Son of a Duke Read Free Page B

stairs ensuring the meal is as much of a success as the ball itself?"  
    She watched Hawkins peel himself out of his misery as if it were a physical thing that clung to him like a wet cloak on a dreary day.   It gave her such a start to watch it unfold, and she knew that she had him.  
    "You, Mr. Hawkins," she continued, "You would make a solid dozen servants and a perfect completion to the evening's meal."  
    Hawkins straightened, a noticeable change coming across his features.  
    "That would be a dozen, indeed, Miss," he said, scanning the room above her head.   What he was looking for, she had not a single idea, but it did not matter as long as he moved his body upstairs.  
    She turned quickly, snatching a tray from a footman's outstretched arms.   She shooed the young man away, pushing the tray into the Hawkins' ready arms.   He looked down at the tray as if it had magically appeared.  
    "You are our twelfth and most gifted footman, Mr. Hawkins.   Now, go up those stairs and make this a memorable occasion."  
    Her talks with Hawkins were starting to sound like the drivel found in ladies' novels, and she worried her mind would turn to philosophical mush.   But Hawkins only stared at her in no apparent sense of recognition before turning and moving up the stairs before her.   She waited until he had reached the top and disappeared through the door leading into the dining room before she turned round.  
    Cook watched her from the other side of the large table that took up much of the center of the kitchen.   The table was strewn with bits of mauled vegetables and scattered pieces of dough.   The older woman's red cheeks rounded on a smile.  
    "You get better at that every day, love," she said and moved away to retrieve bread from the ovens.
    Eleanora relished the moment of resolving another issue but put aside her feelings to return to the matter at hand.   Guests who required attention and a lord and lady to serve.   But what would it feel like to have no one to please?   No one to serve?   Would it be as refreshing and exhilarating as Eleanora imagined?
    She quickly looked over her shoulder, down the hall that led off the kitchens to a door at the very end of the corridor, hidden in the dark recess and just as quickly pushed the ridiculous thought away.
    Returning to the ballroom, she found it just as she had left it.   Not that she had any doubt that anything would be amiss.   Hawkins was in his place, and supper could be served.
    The grandfather clock in the hall chimed midnight.   One, two, three strokes of the bell so far.   The guests should start milling into the other room where the banquet table was set up.   A few had straggled in, but most were still here in the ballroom wanting to gossip a little more while their mouths were free of the ridiculously expensive food set out for them in the opposite room.  
    Eleanora looked to the footman across the floor guarding the doors to the buffet.   He shook his head once to the left.   Less than ten people had moved then.   Well.   She would have to make an announcement to get the rest moving, or they would never get them out of the house by dawn.  
    She stepped away from the pillar she had been pushed against as she had come back into the crowd and began to make her way to the orchestra in the far corner.   It was a crush as always, and various bodies stuffed into outrageously huge garments impeded her way.   She had said Pardon me more times now than she cared to count and suddenly did not feel like saying it any more.   She just started pushing as the rest were pushing back against her.   It really was the only way to move some people.  
    The grandfather clock had struck four more times now.   Seven down, five to go.   She had almost reached the orchestra.   The crowd was starting to lessen over here.   It being so close to the orchestra was probably the reason.   One cannot gossip with loud music pounding in one's ears.   She