Page 39 of In Service to the Duke

Do I dare press him while he’s like this? Honestly, it might be the best time. Clutching my plate closer to me, I turn and make my way, my body trembling with each step I take.

As I get closer, I come up to him and lower my lashes, looking every inch the demure debutant set to entice a member of the nobility. Though he would not notice me at the various parties and balls, he’ll certainly notice me now.

“Good morning, Your Grace. I trust you slept well?”

Before he can answer, I step forward again, ‘tripping’ over nothing. The plate sails from my fingers, sending the jam-covered biscuit flying, landing against the front of his breeches. Neither of us says a word as I watch the gooey mess coating him.

In an instant, the atmosphere changes. Heat surges off of him, engulfing me until I can barely breathe. It’s not anger exactly. More like a promise of retribution. But this is exactly what I wanted. Why, now faced with his just ire, do I wilt away?

“Forgive me, Your Grace. I-”

He cups my elbow, drawing me in close so no one else can hear what he says to me. “My study. Now.”

As if touching me burns him, he drops my limb and strides past. No doubt the servants think he’s going to his chambers to get clean and changed, but I know better. I stand there, shaking like a leaf tossed about in a torrent, unable to move.

The growl in his tone was far harsher than usual. As much as I wanted to earn his disciplining hand, I didn’t wish to incur his fierce wrath. Servants buzz about me, cleaning the floor and taking the plate from my hands.

I stand there, refusing to move. I can’t leave just yet. It would make things far more suspicious than my earlier actions. And so, I stand there completely out of place as the floor is cleaned to a shine. Another servant hands me a different plate and slinks again into the background.

Should I get more breakfast? It would certainly take wandering minds away from the events which just unfolded. I know Blackport wanted me in his study right away, but he couldn’t have meant in that instant. And so, I grab another biscuit and some meat and sit as if I hadn’t soiled the duke so.

I gather another bit of jam and cream and nibble on my food. My appetite is gone at this point, but I must put on a show for everyone else. Again, I look around, concerned as to the whereabouts of the girls. With as much enthusiasm as they normally attack their food in the morning, it’s surprising they aren’t here.

“Where are Lady Margaret and Lady Elizabeth this morning? I hope they are not ill?”

“They’re taking their morning meal with their mother. Shall I fetch them for you?” A servant replies, not leaving her post.

That niggle of guilt which constantly gnaws at my stomach flares up in full force. I don’t dare take them away from her. Not when she’s been doing so poorly.

“No, thank you,” I reply, not wishing for her to trouble them.

And so, I eat in silence, caring nothing about the time as my mind drifts.

Eventually, I find I’m unable to put off this clandestine meeting any longer. Dabbing at my lips, I rise from the table and exit the room, my knees quaking as liquid gathers at the apex of my thighs. The sooner I face him, the sooner I can breathe again.

I traverse the halls, keeping my steps nearly silent as I make my way to his study. By this time, I’m sure I can find it even if I were deaf and blind. Something holds me back, however, as I near his door.

Instead of meeting him as he commanded, I study a nearby statue, taking in the expert craftsmanship. The pale marble almost glows under the rays of the sun. I long to reach out and touch it, but I do not dare.

I’m arrested by the expression on the woman’s face. It’s scared, mirroring her body reaching out in flight. The man behind caresses her, wrapping his arm around as if to drag her to him. Unbidden, my dreams come back into my mind.

Only, I wasn’t scared or horrified. I should have been. I should have run far away from this house and never looked back. But even in the midst of intense heat, I felt safe, wanted, and desired. I was no longer the insignificant omega my mother claimed I was.

For those brief moments, I was wanton, a woman who could actually entice someone as mighty as a duke. Not just any duke—Blackport. I’m so entranced by this piece of art that I miss the soft footsteps coming up behind me.

It’s not until his potent scent swirls around my head that I realize the duke in question is right behind me. The heat emanating from his body scalds me, warming me from the inside out. I want nothing more than to turn and bury myself in his arms, allowing him to take the burden for a little while.

“Are you familiar with this piece?” The question, though innocent enough, feels like a trap.

Would answering incorrectly show him I’m not nearly as skilled as I should be for this occupation? Or is he merely wishing to show off his knowledge to me, lording it over how intelligent or cultured he is? Again, I look at the piece, but this time, I try not to study the feelings it evokes and more searching for clues as to its origin.

Just like my French, art and architecture are other areas in which I failed miserably. Will he have the same sort of visceral reaction when he learns I’m not skilled in this arena? It’s not as if his sisters are lacking.

Since I’m able to read just as well as anyone with my education, I’m able to quiz them and school them from the books provided. Just because I cannot seem to retain anything other than that which truly interests me doesn't make me unfit to be their finishing governess.

“I’m waiting, Miss Gillet,” he murmurs, his lips so close to my ear and I feel his breath fan my face.

It scatters my thoughts. Leaving my mind blank. I have to find a way to salvage this, to show him I’m not an imbecile. Turning, I flash him a bright smile.