Free Secrets of Sloane House by Shelley Gray Page B

turned to exit the room, she looked at the crowd in the once pristine conservatory. Veronica was standing in the center of the room, glowering. Mrs. Sloane looked pensive. Mrs. Abrams eyed her with disapproval. Jerome looked mildly amused.
    And Douglass . . . Douglass’s gaze was unwavering as he walked out of the room by her side. “Don’t fret, pet,” he said almost kindly. “All that really matters is that you weren’t hurt any worse.”
    “Yes, sir,” she murmured.
    “And don’t let my sister scare you too much. I’ll take care of her.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Sloane.”
    When she met his gaze, he winked.
    “It’s Douglass. Remember, you said you were going to call me that when we were alone.”
    As she parted ways with him just a few feet from the servants’hall, Rosalind knew something important had just happened. Douglass had come to her defense against the wishes of his sister. Unequivocally. She now was in his debt.
    Rosalind was certain that they both knew it.

CHAPTER 8
    M rs. Russell frowned when she studied the cuts on the palm of Rosalind’s hand. They were bleeding, and some shards were no doubt embedded deep inside at least one of the cuts. “This looks as bad as if you’d gotten on the losing end of a knife fight! You’re going to need some stitches, I think.”
    Rosalind looked at her smarting hand. “Cook, are you sure?”
    “Oh, I am certain.” Glancing at Dora, the assistant cook, Mrs. Russell snapped her fingers. “Fetch the doctor, wouldja?”
    Right after the shy woman flew from the kitchen, Cook clucked a bit. “Everything’ll be as right as rain before you know it. Dora don’t look like much, but she’s fast on her feet, she is. And the Sloane name gets results. That doctor will be here in a jiffy.”
    But even the thought of getting patched up quickly didn’t make Rosalind feel any better. “I don’t see why Mrs. Sloane would pay for the expense of having the doctor here.” Especially since she’d just broken several pieces of expensive china.
    Cook waved off her worries. “Don’t you worry about that none. Here at Sloane House, appearance is everything. The last thing anyone—most especially Mrs. Sloane—will want to get out is that the family pinched pennies on their servants.” Peering at her a bit more closely, she frowned, her usually merry golden eyes looking worried. “Now sit down before you fall down. You’re looking peaked.”
    Because she did feel rather light-headed, Rosalind gladly sank down on the kitchen chair, trying not to focus on the pain throbbing in her hand or the way it continued to bleed.
    As if Cook was thinking the same thing, she placed a neat stack of old dishcloths under Rosalind’s hand, no doubt to save the oak table from permanent stains. There was already some blood on Rosalind’s uniform.
    Less than ten minutes later, Dora reappeared.
    Cook looked up. “You must have run like the wind.”
    Dora rolled her eyes. “Jerome told me to tell you that Mrs. Sloane had already sent him for Dr. Nolan. Jerome said the doctor should be here presently.”
    “See there, Rosalind? Things will be just fine in no time.” Cook smiled kindly, but even through her pain, Rosalind could tell that things were very far from fine.
    “Do you think I’ll be dismissed?”
    “Over a few broken teacups? I shouldn’t think so.”
    But Rosalind noticed that Cook didn’t look her in the eye when she spoke and that Dora looked worried.
    Turning to Stanley, who had just wandered in, she said, “Miss Veronica said those dishes were Haviland. That means they were expensive, right?”
    He nodded. “Everything’s expensive here.”
    Well, that certainly didn’t make her feel any better.
    “You know what?” Cook blurted. “I think we could all use a nice cup of tea.” Turning to Dora, who had just gotten out her rolling pin, she said, “Dora, be a love and make us a cuppa, would you? Bring one for Dr. Nolan too. He’s always a mite parched when he