Free The Ravencliff Bride by Dawn Thompson

murmurings below stairs.”
    “Murmurings, Mills?”
    The valet nodded. “You know how the staff feels about Nero. Up until now the chatter has been harmless enough, but you must take care. There’s been talk of . . .
doing him to death
.”
    Nicholas vaulted erect in the chair. “The insolent gudgeons! How dare they plot my murder under my own roof?”
    “Not your murder, my lord . . .
Nero’s
murder. I know how close you are to the . . . er . . . situation, but you must remember that. They would never—”
    “Yes. Yes, I know, Mills, but still, to take it upon themselves to plot to harm—
to kill
—anything of mine? I pay these layabouts’ wages. How do they dare!”
    “I know, my lord, and I certainly shan’t defend them, but you know how they feel about the animal’s sudden comings and goings. They are simple folk, and it frightens them.”
    “Nero has not once
ever
caused anyone in this household harm,” Nicholas said, with raised voice. “And his comings and goings cannot be helped, you know that.”
    “Shhh, my lord, someone will hear! You know how superstitious the help are in this house. I knew this would overset you, but do not rail at me for telling it.”
    “I’m not railing at you, Mills, I’m railing at circumstance. How long has this been going on?”
    “The matter has just recently come to my attention—certainly long enough for concern, my lord. I have been keeping a close eye upon things, believe me.”
    “Damn and blast! You should have come to me sooner.”
    “Please, my lord, do not overset yourself. You know the risks. I was hoping I could quell the insurrection, but I have not been able. I did not want to burden you with this as things are here now . . . with my lady just arriving and all, but there was nothing for it. You must be careful what Nero eats when he’s . . . abroad, my lord. There has been talk of putting out some of the arsenic the grooms use to poison the rats in the stables.”
    “Bloody hell!” Nicholas hollered, vaulting out of the chair. “Who is behind this . . . this ‘insurrection’? I want his name! By God, he won’t see another sun rise over this estate. He’s sacked—now—tonight.”
    “You cannot sack the whole lot below, my lord.”
    “I want his name, Mills,” Nicholas said, the words thrumming with dangerous calm.
    The valet hesitated. “Peters is the one whose voice is loudest, my lord, but he scarcely had to convince the rest. They were ripe for it.”
    “Peters, you say? I should have guessed.” Nicholas began to pace the length of the carpet. “This is awkward. The little blighter’s formed a
tendre
for Nell. I’ve just made her my lady’s abigail, and Peters is the hall boy up there. I do not need a disgruntled lady’s maid on my hands here now, and that’s just what will be if I sack the boy. There’s no one suitable below stairs to replace the girl. Ha! I know what this stems from. Nero caught the lad asleep at his post and had to wake him . . . rather abruptly. Don’t look at me like that, Mills! Nero only frightened the bufflehead.”
    The valet’s bushy eyebrow lifted, and his mouth crimped at the corners. “Evidently, my lord,” he pronounced.
    “Yes, well, you just leave Peters to me. He gets a reprieve . . . for the moment. You had it just so. I cannot have chaos here now, as things are with my lady and Breeden coming.”
    “Yes, my lord.”
    Nicholas dosed the valet with a withering stare. “Peters is not off the hook, Mills,” he said. “Not by a long shot. You’ve put me in an impossible position here.”
    “
I
, my lord?” the valet blurted.
    “If I confront him, he will know you’ve told me, won’t he? What use will you be as my eyes and ears below stairs then, hm? Without you to keep an eye out for rat poison and the like, what will become of me? I shudder to wonder. You’ve tied my hands quite nicely, old boy.”
    “Yes, my lord,” the valet said, forlorn. Again, his jaw worked, forming words