“Avery!”
The valet in question entered the door from what Mrs. Harper had called the “area.” He carried the thankfully empty chamber pot in front of him, the lid turned upside down. Leah jumped the last two stairs to get to him sooner.
“The duke is awake, and he asked for you. He smiled at me, and he said my name. I was right, this is going to work.”
The words poured from her like rain from a summer cloud. It wasn’t so much to gloat, either. More to share her triumph with her friend. They were still friends, right?
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Avery’s nostrils flared, but he remained expressionless
other than that. “I shall attend him directly. You can replace the chamber pot now, I trust?” He offered it to her, but she stumbled backward, warding the disgusting object away with waving hands.
“Can you take it up, since you’ve got to go anyway?”
She might sound pathetic, but damn it, hot water was hard to come by around here. And she didn’t even know if they’ve heard of bleach yet. “You’re already contaminated.”
He blew an angry breath. “I must attend to His Grace immediately. If you are capable of performing your duties, you must prove it now.”
Leah shifted from foot to foot, searching her boggled brain for an answer to this problem. Gloves! Wait, they didn’t have latex yet, did they. Maybe like, a towel or a rag she could wrap the pot in…
Avery didn’t give her a chance to realize her half-formed flash of brilliance. He plopped the chamber pot in her hands and headed directly upstairs.
“Oh my God,” Leah moaned, bolting upstairs after him as fast as she could. “I’m carrying a toilet.” Bile filled her mouth and she swallowed hard, nearly stumbling as she hit the landing and skidded.
“Careful there.” The thread of amusement in Avery’s words nearly made her chuck the damn pot at his head.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she hissed as they rounded the corner and entered the dressing chamber.
“You think it’s funny that I might die of some horrible disease because of the lack of sanitation here.”
He rolled his eyes as he crossed to the bedroom door.
“You shall not die. More’s the pity, you shall live to empty many, many more chamber pots.”
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She didn’t have time to snap back at him because he disappeared into the duke’s bedchamber then.
Slamming down the chamber pot into the corner behind the screen, Leah stomped back to the fireplace and resumed brushing the ashes out with overly violent motions. God, that valet was such an asshole. Handsome as all get out, but a real irritant. Fortunately, she thought as she tucked a loose curl back beneath her cap, I’m on the right track. After seeing the duke smile, I know I was right about him. It’s just a matter of getting to know each other now, and Mrs. Knightsbridge’s prophecy will come true.
She just had to stick it out that long, and things would fall into place. She hoped.
i
“There you are, lad.” His Grace’s voice floated from the corner of the room by the window.
“My apologies, Your Grace. I am here to assist you.”
Avery stood with back straight against the wall, awaiting his orders. Though he’d been told time and again to relax in the duke’s presence, he could not. In his experience, most so-called gentlemen were not to be trusted. Even though His Grace had given him no cause for alarm, his instincts would not give over.
The duke rose from his seat by the window, where he’d been looking out across the early dawn covered Town.
Avery didn’t take more than a single glance out of the pane.
Something was not right. His spine prickled with warning.
“We shall ride out in two days time. The Houndstooth tourney has been arranged.” His Grace sank into the bedclothes, an eager smile on his face. “I’m told that you shall be the man to beat, Russell.”
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Avery’s heart sank. He’d halfway hoped that the
duke would refuse to allow him to fight. He should have known better. His Grace had discovered him in the mills, and though he’d been kind enough to give Avery a respectable position, he’d never made a secret of his continued support of the Fancy, those members of the ton who supported boxing. The other members would not take kindly to one of their favorites missing the famous Houndstooth, especially if Prachett was trumpeting about his supposed attendance.
“Very well, Your Grace.” Avery bowed low and turned to leave.
“Russell.”
Avery ground to an immediate halt. Turning, he watched as the duke’s smile faded. “Yes, Your Grace?”