Page 19 of In Service to the Duke

There are no sounds of mice or vermin, so they should lead me back out without being eaten. But, alas, I have none. Keeping my free hand along the wall, I continue to walk forward for what feels like an eternity. Sounds vibrate through the walls, making my pulse quicken.

Coming to another bend, the moment I turn the corner, the sounds become far louder until I can just barely make out what it is I’m hearing. Two shafts of light stream in, alerting me to the peepholes. There, in the center of the floor, are Master Alfonso and Margaret.

Poor thing hobbles about without much grace as the duke looks on. His brows furrow in the most delectably furious manner, and just like that, the heat is back. Gripping my midsection, I watch the scene play out in front of me, unable to look away.

He tips his nose in the air, his eyes narrowing as he looks around. Can he smell me from all the way over here? His shoulders bunch as confusion flashes over his face. Striding over to a servant, he tips his head forward in muted conversation.

Are they telling him I am ill? Will he believe it? Does he even care? After a few tense moments, he straightens back up and mills the room, coming precariously close to my hiding spot. Swallowing a gasp, I pull away from the holes and press my back against the wall, pressing the heel of my hand into my breastbone.

My heart thumps against it in a rapid staccato, refusing to calm. It’s not until I hazard another glance and find him no longer in the room that I can finally breathe again. That was close. Far too close for comfort.

Wishing to quit the spot as quickly as I happened upon it, I slide my fingers across the wall as I continue my journey. The air becomes cooler as I descend further into the house, causing me to shiver. An errant part of my brain begs me to turn back around, but I’ve come too far now.

Once more, the path descends into silence. All I can hear is my breath coming in quick, haggard pants. After another length in the journey, the floor gives out from under me. Smothering a cry, I yank my foot back and lower the lamp.

A set of stairs curl downward, as if leading me to some dungeon. The shiver racing through me is partly fear but more so intrigue. What dark secrets do the Dowdings harbor in the depths of this house?

With much care, I pick my way down the steps, bracing against the wall in case they decide to crumble beneath me. It’s insanity that I keep pressing forward, but by now, my curiosity will not be satisfied until I know where this leads. Once the floor evens back out, I let out a sigh in relief.

This time, as I walk forward, I keep a better eye on the floor in front of me. A chill seeps into my bones, and in hindsight, I wish I had brought a shawl or a wrap to keep me warm. However, it’s this bit of thrill which keeps my mind away from carnal lusts and onto this new task ahead. In all honesty, I’ve almost all but forgotten why I ran away from the duke in the first place.

Just up ahead, in the flickering light, I make out what looks like a door. As with the wall, there are a set of holes, but given how dark everything is, it seems as if the room is not in use. At least, that is what I tell myself as I creep nearer.

As with the entrance in my room, cobwebs dangle about, showing it’s been a long time since this part of the passage has been used. Perhaps this is part of a closed-off wing and no one else will be brave enough to tread into these chambers. Pressing my eyes against the holes, I blink into the darkness.

No fires are lit. No windows are open. Nothing.

CHAPTER 9

EMMA

The flame trembles as air from the other room teases it. Do I dare go in? No one else seems to be here, but that doesn’t matter. This isn’t my home. Closing my eyes, I go through what I know about the house. Based on where the dancing hall was, I should be under the west wing.

Blackport’s study is in the west wing. I’d hazard an educated guess that his bedchambers are as well. Just thinking about his bedchambers sends that frisson of maddening heat up my spine. Why can’t I just stop thinking about him?

Tossing my head back, I shove all thoughts of sapphire eyes and stern lips out of my head as I feel about for the knob. The creak as I open the door is ominous, turning my lustful thoughts back into apprehension. Odd shapes and forms greet the illumination of my flames, but I cannot make sense of any of it.

For a moment, I pause at the threshold, a faint but familiar scent teasing my nose. Pine with that delicious undercurrent of honeysuckle. I should have known this space belonged to him. Granted, as the duke, every space in this estate technically belongs to him.

Stepping further into the room, I bring the lamp closer to what looks like a bed and gasp at the size of it. It’s at least double what’s currently in my room. But then, what need does a governess have for a bed this size? Is this where Blackport sleeps?

I run my fingers along the polished wood, noting the dust collecting with each swipe. Certainly not one to sleep in regularly. Either that, or the maids have become far too lax in their duties. Not that I plan on saying a word and giving my excursions away.

As much as I wanted to drive the need from my body, just his scent brings it back in force. And here, there happens to be a bed where no one will see me or find me. What harm is there in indulging in secret?

Testing the mattress with my hand, I set the lamp down on a nearby stand and sit down. It’s sumptuous but firm. Thankfully, it doesn’t smell damp or rotten, so it’s at least in good repair.

With a sigh, I recline on it, my head filling with that heady scent. Before I can stop myself, I reach down and lift my skirts, revealing my forbidden part to the air. The chill kisses my fevered skin, bringing a shuddery moan to my lips.

Parting my thighs, I allow them to fall on either side, exposing me even more. I drop my fingers down and graze the sensitive flesh, gasping as pleasure flows through my veins. This is what my mother kept from me. This is an exquisite agony long since denied me.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

I freeze, my fingers hovering over that spot Blackport nearly touched earlier today. His voice floods my brain, turning it into mush. It can’t be him. Not here. Not now.

As if I've conjured him, Blackport rises from the shadows, taking my lamp in hand. A gasp catches in my throat as he looms there, larger than life, the lighting underneath his face making him look like the devil incarnate.

I should have known better than to go exploring. It’s not as if I set out to get into trouble. It just somehow keeps happening around him. Blast it all, I wouldn’t doubt he keeps arranging these things to catch me doing something I shouldn’t.