The man turned abruptly as if to walk away and pretend he didn’t see her.
That was not about to happen.
The time had come to end this nonsense.
“Don’t you dare move,” she said in her most imperial voice. “Hodgeson, isn’t it?”
At that moment a giggling maid came around the corner, the man’s neck cloth in her hand. “You forgot this, lovey—” she started and then closed her mouth and shut up at the sight of her mistress.
Lucy eyed the girl. Her uniform was ill fitting, which didn’t make sense. All of the Smythson uniforms were tailored to the wearer. “I know all the servants in my employ. I do not know you.What is your name, girl?” She used her tone that could chill water.
The maid had the good sense to curtsey. It was awkward and poorly done, but she did it. Hodgeson stood frozen as if he feared for his immortal soul.
“Cora Belks, Your Grace.” Another inept curtsey. Really. Her most trusted servant, Randall, who had been the Smythson butler from before she’d first arrived as a bride, had recently retired out of service. Lucy had not been terribly satisfied with his replacement, Andrews. The man had come highly recommended except Lucy had noticed he was lazy. Did he believe that just because she was widowed and her son too young for common sense that she would turn a blind eye to foolishness on her staff?
She looked to Hodgeson. “Where is Mr. Andrews?”
“He is at the main house, Your Grace.”
“Fetch him.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“And where is my son?” she asked before the footman could make his bowing escape.
“His Grace is in his chambers, Your Grace.”
She noticed Cora trying to stealthily back out of the room. “Stop right there, missy. And stay there untilIreturn.” The girl dutifully froze.
Lucy started up the stairs. She spied another servant lingering in the back of the hall. Word was spreading that she was in the house. Good.
She didn’t bother to knock on her son’s door. Lucy wanted the element of surprise. She received it. The heavy drapes were all pulled shut. However, in the shadowy darkness of the bedroom she couldn’t mistake his naked buttocks as he was spread out on the bed with an equally nude young woman under his arm. A host of empty bottles surrounded the bed.
For a long moment, punctuated only by her son’s light snores, Lucy glared at the scene. She expected the couple to come awake from her presence alone, and then realized her son was too far gone.
Fighting... carousing... whoring? When had he come to this? Christopher had always been sensible.
And spoiled.
Her brother Brandon had warned her. Growing up, if Christopher didn’t have his way, there were often tantrums and later just pouting. But he was one and twenty. The time had come for him to be a man, and not one with loose morals.
“Christopher.”
He didn’t budge.
“Christopher.”
The girl came awake and gave a squeal of surprise. Lucy expected her to jump up and run from the room. Instead, the bold puss frowned. “Who are you to bother us?”
Was she truly that stupid?
“Who are you?” Lucy asked succinctly in a tone only a duchess could use.
Now the girl looked nervous. She glanced at the still-sleeping duke. “I work here.”
“Not anymore,” Lucy replied.
“The duke hired my sister and me.”
