“It’s not a full course, mind you, but when you are feeling better, we shall serve you more. His Grace wants us to make you healthy.” The older woman tsked. “I fear you are nothing but skin and bones.”
Louisa glanced down at her thin wrists and fingers. “I wish I could remember why.”
“You shall in time, dearie.”
“Mrs. Smythe, you have all been so kind. I don’t know how to repay you.”
“Oh, tosh. Not to worry, my dear. His Grace is very kind, and he will not ask to be repaid.”
Louisa glanced toward the door, hoping he’d come back and make her feel protected again. Strange how the loss of his presence left her empty inside. “Tell me about him,” she asked before shoveling some soup into her mouth.Ahh… chicken and dumplings.
“His Grace, the fifth Duke of Kenbridge, is the most caring man I have ever met.” Mrs. Smythe smiled widely. “I have known his family for many years. They are the best of the best.”
Louisa swallowed what was in her mouth before asking, “Is he married?”
A frown changed the housekeeper’s expression, and her amber eyes clouded with pain. “The duchess passed on nigh twelve months ago, I fear. The duke has not been the same since. Poor man, trying to raise his children without a mother.” She shook her head. “It takes a man with a big heart, to be sure.”
Perhaps that was the emotion Louisa had glimpsed in his eyes: mourning his wife. “Thank you for telling me. I shall not bring up the subject again.” She took a sip of her milk and silently sighed with satisfaction.
Although Louisa had promised the housekeeper she wouldn’t bring up the subject of the man’s deceased wife, her curiosity gnawed at her. She couldn’t shake the urge to probe further, to ask the servants until her questions were answered. Besides, it would give her something else to focus on—something to distract her from the haunting memories of her own past. Those memories, if she let them in, would consume her, driving her toward the edge of madness. She needed something, anything, to keep her mind busy, something external that wouldn’t unravel her from within.
She eyed the soup again, its warmth and richness calling to her with an intensity she hadn’t anticipated. Each sip seemed to ignite a deeper hunger within her, a desperation that quickened her pulse. It wasn’t just the taste—it was the gnawing fear that this meal, as perfect as it was, might be her last. A forbidding sense of scarcity gripped her, as if the food could vanish at any moment, taken away without warning. Despite her rational mind knowing the duke would surely feed her again, her body refused to listen. With a surge of urgency, she lifted the bowl, tipping it to her mouth, as if she could protect herself from a world that had denied her too much for far too long.
“Oh, my…” Mrs. Smythe quickly slapped her hand over her mouth, her wide eyes watching in judgment.
“What’s amiss?” Louisa asked with her mouth full. A portion of the soup dribbled down her chin.
Quickly, the housekeeper brought a linen napkin to Louisa and wiped away the liquid before it fell to her clean nightgown.
“I fear… you areveryhungry, my dear. But”—Mrs. Smythe pointed to the utensils—“there is a spoon for you to use.”
Louisa glanced at her hands dripping with soup. Embarrassment washed over her and she snatched the linen cloth to wipe away the proof of bad manners. “Forgive me for acting like I’m half starved.” Perhaps shewasstarved. Her thin arms definitely proved she needed to eat more, and if her stomach—which rested on her backbone—was any indication of how regularly she ate, she would have to fatten up a bit.
Mrs. Smythe’s expression changed from one of shock to humor as she winked. “You just have a healthy appetite. But I think if I ever find the person who was starving you, nothing will keep me from beating him with a whip.” Once again, the servant gasped and slapped her hand over her mouth. This time, however, the color disappeared from her face.
Louisa arched an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. Why had the housekeeper acted so strangely? By all accounts, no one seemed to know her—so why did Mrs. Smythe give her the distinct impression that she did? There was something in the woman’s eyes, a flicker of knowledge, perhaps even suspicion, that Louisa couldn’t ignore.
Wiping her mouth hastily with the back of her hand, Louisa used the sleeve of her gown, an action she immediately regretted. Mrs. Smythe cringed, her disapproval evident, and quickly handed Louisa another linen napkin.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Louisa mumbled, feeling awkward as she dabbed the napkin to her lips. She then attempted to blot the stain from her sleeve, and a flush of embarrassment heated her cheeks. What else had the housekeeper noticed?
“So, Mrs. Smythe?” She lifted her gaze to the servant. “Since I do not remember who I am, do you know me? Do I look familiar at all?”
“No, I’m sorry. I’m really the wrong person to ask. If anyone will know, it’ll be His Grace.”
Frowning, she nodded. “True. I certainly hope someone will know me because I most definitely do not. And not having anything to think about all day will drive me absolutely insane.”
“I cannot even imagine. His Grace will provide you the best medical care available, and I shall assign a maid to stay by your side and keep you company.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Smythe. Your assistance is much appreciated.”
Once the food settled warmly in Louisa’s belly, a deep, bone-weary fatigue crept over her. Her eyelids grew heavy, and each blink became slower than the last. The exhaustion that had been tugging at the edges of her mind now crashed over her in waves. All she wanted was to sink into the soft, inviting bed and let the comfort of the covers wrap around her, shielding her from the world. Sleep beckoned her like a gentle whisper, and she could no longer resist its pull.
“Here now, Miss Louisa.” The housekeeper removed the tray of food. “I think rest is the best medicine.”
Louisa yawned. “I believe you are correct.”
Even though her body ached with exhaustion, Louisa rolled onto her side and closed her eyes, hoping sleep would finally claim her. But it didn’t come easily. Mrs. Smythe had dimmed the lamps, casting the room in a soft, shadowy glow, yet Louisa remained wide awake, her mind restless. Try as she might, the Duke of Kenbridge occupied her every thought. It wasn’t just his striking appearance that intrigued her—though he was undeniably handsome—it was the sorrow the housekeeper had hinted at, the sadness that seemed to cloak his very being.
