looking up at last, her voice expressing pleasant curiosity, “to allow every man you meet to fondle you?”
“No, your grace.”
“Are you not satisfied with the salary you are paid?”
“Yes, thank you, your grace,” Fleur said. “I am very satisfied.”
“I thought perhaps it was the money,” the duchess said. “I can understand that for some servants it must be tempting to augment wages in such a manner. In your case it seems to be merely that you are a slut.”
Fleur said nothing.
“I wish you no ill,” her grace said. “You are what you are, Miss Hamilton. Perhaps you are unfortunate to have a mistress who has such tender sensibilities. But it distresses me beyond bearing to think of your being close to my daughter and influencing her. I will expect Mr. Houghton to inform me early tomorrow morning that he has been handed your resignation. I regret having to make such a request. You may go.”
“Sir Philip Shaw’s attentions were unasked-for and unwanted,” Fleur said. “I do not believe you have cause to suspect me with anyone else.”
The duchess laid aside her book carefully and looked slowly about the room, her eyebrows raised. “I do beg your pardon,” she said with a light laugh, “but is there anyone else in this room?”
“I spoke to you, your grace,” Fleur said.
“To me?” The duchess looked at her and smiled. “You havean unfortunate habit of not identifying the person to whom you speak, Miss Hamilton. I did inform you that you are dismissed, did I not?”
But the door from the dressing room opened before Fleur could turn, and Lord Thomas Kent stepped inside.
