Page 26 of Lavender’s Lost Duke

“Henry,” she smiled. “Our groundskeeper had seen me panicking when I ran into the house, and he came to see what was wrong. It was him who pulled me from the fire and called for help. He saw the angry red spot on my neck, already swollen from where the bee had stung me. Rose took over from there. She removed the stinger and used her rose water to help calm my reaction.”

Lady Lavender reached into the hidden pocket in her dress. “I keep some of Rose’s concoction with me at all times now, just in case it ever happens again.”

The duchess wrapped Lady Lavender in a hug. “Rose told me to make certain you did not spend too much time out of doors. How many times have you been stung?”

“Four.”

“And have they all been as terrifying?” Her Grace asked.

“None so terrifying as that one, but they have all caused serious concern for my life.”

Thomas had known about her reaction to bee stings from the day they’d met, but seeing her arm fueled fury within him. He hated bees. He’d never known it before, but he did now. It was no wonder Lady Lavender was only able to relax outside at night.

The duchess shook her head. “I’m glad you keep some of that on you.” Then she turned to Tom. “And you know she is never to be out in the garden alone?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“All that to say, Jack,” Lady Lavender’s voice turned falsely happy, “that I have experienced burns before. Soak them in water or bread and milk when you need to.” She turned back to Mrs. Bitters. “And I would send for carron oil from the apothecary. That was what I found to be most helpful. Until you procure some of that, we can use some honey.”

Mrs. Bitters looked at Thomas. “You heard her. Go to the apothecary.” She swatted her hand at Thomas as if he were an annoying fly.

The duchess stood from the table and balanced Colin on her hip, her eyes large when they fell on Thomas. “Actually, I’d like to go. I want you to stay with Jack, Tom. What he needs most is a good friend like you. A walk would do my nerves some good after this morning. When my husband returns from his meeting with Lord Chilcott, I want you to tell him everything that has occurred.”

Thomas held her gaze with a gratitude he was not allowed to speak. She was protecting him from going into town where he might be recognized and giving him a reason to speak with his friend. He bowed low to her. “Of course, Your Grace.”

She left directly.

Thomas patted Jack on the back. “I guess you’ll have to lord over me again while I do all the work around here.” He winked at the boy.

Tears leaked slowly from Jack’s eyes, but he smiled at Thomas. “Here you are making my dreams come true. My own personal servant . . . at last.”

Thomas ruffled Jack’s unruly orange hair. “I am at your command.”

Upon Samuel’s return home, Thomas left the boy in Lady Lavender and Mrs. Bitter’s capable hands and walked with a heavy heart to the duke’s study.

He sat in a leather chair across from Samuel’s large oak desk. Weeks ago, he would have felt at home in such a stately room. Now he felt like an intruder, afraid of touching anything in case he got it dirty. He sat back and rested his head against the wall behind him.

What had he gotten himself into? He was only supposed to be in hiding to simplify his problems, but at this point, he felt it was for far more than that. Lord Chilcott was still unrelenting in his attacks on Thomas, which didn’t make it appealing to have to reenter society any time soon, especially if people were actively looking to turn in his whereabouts for payment. Surprisingly, he wouldn’t hate the idea of working for Samuel longer if it didn’t mean he would have to give up a chance to court Lady Lavender. But he couldn’t court her properly as a footman or until his true name was cleared. It was a circular mess that continued to get messier by the day.

Chapter 13

Lavender could almost feel the pain of her own burns return when she looked at Jack’s hands. It was the smell of the carron oil, heavy in the air, like linseed and chalk, that made her feel as if she was fourteen again. As good as the oil had felt on her damaged skin, it was a reminder of the months of pain following the accident. To this day, she wasn’t sure if it was the bee sting or her own panic that had caused her throat to close off, but she assumed it was a combination of the two. When she was much younger, she’d been stung by a bee on her leg, and her breathing had become labored then as well, but it had taken minutes to get to that point. She’d been able to tell her nurse what had happened. She shuddered to think about that first time.

The doctor, Mr. Marshall, had been so gentle with her when he’d explained that a bee sting could kill her in the future. It was then that Rose had taken it upon herself to find a solution to Lavender’s problems. She and her mother had visited with the apothecary about rose waters and then decided to make their own. Most rose water was used as a perfume, but there were properties in the petals that would help with inflammation. The rose water that Rose made was undiluted as much as possible so that the effects were strong enough to work quickly.

In reality, Lavender knew that it might not be strong enough to stop the sting from killing her, but it was the one lifeline she’d held to for hope. So far, her handful of stings hadn’t been fatal. She’d lived a careful life for a long time. But she couldn’t be a hermit forever. Nights were her solitude, though she could only spend so much time outside when it was freezing. Memories crashed over her as she rubbed slow circles on Jack’s back in the kitchen.

She didn’t hear what was happening around her; she simply wanted to provide a modicum of comfort for Jack. It was a shame that it was his hands—he would be helpless for quite some time from the injuries. Lavender determined to talk with Miriam about his case. She wanted to be sure the boy didn’t lose his position for a lack of being able to work in the meantime.

Her heart had warmed more than she cared to admit when Tom had vowed to be his personal servant. How would it be to have a friend so dedicated to your wellbeing that they would offer such a thing? It wasn’t in Tom’s job description to care for the other servants of the house, but he hadn’t hesitated. He was a good man.

Lavender didn’t regret showing Jack her scars, but now Tom had seen them as well. It was likely the last time he would pay her any special attention. From her experience, people saw them and acted as though she had the plague. She’d first worn the gloves because her mother had demanded it of her. But she continued with the practice because the sight made other people uncomfortable, and it was her duty to make sure people around her weren’t upset. She was supposed to bring peace, even if that meant enduring discomfort at times. Mr. Lanscombe hadn’t even seen the full extent of her scarring, and still he’d remarked on how disfigured she was because of it.

Maybe that was the real reason her mother hadn’t sent her to London before now. It was likely that Lavender’s monstrosity of an arm would cause talk, and not of a positive nature. All this time, Lavender had thought her parents had forgotten about her. It was an even more sobering thought to believe they might be disgraced or embarrassed by her.

“Lady Lavender,” Mrs. Bitters placed a hand on Lavender’s shoulder.

She shook herself from her melancholy thoughts. “I’m sorry, what did you need?”