Page 29 of In Service to the Duke

My imagination is well enough for me to picture her stripped bare, her body made golden by the sunlight. Red stripes crisscross those glorious mounds of flesh as she giggles softly at what I plan to do to her next. My cock strains against the fabric of my breeches, nearly robbing me of thought.

A hard jab interrupts my thoughts, dragging it back to my insistent sister. She sits there, looking every inch the cat who got a bit of cream. Her lips thin into a knowing smile, and yet, I know for certain she has no earthly idea what goes on inside my mind.

“It is rather rude to stare at a lady,” she chides, sitting up in some show of being prim and proper.

“And it is rude to speak of topics which worry your sister. Breakfast table or no.” Just like that, the haughty attitude drops as she hunches down, sullen in her seat.

“Just because you do not wish to discuss such matters does not make it a rude topic of conversation. How am I to know anything if everyone keeps things from me?”

A weary sigh drifts from my lips as I rub my hand across my brow. I shouldn’t be here having this conversation with my sister. I should be talking to Mother and taking leave of this house before the madness overtakes me.

“What exactly do you wish to discuss?”

“When a man kidnaps a woman, for what purpose is it? Does he plan on doing something untoward? If so, what? What is it that happens between a man and woman that is guarded like a royal secret?”

I shake my head, determined to not have this line of inquiry heaved upon me. “It is not my place to tell you such things. Perhaps M-”

“No,” she cries out, slamming her napkin against the table. “She will not. Mother tells me nothing. No one tells me anything. And that governess simply blushes and changes the subject. I am an adult and have a right to be privy to such things which are whispered about behind hands and fans.”

Anger tinges my vision as Margaret vacillates between a little girl getting into muddy scrapes and the near woman she purports to be. “I will not tell you anything which can cause your romantic little mind to take flight. You’re already drifting about these halls like a damned wraith, going on about being kidnapped. You’re scaring your sister. And for what?”

Tears glisten in her eyes, slamming me in the heart. “Dear heart,” I murmur, reaching out to her. “It was never my intention to lash out at you, but some things just aren’t fit conversation-”

She cuts me off, yanking her hand away from mine. “You’re such a- such a- argh.” Her screech of rage causes Elizabeth to cower next to me, burying her head in my side. “If only I were a man like you and could curse toward a woman whenever I felt like it. But no. I am constrained, forced to be this porcelain doll, and for what?

“Maggie,” I plead, again reaching out my hand.

But she rebuffs it. “I hope I do get kidnapped. Maybe the man will be far kinder than you and answer my questions without flying into a rage.”

Before I can respond, she flounces out of the room, leaving me with just the servants and a pitiful, shivering Elizabeth. Gathering her into my arms, I lay her head against my chest and purr, rocking her back and forth until she finally calms down. She blinks up at me, her doe-brown eyes shining with tears.

“Is she really going to get kidnapped?”

With a soft chuckle, I hug her to me again. “No, my sweet sister. Margaret is just feeling distraught. But she’ll soon come around.”

“But I like it here. What is there to be distraught about?”

I bite my tongue, not wishing to lie to her, but also knowing it’s not my place to explain how women develop. Pushing her further down my knee so she can look up at me, I give her a warm smile.

“You know how you enjoy finding nooks and crannies to hide in while you read your stories?” She nods vigorously, her lips quirking up into a smile at the very thought. “Your sister is your opposite in that way.”

“Oh.” And just like that, she’s crestfallen once more.

“It’s not that your way isn’t good. You just prefer calmness and simplicity. You take after Father that way. Margaret is very much like Mother. She’s always wishing for excitement and adventure.”

Again, that unease settles into my heart as I conjure her weak and frail body wasting away in that bed. As much as I want to leave, I find I cannot abandon her in this time of need. More than that, I cannot leave my sisters all alone in this house with death imminent. Hell and damnation, but I am trapped.

I stare down at my youngest sister. Her face is so much like Mother’s. Even now, I long to hold her close, to squeeze her tightly and never let her go. Unfortunately, to show even the slightest hint of weakness might alert Elizabeth that things are far more dire than we’ve been letting on.

So far, we’ve managed to keep both of my sisters in the dark concerning Mother’s condition, but soon, that might not be an option. Nodding, I slide her off my lap and stand. Truthfully, having her atop my legs in such a fashion at her age is nearly unheard of, but I couldn’t deny her a little bit of comfort.

“Come now, I’m sure you have lessons planned for today. What is to be on the docket?”

My normally studious sister crinkles her nose in a show of disgust. “French.”

Throwing my head back, I laugh, the throaty sound a bit forced and rusty. “Is it the country or the language you take umbrage with?”

“I’m afraid my pronunciations leave a bit to be desired.”