Page 51 of Disciplined by the Duke
She brushed the destroyed flower into her apron, holding up the hem to cradle the fragments. “We’re done in the hall. I’m going to move to the breakfast salon.” Molly nodded in agreement, her eyes lingering on Liz’s midsection.
Throwing back her shoulders, Liz stalked down the hall. There was no way to combat the rumors that swirled around Hartsworth. She could only ignore them. The worst of it was she wouldn’t be here in a couple months’ time to show everyone she wasn’t with child. No, her new friends would continue with their happy lives at Montague’s estate, never knowing the truth, while she wasn’t allowed that luxury.
Her steps stuttered. She could notwantto remain here, a servant to Montague. Under his command. Surrounded by his demanding presence. His protection.
His rough fingers and soft lips.
Something tugged deep inside of her center.
She stared at the flowers in her apron. She had to admit she had become accustomed to her time here. Even though she was but a servant, she’d felt safer at Hartsworth than she had anywhere else in the past year. Safer, happier, more content.
While her sister remained in prison.
She started forward again, and found a container in which to dispose the flowers. She had searched Montague’s study, his private rooms, and the study of Mr. Todd. Multiple times. The letter was not in any of them. Either there was no letter, or the duke kept it on his person.
A tentacle of an idea began to coil in her mind. It was rash. Did she dare? Chewing her bottom lip, she considered the idea from all angles. It was the only way she could think to discover the missive. Just because she might enjoy it didn’t make it any less necessary.
Taking a deep breath, she made for the hidden servants’ passages.
There was only one way to get close enough to Montague to discover the letter if it was on his person. The pleasures of the previous couple days didn’t have to be relegated to mere memory. She could relive them, and feel no guilt. It would all be in service to her sister.
A shiver swept down her spine. It did no harm, she told herself firmly, that she would immensely enjoy her spy work this time.
She felt along the cold passageway, the rough stone rasping against her fingers. The duke’s hands were calloused, his touch rough, as well. Anticipation quickened her step. Wanton or not, she wanted his fingers on her skin once more.
She passed door upon door, peeking in the occasional spy hole, but found her quarry where she expected, in his study. She peered at him a moment from behind the door she had cracked open. He sat behind his desk, his back to the brilliant view of the front drive in the sunny afternoon. With brisk efficiency, he cut open an envelope with a dagger-shaped letter opener and spun the tool idly in his hand as he read.
One of his eyebrows quirked up, and he tapped the blade against his lips. Liz sucked in a quick breath. She had never thought to ascribe the term “beautiful” to a man, but beauty sat before her. The navy blue coat he wore emphasized the strength in his shoulders, the power of his chest. His full lips, so stern when in the presence of others, pursed softly as he contemplated his correspondence.
She brushed her fingers against her own lips, remembering the press of his mouth. She wanted that feeling again. But how should she handle this? Brazenly walk in and drape herself across his lap? No, he wouldn’t respond well to such recklessness. Break another of his possessions? She shifted on her feet. She didn’t think he would want her to play games.
A gust of breath huffed out of her lips. Perhaps she should merely tell him what she was feeling, what she desired. It had worked yesterday. Sometimes honesty was the best policy.
Her gaze dropped to his broad chest, as she knew his coat held interior pockets. Well, not complete honesty.
Running her hands over her hair, she took a deep breath. She needed to pull this off. If he carried that letter she needed to distract him sufficiently to lift it without his notice. Her stomach lurched as she pushed open the bookcase door more fully. It made only the barest whisper of sound as it brushed against the carpet, but the duke’s eyes snapped up and immediately focused on her.
His jaw clenched.
Liz’s step stuttered. She forced herself to press on. “Your Grace,” she murmured. She dropped the smallest of curtsies, not wanting to present herself as a servant to him, but knowing she shouldn’t presume familiarity. Hoping to glean a cue from his body language or expression on how she should act, she waited, but his face was unreadable. Tucking her palm within the folds of her skirts, she clenched her fist, keeping the emotion off of her face, as well.
“Yes, what it is?” His voice, while not outright cold, held none of the warmth she’d grown used to. If yesterday he had brought a fire to her core today he chilled her into ice.
“I, uh . . .”—her mind spun—“was hoping to speak to you about your tenants and the villagers.”
One elegant eyebrow rose. “What about my tenants?”
Yes, what about his tenants? She couldn’t believe she had caved so completely from her purpose, but any thoughts of seduction fled her mind at his cold expression.
She took a deep breath. “I don’t know if you’re aware of a custom your mother started and that was continued by your last housekeeper. They brought much-needed food and supplies to those who required it. Since your housekeeper’s passing, no one has thought to continue that aid.”
Liz had never prided herself on being particularly quick of mind, but that bit of misdirection brought her an acute sense of satisfaction. She didn’t know whether he regretted the day before or was merely uninterested in her now that he’d taken his pleasure, but she would be damned if he discovered that their interlude meant more to her than to him.
He uncoiled behind the desk and rose to his full height. “You came to me, through the old servants’ passages no less, to discuss food baskets to the poor?”
When he put it like that, her actions did seem far-fetched. But he didn’t need to make her sound ridiculous. She raised her chin. “Yes, I did. I thought it best to bring this to your attention with no one around to witness it. I did not want to be responsible for pointing out your lack of charity to others.”
His eyes narrowed to granite slits. “I see.” Circling around the mahogany desk, he stalked towards her, eyes unblinking. She willed her feet to remain planted to the floor. He stopped mere inches from her. Crossing his arms over his chest, he brushed his sleeve across the tips of her breasts, the light scrape of the wool sending a delicious chill arcing through her body.