Free A Guardians Angel by Jo Ann Ferguson Page B

that would stick to your ribs.”
    “Thank you,” Angela said when the garrulous cook paused to take a breath.
    Only when Angela had taken a plate and started to fill it from the salvers on the sideboard did the cook seem satisfied. When the door had closed behind Mrs. Seger, Angela looked down at her plate with dismay. It contained twice as much breakfast as she customarily ate. She began to spoon some of it back into the serving platters when assertive footfalls echoed from the corridor.
    Consternation cramped through her. If the duke saw her standing by the sideboard, putting eggs back like a naughty child, he would question anew his decision to hire her to be Miss Sutton’s companion. She sighed and carried the plate to the table. It was her fault that she had allowed the cook to intimidate her. Now she must pay the price.
    Angela was spreading sweet butter on a blueberry muffin when the duke entered. Under the arm of his dark green coat, he carried a newspaper. He nodded to her before serving himself. Setting the newspaper by his plate, he sat across from her. His eyes widened when he looked at the amount of food on her plate, but he said only, “I see you have made yourself quite at home here.”
    As heat rose along her face, Angela said, “I was unsure if I should wait for anyone else this morning. If—”
    “We keep the hours we wish here in the country, as you have no doubt seen, Miss Needham.” He opened the folded newspaper and raised it in front of him. “I trust you will eventually accustom yourself to our ways.”
    Angela could not tell if he was jesting, for the newspaper remained between them. His even voice gave no hint, and she wondered, despite Miss Sutton’s assertions to the contrary, if this stern man ever smiled.
    “Your Grace?” she asked.
    “Yes.” He still did not lower the newspaper.
    “I wish to speak to you about Master Thomas.”
    “What has the boy done now?”
    “Done?” She wished he would look at her instead of the tiny print on the pages between them. “I wish to speak to you of his drawing skills. Your Grace, he is very talented.”
    “So I understand.”
    “But I thought you had seen his work.”
    The duke finally lowered the newspaper and regarded her steadily. “Who told you that?”
    “Just—” She bit back Justin’s name, which would cause the duke’s brows to lower even farther. “’Tis just an assumption.”
    “Making assumptions is not a wise thing to do.”
    Heavy footsteps stopped by the doorway and halted Angela’s answer. A generously proportioned woman wrung her hands over her dull gray uniform that matched the streaks in her hair. The keys at her side identified her as Mrs. Burkhardt, the housekeeper. She glanced at Angela, then, dampening her lips, said, “Your Grace, that beast is loose in the conservatory again.”
    Angela looked from the woman’s scowl to the duke’s newspaper. He did not lower it as he said, “Mrs. Burkhardt, send someone to have Esther remove it immediately. She knows there may be plants in the conservatory that would not agree with it.”
    “But, Your Grace, she—”
    “Take the message yourself, Mrs. Burkhardt, if you feel she will heed you more than anyone else. If not, send for Mrs. Meyer. After all, it is her duty as governess to keep track of that imp.” He raised the newspaper and, turning a page, leaned back in his chair. Without waiting to see if his orders were carried out, he added, “Miss Needham, I fear Esther has an endless aptitude for mischief.”
    Angela’s gaze remained on the housekeeper, who was clearly torn between obeying the duke and urging him to help her. Taking pity on the poor woman, Angela said, “If you wish, Your Grace, I shall assist Mrs. Burkhardt.”
    “You?” He kept on reading, but she heard his amazement. “I believe you have scant idea of what an adventure you might be setting upon.”
    “Your Grace—”
    The duke interrupted Mrs. Burkhardt again, “Do go and find Mrs.