Page 18 of In Service to the Duke

His eyes are molten, so dark blue they’re almost black. I’ve never seen such a shade. Even if I were the world’s most renowned poet, I don’t believe I could ever capture their likeness in words. It does something to me, bringing more heat to my face, but also much lower.

It seems as if whenever I’m around him, my body acts this way. It lends credence to his earlier statement that I am not injured. My malady is tied to him and him alone. What does this mean?

Before I can formulate another thought, he reaches out and grazes my cheek. His touch sizzles through me like lightning racing across the Thames. My knees buckle, threatening to send me crashing to the floor. But his powerful arms are there, holding me up in his firm grasp.

Some unholy spell weaves around us as he leans forward, his lips so close to mine. I can feel the heat of his breath as it fans across my face. Closing my eyes, I brace myself for the inevitable. And, sure enough, he pulls away, leaving me bereft once more.

It cannot be. It can never be. A duke and a governess, though not unheard of, is best left in the realm of fairy tales. With a sigh, I pull away and give him another curtsy. It’s best I leave before I make a mockery of myself in front of him.

“Mark my words, little governess,” he growls behind me. “You will find sitting to be a touch uncomfortable the next day or so. Do take care to school your expressions unless you want others to know just what I did to you.”

I clench my hands into fists by my side, tempering my tongue before I find myself over his lap again. Turning, I glare at him, refusing to speak. At least, not until I have my words under my control again.

“I assure you, Your Grace, I will put on a performance like none other.”

“Good,” he murmurs, running his thumb over his bottom lip. “I’d hate to have to discipline you again because you cannot contain yourself.”

Something in the way he says that makes my body clench with need. “That will never happen.”

“We shall see.” This time, the smile he gives me is predatory, like a wolf about to devour a lamb.

Heat pours through my body like liquid fire as he pushes past to observe the end of his sister’s dance lessons. Though I’m usually there in attendance, learning what I can in case there are questions later, I find I need to be alone with my thoughts.

I cannot come to them in such a state. Racing toward my room, I slam the door behind me and make my way over to the mirror. As I lift my skirts, my breath catches in a horrified gasp. My entire backside is red and swollen, throbbing almost as I touch it.

Instead of agony, however, each press of my fingers brings more of that liquid warmth gathering at the apex of my thighs. Dropping my skirts as if my fingers have been singed, I glance about the room. Even with the door closed, I feel exposed, vulnerable.

Any exploration I wish to do of my person will certainly be caught if someone walks inside. How can I explain any of this to them? And if I were to lock the door… that might certainly bring more questions than answers. Pacing in front of the large tapestry near the mirror, I contemplate my options.

Earlier, when I first arrived, I found this secret entrance. Quite by accident, in fact. The tapestry looked so beautiful as it hung there. All I wanted was a touch. But when I felt the odd lumps underneath, I needed to assure myself the wood was not rotten.

Instead of finding gaps where mold and dampness ate away at it, I found something far more spectacular. Though, I shouldn’t have been awestruck as I was. What good is having an estate with no secret passages winding about? The fact that it is attached to my room, however, is what gives me pause.

Was there a need for earlier governess to run away? Did the master of the house want access to this room? The delicious, scandalous thoughts which whirred about never let go. They merely resided in the background as an incessant buzzing.

Granted, I’m still not sure of the exact room it empties into, so all these thoughts could be conjecture. Perhaps it’s innocent enough and allows the governesses to come and go out of the estate without being bothered. And honestly, what I could really use is a breath of fresh air untainted by Blackport.

With that thought in mind, it seems as good a time as any to explore further. The girls should be occupied for a good long while, and with the duke in attendance, no one will miss me. Just in case, however, I step out into the hall and flag down a maid.

“Please express my apologies to both the duke and his sisters. I fear my head is quite aching. I need to lie down for just a small bit. I’ll be back to rights by luncheon.”

“Yes, Miss,” she intones with a quick bob.

Breathing out in relief, I close the door behind me, giddy as I grab a lamp and light it. At first, all I wanted to do was explore my body, to touch myself with no one being the wiser. But exploring the rest of this tunnel, going past the tentative steps I’ve taken when first arriving, feels a bit safer of an endeavor.

This is just what I need to distract myself from doing something I oughtn’t. Granted, if I’m being honest with myself, exploring someone else’s home without their knowledge isn’t all that good either. At least this way, no one can catch me doing something which will ruin me.

If I can keep my mind occupied, I won’t have time to touch myself in a way I shouldn’t. Though I pray no one catches me in these tunnels, if they do, I can say I got lost, turned around, anything plausible. Unfortunately, there is nothing I can say to save me if I’m caught with my hands up my skirts.

The flame trembles as I push the secret door open. I breathe in the dank, musky scent, laden with dust and age. With each inhale, I push out the duke’s maddening scent, allowing me to think clearer. The need to caress myself wanes until my thoughts are rational again.

Cobwebs drape about like morbid garland festooning the ceilings, but, to my knowledge, no spiders occupy these depths. At least none that I can see scurrying about. For my peace of mind, I bring the lamp up close enough to see, but not enough for it to catch on fire. Nothing moves, allowing me to take another deep breath.

Each step is taken with precise care, ensuring I don’t injure myself. Coming up to the first bend, I stop and force myself to calm. This is the furthest I’ve gone. For some reason, there’s something which holds me back from going any further. Perhaps it’s the fear of the unknown.

The walls, though solid enough, frighten me. What if the floors give way? It’s this apprehension which coils through me, making my insides squirm. My heart pounds as I take the path as it bends to the right. Suppose the trail should split and I get lost?

I determine within myself to only go to the right. This way, I can find my way back. Cursing under my breath, I pat my sides, infuriated I didn’t think of a way to mark my path. At this point, even breadcrumbs would be somewhat useful.