Heiress in Love by Christina Brooke Page B

loyalty.”
    He winked. “Fell in love with the butler, did you? The old devil! Didn’t know Feather had it in him.”
    Marthe drew herself up. “That cadaver! Is it likely that I would love such a one?”
    “Who, then?”
    A twinkle replaced the indignation. She fluttered an airy hand. “It matters not who.”
    Grinning, he recalled his own youthful tendre for a pretty little parlor maid. “Is Violet still here? Now she was a saucy piece.”
    “Ah, but she had ambition, that one,” said Marthe. She shrugged. “Some visiting milady took a liking to her and lured her away to become her personal maid.”
    Constantine swallowed. “Good for Violet.” He looked around the kitchen. “I’m amazed the fine milady didn’t lure you as well.”
    Marthe shrugged. “Many have tried, but me, I am paid very well and I have been content. But eh voilà ! Now that you are here, I can create!”
    He grinned. “Excellent. Marthe, you shall create to your heart’s content.” He waved his fork in a shooing motion. “But I am keeping you from your meal. Go, I insist!”
    “Yes, milord.” With a chuckle, Marthe bobbed a curtsy and left.
    Constantine devoted himself again to his plate, but the clatter of footsteps down the stairs disturbed his enjoyment. He looked up to see a dark-haired boy erupt into the kitchen, then stop short.
    One glance told Constantine this was no kitchen boy. The cut of his nankeen jacket and the quality of its brass buttons proclaimed his status as a member of the family.
    The boy seemed to collect himself. He made a quick, jerky bow and panted, “Lord Roxdale, sir.”
    Constantine smiled. “And you must be Luke.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Rising, Constantine moved around the table and held out his hand to his ward.
    Luke tilted his head a little, as if confounded by his guardian’s offer to shake hands. Then he stretched out his own and gripped Constantine’s with a slightly aggressive force.
    Ah. So Lady Roxdale wasn’t the only one who objected to his presence at Lazenby.
    Lightly, Constantine said, “If you’ve come down here in search of a decent breakfast, let me recommend the bacon. It’s excellent.”
    A furtive glance to the servants’ hall betrayed the boy. His eyes grew round when his gaze alighted on Constantine’s heaped plate.
    “I won’t tell if you don’t,” said Constantine.
    Luke swallowed and sent another glance toward the kitchens. “It’s just that I don’t like to hurt Aunt Jane’s feelings.”
    “I quite understand. But this sort of grub is more what a man needs for sustenance than that, er … lighter fare upstairs,” said Constantine. “Load your plate and bring it back here, will you? You and I ought to become better acquainted.”
    The boy’s highly expressive face reflected the war of conscience and desire that went on in his mind. Desire finally won, and he scampered off to collect his own meal.
    Upon his return, he sat on a chair a little removed from Constantine’s. Luke kept his eyes on his plate, shoveling Marthe’s flavorsome food in his mouth, presumably so he didn’t have to talk to his companion.
    Undeterred, Constantine kept up an easy stream of reminiscences about his time at Lazenby. “When we were boys, Frederick and I would come down here and visit Marthe. We’d pack our saddlebags full of treats from the kitchen and ride all around the estate. We were knights, slaying dragons and rescuing fair maidens.” He grinned. “I liked the rescuing part.”
    There was a touch of envy in Luke’s gaze. “Aunt Jane says I’m too young to ride my pony without a groom along. She rides with me sometimes, but…” He shrugged a shoulder.
    Constantine frowned. “How old are you again?”
    “Six and three quarters,” said Luke, his voice tinged with indignation.
    “Hmm.” At that age, Constantine and Frederick had been up to all sorts of mischief, enjoying the freedom of boyhood to the full. He didn’t blame Luke for the despondent tone to his