“Butlers don’t light fires, do they?”
“No, my lord, it would be beneath his position.”
Thomas sighed. “I understand. “
“Mrs. Norton is also upset with her ladyship.”
“Her too?”
“Lady Farnham hired a young girl from the village without consulting her. Mrs. Norton said she didn’t need another maid, and her ladyship ran her white gloves over a dusty frame and said that she could use another maid.”
“Is the village girl settling in all right?”
“Nancy seems eager to please and eats like she’s never had proper meal, which she probably hasn’t,” Thayne explained. “But she’s never been taught to be a housemaid and doesn’t know how to do the job properly. Mrs. Norton and the other maids have had to teach her and sometimes clean up after her mistakes.”
Thomas nodded. “And do the footmen have any complaints against my wife?”
“No, she is an excellent tipper…but—”
“But?”
“They also feel like she doesn’t know her place. A countess should not teach music to school children or shake hands with the lower classes.”
Thomas waved his hand. “Shaking hands is very common in America.”
“We’re not in America, my lord, and such behaviors lower her in the eyes of the staff and the villagers.”
Thomas bit his lip.
“I am sorry, my lord, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Thayne said, and bowed to Thomas obsequiously.
Thomas could not imagine an American servant doing the same. Yet he’d never thought of it before. He’d merely accepted it as a normal part of life, but in this moment, he realized how grating it was. He was a young man, barely one and twenty. He’d done nothing in his life worthy of being worshiped or shown excessive devotion.
He placed his hand on Thayne’s arm. “Thank you, Thayne. I appreciate your candor.”
Thomas went down to dinner, distracted. His mother and Penelope were somber in black gowns, but Cordelia dazzled in a breezy gown of light blue tulle and organza. She seemed weightless in it, and for the first time in weeks, she greeted him with a smile. She was so striking when she was happy. The weight that constantly pressed against his chest felt a bit lighter. As if it’d been lifted, if only for a moment.
Cordelia sat on the opposite end of the long dining table, which he realized was ridiculous. They weren’t entertaining a large party. The table was enormous for just the four of them.
“Hibbert.”
“My lord?”
“Please move my wife’s plate to my right side.”
“But that is the dowager’s place.”
“Move her down one chair.”
“But my lord, it is not her proper place.”
“Proper be hanged, Hibbert,” Thomas said, and gave a small smile to placate the butler. “This table is really too large for such a small party. Perhaps we ought to eat in the breakfast room.”
Hibbert visually shivered at the thought of such a social solecism of eating dinner in the breakfast room. Thomas would have laughed if he hadn’t realized it would offend his butler, and he didn’t wish to injure the man’s sensibilities further. The butler moved Cordelia’s place setting next to Thomas’s and took out his measuring stick to make sure that the glass was the correct distance from the plate. Once Hibbert was finished, Thomas pulled back the chair and held it for Cordelia. She sat down and he pushed her in.
The starting course was served and for the first time, Thomas realized how little the footmen put in her bowl. The second course was the same. He cursed himself for not noticing it before. She’d sat on the opposite end of the table, but that was no excuse for him not to realize how poorly his wife was being treated in their own home.
Cordelia picked up her fork.
