Her cheeks burned at the thought. She looked quickly round. Anyhow there was still time for flight. She picked up her gloves from where she had laid them on the settle, and got to her feet.
“The water won’t be long in boiling, Madam,” said Antony’s voice.
He had come back quietly into the room. For a moment he glanced in half surprise to see the Duchessa standing by the settle. Then he crossed to the dresser, and began taking down a cup, a saucer, and a plate.
The Duchessa sat down again, drawing her hand nervously along her gloves.
She looked at him getting down the things and setting them on the table. She watched his neat, deft movements. Antony took no notice of her; she might have been part of the settle itself for all the attention he paid her. His preparations made, he returned momentarily to the scullery to fill the teapot. Coming back with it he placed it on the table.
“Everything is ready, Madam,” he said. Dale himself could not have been more distantly respectful.
The Duchessa looked at the one cup, the one saucer, and the one plate.
“Aren’t you going to have some tea, too?” she asked.
“Servants do not sit down with their superiors,” said Antony.
The colour rose hotly in the Duchessa’s face.