Page 11 of In Service to the Duke

But then, this is not my household, and I cannot imposition either the dowager duchess or the duke if this turns out to only be a plague of conscience. Glancing about, I make sure I’m truly alone before lifting my skirts. Just the very feel of the fabric scraping against my skin makes me quiver as the infernal pulsing becomes almost too much to bear.

A soft moan hovers on my lips as I dip my fingers lower, touching that place forbidden to me. Only now, there is no mother hovering around, prattling on about the sins of the flesh. Blackport touched me there, and nothing happened.

The ground did not open up and swallow me whole. Flames did not spurt out, engulfing me. Perhaps she is wrong then? As my fingertip glides across some swollen part of me, my moan becomes louder, far more wanton and needy than I ever thought my voice could sound.

Jerking my hand away, I drop my skirts as if I’ve been burned. Though hellfire did not rise to consume me, it might as well have. The pleasure which coursed through my body is dangerous, and certainly nothing to explore this close to breakfast.

I dab my cheeks again, desperate to rid myself of the incriminating blush. After making sure I’ve put myself to rights, I head out to where the rest of the family is no doubt already dining. Normally, heading toward the breakfast parlor puts me in a rather jolly mood, but today, dread infuses my limbs, making them drag as I force myself out of the room and down the hall.

Already the merry voices of my wards drift toward me, tinkling about as they regale the duke with our activities. Unfortunately, since settling in, not much has been accomplished by way of instruction. As much as I’ve advocated for beginning their lessons, there always seemed to be something which got in the way.

Granted, most of the time, I was also looking in on the dowager duchess, but for some reason, I don’t think Blackport will see that as a proper excuse. As I dip into the room, all chatter stops as their eyes slide over to me. Blackport, Of course, carries his scowl as if it’s a part of his attire. Though, if I’m being honest with myself, it makes quite the dashing accessory.

Again, that horrid dampness gathers between my thighs, making my body burn and my cheeks flush. Glancing up at the intimidating Alpha, I watch as he scents the air, his eyes darkening as they bore into my soul. Somehow, he must know the effect he has on me. I hate that he seems to know more about me than I do.

It’s irritating to have not only a man, but a veritable stranger be able to read my moods and needs as clearly as if they were written on a piece of parchment and tossed in front of him. Clearing my throat, I smile at the girls and help myself to a bit of breakfast. Unfortunately, though everything looks absolutely mouth-watering, I find I cannot eat it.

The warmed chocolate from this morning resides heavy in my stomach as I sit next to Lady Elizabeth. She smiles up at me, a far cry from the ill-tempered brother resigned to stay across from us. Gracing her with a small smile of my own, I go about preparing my food and instructing her on how to do the same.

Next to her, Lady Margaret needs no instruction. In truth, I’m unsure as to why I am even here to assist her in the first place. Being only four years younger than I, she seems well prepared to meet the marriage mart as is.

The table descends into silence as we eat, and I force myself to pick at my food. Blackport watches me with such intensity, it causes me to squirm a bit in my chair. Thankfully, the whole affair is a come and go as you please type arrangement, so as soon as the girls are done, they look to me for instruction, distracting me from the maddening male across from me.

“Remember, Master Alfonso will be here shortly to go through your dancing lessons. Prepare for him in the interim.”

At my words, Blackport snorts, the sound very unseemly. Irritation rolls down my spine as he attempts to cover up the chortle with a piece of bread he pops inside his mouth, but it’s far too little too late. Everyone at the table hears him.

Margaret furrows her brows as she looks over and rises, standing at her full height. “Brother,” she scolds in a way which would be comical were he not the duke of this house. “That is not an appropriate way to express displeasure at either a breakfast table or in front of ladies.” She glances over at me as if to see if I will agree with her assessment.

Giving her a nod, I slide my gaze over to Blackport, preening silently as he glowers at me. “Very well articulated, Lady Margaret,” I agree, smothering a laugh at his disgruntled expression. “I’m sure His Grace understands that his behavior is not one of a gentleman, but instead of one a bit more common born.”

This time, it is Lady Margaret’s turn to preen, but she doesn’t keep it on the inside. Instead, she looks just as proud as a peacock as she dips into a mock curtsey and flounces out of the room. Lady Elizabeth is soon to follow, doing her best to mimic her older sister.

“This is the education you’re giving my sisters,” he growls, picking up his cup and glaring at me from over the rim.

“It is but one facet, yes, Your Grace. Am I mistaken in my tutelage? Is it, in fact, proper to behave in such a plebeian fashion? Especially around impressionable young ladies?”

He leans forward, his eyes nearly black as he glowers, the acrid stench of his anger filling the confines of the room. “Were you not mere minutes ago, just at the mercy of my own brand of tutelage?”

For a moment, fear infuses my limbs as I look around, noting the servants milling about as they clear the remaining food. If anything in his speech alerts them of his misdeeds, they show no sign of being scandalized. That is, at least in this instance, a boon. Either that, or he’s so fond of disciplining others, they pay him no mind.

Either way, he dances far too close to a truth which can put my future in grave danger. It enrages me he would play with my sanctity so carelessly. Between the two of us, I stand to lose far more than he. It’s one thing for me to trap him, but it’s entirely out of the question for him to threaten me.

“Your harsh words did not go amiss, Your Grace,” I call out, ensuring the servants hear me.

This way, if they decide to tell tales, I have already spun this falsehood into truth. As long as the duke does not refute me in front of them, I’ll remain blameless, pure as the freshly driven snow. Raising my eyebrow, I dare the Alpha to trap us.

If he’s forced to marry me because he’s incapable of being discreet, then it’s no injury to me. In fact, it’s exactly what my mother has demanded of me. As loath as I am to give into her request, it will be his fault and not mine. He stands far more to lose with his waggling tongue.

As if he senses the direction of my thoughts, his eyes narrow as he leans back, studying me before he speaks. “You should be grateful my words were the only thing to pierce you. I’ve heard stories of far worse at the hands of butlers. Why, in fact, I’m sure he has some birching rods if you’re in need of further correction, Miss Gillet.”

The way he emphasizes the word miss, to show me how my parentage is lacking in his eyes, cuts into my soul. Refusing to let the hurt show, I sit up a bit straighter and toss my head back. Let him bully me. I will not be the first to back down.

Besides, now that the humiliation of his punishment and inspection are slowly waning, I feel the intense need to assure him I am not merely that timid girl he had the pleasure of disciplining. If he chooses to antagonize me in public, I will have no choice but to defend myself. It’s only right, seeing as I must be able to maintain some bit of authority over the girls. I cannot allow him to completely undermine me.

“I am sure that will be unnecessary, Your Grace. I have well learned my lesson. Once taught, I will not forget.”

He bares his teeth as he gives me a wolfish smile. “Oh, I do not doubt that. What I do have reservations about is whether or not you’ll manage to keep yourself out of new scrapes.” Clearing his throat, he takes a sip of his coffee. “Tell me. Why is it that Master Alfonso is teaching the girls to dance and not you? Are you not as qualified as you duped my mother into thinking you were?”