Heiress for Hire (Duke's Heiress #1) - Madeline Hunter Page 0,30

the last linen fly to the rinsing tub. “Must you deal with that now?”

“I am due to check the fires up above. Someone else will have to rinse and hang.”

He removed his handkerchief from his pocket and opened it. He took her hand and patted it dry. Then he did the same thing with her other hand. “In the army, when work made hands so raw that the skin cracked and bled, the men would use cooking fats to soothe them. Go to the kitchen and find some. Even if you wipe it off at once, even if you attempt to wash it away, your skin will be protected and will heal faster.”

“Are you really going to tell me what happens at that meeting?”

“If you want me to. It will be no secret since so many will be there. I will pay a call tonight after you return to your house and give you the particulars.”

He had warned her not to have late callers, hadn’t he? Had said men would get ideas if they were allowed over her threshold that late. Yet here he was inviting himself to do just that.

It was no time to get delicate. Chase clearly was conducting an inquiry into the duke’s death. If he convinced the authorities it had been no accident, she fully expected additional inquiries into herself. She might not have much time to find the true culprit behind the duke’s untimely demise.

“I will leave here at nine o’clock,” she said. “If you call at ten, we will talk then.”

“There is only one condition. If I share with you, you must again share with me.”

She nodded, then left him with the laundry. She would find a few bits to give him. She made her way to the kitchen. Cooking fat, he said. She took some while the cook was distracted.

Chapter Eight

“They streamed out of there like their rumps were on fire.” Jeremy regaled his mother and Minerva in the house’s kitchen while they each drank an inch of port. It was a celebration of the end of their duties at Whiteford House. Jeremy’s pay sat on the table in front of him. The stack of coins would be shared with Beth for a bit of personal spending, but Minerva’s pay would go toward household expenses.

It was the understanding that they had made when they joined their fates five years ago. She paid neither of them but she maintained the household. For several years the jewels she sold took care of that. The last year life became more precarious.

Her pay for the last few days did not amount to much, but would help until she could obtain some of the trust’s income. Also, she had returned to find a letter from Mrs. Drable that contained the name of a woman who might be calling to seek out the services of Hepplewhite’s Office of Discreet Inquiries. She hoped so, and not only because it would mean earning some money. She wanted to prove this was an enterprise in which she could succeed.

“None of them looked happy,” Jeremy added. “We were busy for over two hours and received many complaints about the wait. Well, only three of us getting the horses and carriages ready, so it couldn’t all be done at once, could it?”

“Who looked the least happy?” Minerva asked.

“That young one who favors fancy waistcoats. He was not as angry as some of the others, like that dark-haired woman with the deep voice, but he appeared miserable.”

“That would be Phillip. He needs money. He is profligate and runs up debts everywhere. He could end up in debtors’ prison.”

“If he went to the type who loan money, he might be worse off than that.”

Minerva had not considered that Phillip’s concerns were for his physical safety. That might make him very rash if he thought his uncle was going to change his will. After the way he threatened her in the library, she was inclined to find reasons to move him up the list of suspects.

She began to sip the rest of her port, then thought better of it. She already glowed from its warmth, and did not want to put herself at a disadvantage. Chase might flirt a little and charm her with his smiles, but he was no friend and she needed to have her wits about her.

“Did you come to know the footman Andrew?” she asked Jeremy.

“We shared a few words when I would bring horses to the front. Friendly sort. That Thompson fellow