Chapter Nine

Sunday

When Hilda knocked on her bedroom door and brought her a cup of tea, Crystal rubbed her eyes with exhaustion. “I barely slept last night. Have you word of the duke?”

“His symptoms have abated, I’m told, and he’s resting in his room,” Hilda said, setting the cup beside her and going to light the small fire already laid in the fireplace. “All the servants are very distressed.”

“Lord Lyle thought his father was poisoned. He accused the chef of it,” she said, thinking through the events of last night as she sipped her tea, grateful for the comfort of the expensive brew.

“The poor man came back crying and shaking into the kitchen, where I was having dinner with the household. He was quite inconsolable, but he did sing your praises. Said you set on the lord like a termagant, protected him from blame, and even ate a supposedly poisoned biscuit to prove your point.”

She eyed Hilda as the maid laid out her morning dress. “Did he really call me a termagant?”

“No, I made that up, but I’ve seen you when your gall is up.” Hilda grinned. “You made me right proud in front of all the servants.”

“I didnae like how the lord treated his chef. Oh, he’s kind enough to me and his kin, but he terrorized that poor man,” she said, troubled. “He has the temper of the devil. It took all I had to make him see sense. I thought he might beat the man.”

Hilda helped her out of her night rail and took out a pair of new fine stockings and a clean shift, laying them at the end of her bed. “Dinnae judge him too harshly, fer he was right worried. I heard he didn’t leave his father’s side all night. And he came down to the kitchens and apologized to the chef this morning.”

“He apologized? That is good to hear. Perhaps I’ve judged him too quickly. I didn’t think he was a man to humble himself to a servant.” She finished her tea and went to use the commode in the room where the strange shower contraption resided. She washed her face and hands in the washstand and rejoined Hilda to dress, sitting on the seat in front of the dresser, ready to slide on her stockings.

“I also heard you were the first lassie ever to stand up to the dowager duchess and hold yer own,” Hilda said, holding out her stockings, then slipped the shift over her head.

Crystal stood and took a deep breath in as Hilda fitted her stays. “Do you blame me? She claimed my father fell off his horse in battle on account of him being drunk.”

Hilda gasped, and her eyes widened in horror. “Did ye box her ears for bringing dishonor to your house?”

Crystal laughed and had to suck her breath back in again so Hilda could finish tightening her stays. “At the dining table, she accused me of believing women feel desire.” She rolled her eyes and pointed to herself in mock innocence. “I’ll never live that slip down.”

“The servants were shocked at her bringing up such a lewd subject. They think the dowager is losing her mind.”

Crystal caught Hilda’s reflection in the mirror and grinned.

“I didn’t tell them it was true,” Hilda added as she helped her pull on her petticoat.

She held up the day gown, a white muslin dress embroidered with tiny flowers. Crystal put her arms into it and waited as Hilda fiddled with the buttons at the back of the gown. She sat at the dresser so Hilda could do her hair.

“I have a dilemma,” she said. “The duke is considering providing funding for educating women in his duchy. Nothing grand, just to teach them to read and write like the boys in the parish schools, but it’s a huge step forward.”

“That’s verra generous of him.” Hilda heated a pair of tongs in the fireplace and began tidying Crystal’s curls.

“But I dinnae think he’ll agree to it if he finds out I have spoken publicly about desire. So many women would benefit from the chance to learn to read and write…but he’s bound to hear about my gaff eventually.”

“Perhaps you’ll have to confess, my lady. He’ll be shocked. Even I was, and I know how outspoken you can be,” Hilda said, regarding her with a serious expression.

“I could never do that. He’s a very conservative man. It isn’t a suitable subject to raise with anyone. How I wish I had better control of my tongue.”

Sometimes she wondered if she was a normal woman, given she thought about physical pleasure every day. But desire wasn’t a subject she could talk about, not even with her sisters. Her maid would be horrified if she knew about the hole in the cellar wall. The way the footman had taken the maid like a horse…driving into her so that her breasts jiggled with the force of it—

Stop it, Crystal! There had to be some way to erase the images and the need that refused to stay buried. Just being around Lord Lyle set her pulse racing. She got to her feet, agitated and unable to quell the conflict that welled inside her. How could she influence women and create change, yet still get approval from the duke?

He was bound to hear about her recent outburst.

She’d talk to Lord Lyle. He was a lord with influence, and he didn’t think her ideas were absurd. Instead, he appeared fascinated by everything she said.