The Villain Duke's Butler Served Him Too Well novel · Chapter 3 of 24
Chapter 3: The Vintage
Lord Hadrian arrives with a case of birthday wine and, alone in the pantry, hands Corwin the vial for the third glass, 'as always'; the duke heard every word from the stair.
Corwin had his shirt and gloves on in under a minute.
Leander did not move from the chair.
"Receive him in the hall," he said.
"The whole household on the stairs.
"I'll come down when you've kept him waiting long enough to be rude."
"Yes, my lord."
"And Corwin."
Corwin turned at the door.
"Whatever he gives you," Leander said, "take it."
Leander wasn't looking at him.
He was looking at the cold fireplace, and he was gripping his own knee so hard that his knuckles showed.
Corwin went down the east stair with his mouth still tasting of him.
By the time he opened the front door, he had his butler's face back on.
Lord Hadrian Dauntrey stepped out of his coach with both arms already open.
He was forty-nine, handsome in a heavy, comfortable way, with silver coming into his brown beard and a face the whole capital called kind.
Four footmen carried a crate up the steps behind him.
"Corwin!" he said warmly.
"You look rested.
"I never saw you rested before."
"The spring agrees with me, my lord."
"Does it?"
Hadrian's eyes held Corwin's a moment longer than a greeting needed.
Then he turned to the household lined up on the stairs.
The housekeeper stood at the top with her hands knotted in her apron, and the maids and footmen were ranged below her.
Hadrian spread his arms again.
"Where is my nephew?
"Where is the man of the day?"
"His Grace is dressing, my lord.
"He will be down shortly."
"Of course, of course.
"Twenty-one only comes once."
He nodded at the crate.
"The Dauntrey vintage, from the year his father was born.
"Twelve bottles.
"I've kept them in my cellar for this night."
Every servant on the stairs looked at the crate.
Corwin stepped forward and bowed.
"With your permission, my lord, the house tastes every gift before it reaches the duke.
"It was his late father's rule."
That was a lie.
Corwin had invented the rule eighteen months ago, and the housekeeper had been enforcing it ever since.
Hadrian's smile didn't move.
"Does the house, now."
Corwin had a footman break a seal and bring him a glass.
He drank it in front of all of them, standing in the hall, and held it in his mouth long enough to look thoughtful.
It was good wine.
It was only wine.
The poison wasn't in the bottle.
Hadrian was too careful to hand anyone something that could be tested.
"Excellent," Corwin said.
"Thank you, my lord."
"What a devoted servant," Hadrian said to the stairs, and a few of the maids smiled.
His eyes said something different.
He crossed the hall to the pantry passage and glanced back over his shoulder.
"Corwin.
"A word about the service."
The pantry was narrow and cold, and it smelled of beeswax and old silver.
Hadrian shut the door behind them.
When he turned, the kind face had gone out of his, and what was left was the face of a man counting money.
"You're late with your report," he said.
"I've had nothing to report, my lord.
"His Grace sleeps in his study.
"He speaks to no one."
"He spoke to you last night."
Corwin's stomach dropped.
"He keeps me close, my lord, the way a man keeps a clock."
"Hm."
Hadrian took a small glass vial from his coat.
It was the size of a little finger, stoppered with wax.
Corwin knew what was in it before Hadrian pushed it into his gloved hand.
"Ten drops," Hadrian said, "in the third glass from the left, on the tray, before the toast.
"Nothing in the wine.
"Nothing in the bottle.
"Nothing to find."
Corwin turned the vial in his fingers.
The liquid was clear as water.
The book had said foxglove.
He held the vial under his nose and caught a sharp bitter smell that was nothing like foxglove.
It was aconite, also called wolfsbane.
The book had been wrong about the poison, and it was the first time Corwin had ever caught it being wrong.
He set that thought aside to think about later.
"You'll be a rich man by morning," Hadrian said.
"The third glass, Corwin.
"As always."
"As always, my lord," Corwin said.
Hadrian patted his shoulder, opened the pantry door, and walked out humming.
Corwin stood in the cold with ten drops of death in his hand.
Then he heard a floorboard creak behind him.
Leander was standing on the back stair above the pantry door, in his shirtsleeves, with one hand on the rail.
The door had been open a crack the entire time.
His face was white and perfectly still.
"As always, Corwin?" he said.
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