No gasp, no awkward pause. “The knot seems to have slipped; I almost have it, Your Grace.”
Did he stop breathing when her nimble fingers searched his thigh? That he did feel, as much as the twinges of what was missing, the aches and itches where flesh had been sutured. The doctors said the searing jabs were normal and would lessen, and they had, except on days like today when it looked like rain.
Her ring finger, the one with a simple silver band, found the knot of his straps and tugged it higher, adjusting the ribbon under his breeches.
“I can be trusted, Your Grace. And I won’t let you go about your duties poorly served. Or have a house bared of linens when I know the solution would put my position in jeopardy.”
The unmasking was not just his to do. She’d figured out his secretandwas clever enough to know sending his men to the catacombs would bring her trouble.
When she rose, the gentle slow movement was like a queen’s, as if she’d stooped to expose him. Was she above every conspiracy running through his head?
“Your Grace, it’s time to feed your ward. I must ask you to leave. I’ll stay until you find a proper replacement. I’ll even go to Town and help stock up supplies for Master Lionel’s care. There are things he should have.”
“Make a list. I’ll see to the items.” He pushed up onto his crutch and moved to the door.
She slipped past him and held it open. “Do we have an understanding?”
Why did it feel as if she’d turned the tables? And why did he become a little more lost in wide eyes that held no scorn, or shock, or disgust. He edged through the threshold. “Yes. You shall stay a day or two, but I will find a suitable replacement. Keep waging the war to make the nursery pass inspection. Tomorrow at one o’clock, when you set the babe down for his nap, come to the study. We can go over Lionel’s schedule.”
She nodded and closed the door on him, leaving him leering at the paneled wood like a witless fool.
But his questions remained.
Why would she be sneaking about Hamlin? What other secrets had she unearthed? And how would he pay for allowing her to stay a couple more days?
Gantry would find a replacement nanny, even if it meant allowing LaCroy to stay a week or two. Given more time, the widow might make a full confession. Keeping her around shouldn’t cost him too much.
CHAPTER 11
SIXTHDAY ON THEJOB
Ihummed as I looked at Lionel asleep in his crib. He’d suckled a bigger breakfast than he had the past two days, even bigger than the first day in my old . . . in the duke’s bedchamber.
Misty-eyed, I folded the rest of Lionel’s clean linens listening to his snores.
Last one done and stowed in his wardrobe, I stretched, looking about this room that was once our prison. It never made sense why Markham locked me and Lionel in here. Maybe he thought the isolation and my grief would break me.
Nothing would break me when it came to protecting Lionel. I’d defy all who tried.
Shaking my head, I focused on the beautiful sea-blue walls and the large shells I again displayed on the wardrobe. The conch with its colors of pink and gold were one of the treasures I’d brought from home. The room looked like how I had wanted for Lionel, clean with his crib fashioned as a ship’s berth. He was the captain, the master of his fate.
I wasn’t the master or mistress of mine, however. Lionel would have to do better than me.
Somewhere in the house one of the grandfather clocks chimed. Time to meet with the duke and stare at him as he requested updates on the linens and baby care.
Staring at him wasn’t a terrible task. It was quite easy, particularly when he wore his uniform—scarlet regimentals and white sashes wrapping about him like a present. I didn’t remember liking soldiers, but the ones visiting Demerara weren’t as kind or as thoughtful as the duke. He made sure Jemina and I ate, and he kept his men courteous to us, addressing us as ma’am, none of the slurs I’d heard Markham or Hamlin’s old servants utter.
I leaned in close to my baby, watching his chest rise. “Being a servant in our old home is easier than I thought. Must be because you are so easy to love. You think your mother can make it through the week here?”
Lionel arched his hand and swooped the tiny digit like an eagle to nest in his puckered lips.
That had to be a sign of confidence.
I stroked his forehead. “Brilliant boy.”
Yes, thumb-sucking was something all babies did, but Lionel did it with such elegance. I took it as a symbol of good luck.
I tiptoed from the nursery and shut the door, refusing to dwell on whether today would be my dismissal.
