She curtsied again, and left his side. She ought not to converse with him while he ate, even though it still bothered her because she didn’t understand what gossip had so upset him with the children’s nursemaid.
Just as she reached the doorway, he choked. Swinging around, she gasped, wondering if she should go assist him. He lifted his glass of wine and practically gulped it. On instinct, she hurried back to his side.
“Your Grace? Is something amiss?”
His eyes watered as he took another drink before setting his glass down. “It’s the soup. There’s something…wrong.”
Worry climbed through her, tightening her chest.I helped make the soup.“What is it?”
“Something does not taste right.” He dipped his spoon in it then placed it in his mouth. Once more he choked and quickly lifted the drink. Flipping his hand, he motioned for her to take it away.
She did; her heart sinking as she carried it back to the kitchen. What had she done? She was almost certain this disaster was her doing as well.
The kitchen help still scrambled about trying to clean the floor. She stepped as carefully as she could and retrieved thenext plate then carried it back into the duke who watched her through hooded eyes.He knows this is my fault.“Here is your next course.”
“Thank you, Louisa.”
This time, she stepped slowly back toward the door as he cut into his venison dipped heavily in creamy sauce…which she made. She held her breath, watching him. After a couple of chews, she thought it safe to exhale, but then he gagged and spit out the food onto his plate.
“Good heavens, what is this? Did nobody taste this in the kitchen before serving me?”
Tears stinging her eyes, she hurried back to him. “Is there something wrong, Your Grace?”
He cut another piece of meat and sniffed it. “This tastes horrid.” He held up his fork to her. “Take a bite and see.”
Nodding, she slowly leaned in and opened her mouth. He slid the piece of meat in and she bit down. A strong taste coated her tongue, and she knew what she’d done wrong. It served her right for not remembering which herb to use when most of them looked alike. Tears slid down her cheeks as she forced herself to eat. It was the least she could do for ruining his meal.
“Really, Louisa. You don’t have to eat it.”
He held up his linen napkin, which she gratefully took and spit out the food. After wiping her mouth, she shook her head, her tears falling faster. “You don’t understand, Your Grace. I was the one who helped make this. Clearly, I didn’t know what I was doing.” She ended with a sob and covered her face with her hands. Wasn’t it bad enough she didn’t have a memory, and now…she made someone sick from her own cooking!
He stood. Warmth melded into her as two strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her next to his hard body. The feeling was foreign, yet she enjoyed it and wanted more. Turning her head, she snuggled against his chest, taking the comforthe offered. His scent of spice enveloped her and she breathed slowly, deeply, taking it all in. She could close her eyes and stay this way forever.
Forever ended abruptly when he stiffened then jerked away from her as if she were hot coals. She met his angry eyes and swallowed hard.What have I done now?
As she searched his expression, it looked as if he struggled with an inner demon himself. At first he appeared angry, but within seconds confusion creased his face just before he gave her a smile—one that looked entirely too forced.
“No need to fret, Louisa. Clearly your talent does not lie in the kitchen. I shall have Mrs. Smythe find another place for you on the morrow.”
Nodding, Louisa wiped the moisture under her eyes. “Your Grace, you are too forgiving.”
He chuckled and returned to his seat. “Now, if you will, please send Mrs. Beauchamp in here so I can have my chef fix me something else.”
“As you wish.” She curtsied and hurried into the kitchen. By this time the mess had been cleared. As she explained what happened, a few of the others snickered behind their hands, and Francois’s higher-than-thou attitude grated on her nerves. At least she wouldn’t have to work with them after this.
Sadly, Louisa walked toward her new bedroom. Earlier, Mrs. Smythe had shown her the servants’ quarters, which was where Louisa would be living. They were not as large or as decorated as the guest room, but she still considered herself most fortunate to be here in the first place.
From the end of the hall, giggling erupted. She stopped, not thinking she’d heard right, but then two voices whispered through the stillness from behind a closed door. Louisa crept closer to the sound, realizing it was children’s voices coming from within the linen closet. Cautiously, she pulled the dooropen. Two sets of eyes, almost identical, stared up at her. A little boy and girl—twins—cuddled together on the floor. The little boy lifted a finger to his lips as to shush her.
Louisa glanced up and down the hall then crouched to their level. “Whom are you hiding from?” she whispered.
“Mrs. Jacobs,” he answered.
“Are you Adam?” She looked at the girl. “And Amanda?”
They nodded their curly honey-blonde heads. Such beautiful children. “All right, I shall not tell.” She glanced up the hallway again then back to them before winking. “If you need me, I shall be right over there.” She pointed to her door.
Adam nodded and shut the door even before Louisa could move. Walking back to her room, she chuckled. As she opened the door, the sound of booming footfalls jerked her around. Mrs. Jacobs wore a stern expression as her tree-trunk-shaped legs carried her large body toward the linen closet. By the look on the older woman’s face, Louisa could tell the twins were going to get a scolding soon.
