Page 38 of In Service to the Duke

Surely, she can understand that? Leaving my chocolate to cool, I walk over to the desk and pull down the box with her letters. To the members of this household, it probably seems as if she’s a caring, doting mother. If they happened to read the contents, it would seem otherwise.

At least, that’s what I hope. Unfortunately, I understand both sides. She lashes out in fear. All she wishes is to be content, set up with a fortune which will help drag them out of the gutters they currently live in.

However, I never saw my life like that. To me, our house, even the smaller one we were forced to move to, was a haven, a respite. I cared not for the latest fashions. To me, having clothes was enough.

But even after selling off whatever possessions she could, it was never enough. For her, it will probably never be enough. I will never be enough. With that last thought, I fold up her letter and store it with the others.

Due to my supposed inaction, she threatens to change the plan again. But I don’t wish to leave. She will have to come here and force me, kicking and screaming, from these premises. Would Blackport even care enough to ask me to stay?

Certainly not if he found out why I was here in the first place. Again, the guilt eats at me, and I wish I could just come clean. Unfortunately, I fear I’m far too enmeshed at this point. Perhaps if I said something when they hired me?

But then, all I thought about was my own selfish needs and the wish to escape. It was the perfect way to get free of my mother. I just wanted to see what life was like without her constant influence.

Pulling the letter back out, I sigh. She still manages to vex me even as far away as she is. This bit of employment has done nothing to stay her hand. If only her letters could become lost and I did not have to read them.

It would be easy to just never open them, but I cannot do that in good conscience. I must know what she’s up to and what she plans. It’s the only way to stay ahead of her.

As much as I wish to write back to tell her again, I do not wish to trap the duke, I find I cannot lift quill to paper. It hurts too much. Everything is far too raw. Perhaps when I have my wits about me, I can give her a rebuttal, but for now, all I wish to do is lick my wounds.

Perhaps I can find some way to antagonize the duke. His heavy hand against my backside always quells these feelings of inadequacy and guilt. I’m far too uncomfortable and overwhelmed to think of anything else other than what he does to me.

It’s a silly notion, and yet, it’s one I cannot shake from my mind. Renewed, I surge up and walk back over to the table, emptying the rest of my chocolate. When the maid returns to finalize my dress for breakfast, I feel light and giddy in my resolve to get what I need. Blackport will find a way to remove this guilt from my heart, even though I refuse to confide in him what put it there to begin with.

CHAPTER 17

EMMA

The house is peculiarly quiet as I descend the stairs and make my way toward the breakfast room. Normally, the girls are already there, stirring Blackport up, but they seem to be absent. In some ways, this proves to be a boon for me.

As much as I like to stoke his ire, I so hate doing so in front of them. I’m supposed to be training them and leading them. How would it look for me to pick a fight just to have my backside blistered? Heat licks up my cheeks as I curtsy in front of the massive Alpha.

He scents the air, his brows furrowing as he stares into my soul. Can he see my plans as if they are laid bare? Refusing to allow his mere presence to rattle me, I glide past him, noting how his frame goes rigid. Though I’m not outwardly being rude or untoward, I’m not showing him nearly as much respect as I could.

The servants pay no mind and I load my plate up with rolls and meats, all the while pointedly ignoring His Grace. On the table, a small dish of crimson jam catches my eye. What better way to annoy him than to sully his pristine clothes?

Taking one of the rolls, I slather it thick with both jam and clotted cream, making sure to pile it high. Nearby, the duke continues to stand there, watching me with an intensity that has my toes curling. The heat coming off of him nearly shimmers, bringing to mind the delicious dream from last night.

If I squint just right, I can almost turn the golden sun streaming in behind him into a blazing inferno. It looks too correct. He looks too correct. But then, it’s not as if I dream of any other man.

No one else has ever stirred these feelings in me, and I doubt anyone else ever will. It’s what makes all this far more painful. If only Mother wasn’t after his fortune, and we were able to meet on different terms. He may not have seen me when I had my coming out, but I saw him.

Even from a couple of years ago, I knew there was something about him that called to me. But I didn’t know him at all. He was set apart, a mirage of sorts, only to be seen but never touched. I watched as he danced about with the other ladies of The Ton, his visage striking and fierce.

It frightened me to see one so stern and rigid, but it spoke to me as well. He was clearly a man who was not to be trifled with. His broad shoulders and ferocious frown spoke of a duke who valued responsibility and duty above everything else—even affection.

And so, I thrust him out of my mind, rebuking myself for even thinking I could cast an aspiring eye onto him. For what would a duke want with someone so below him? What could I offer him?

He looks so similar as he stands there, studying my every move. If I close my eyes, I can transport us to a ballroom far from here where only he and I can dance. But it’s not to be. I cannot rid my mind of my mother’s voice, and so our interactions will always be tainted.

It still does nothing to quell the need rising within me. I desperately crave his hands on my body, even if they’re causing righteous pain. The guilt curls through me, consuming every thought until I find myself struggling to breathe. It’s not just my mother, it’s the recrimination of knowing I’m using him for my own means.

Glancing back down at my breakfast, I struggle within myself. I can end this now. I can walk away and find another house to work at, somewhere not even my mother can find me. Unfortunately, I’m not strong enough.

I’ve fallen in love with this family. Even if I can never marry the duke, I can be nearby. And once the girls are prepared and ready to come out, I can see if they’ll employ me some other way. Anything to be by his side.

Anything to not have to go back home.

This time, when I look up, the duke’s gaze has changed. It’s molten, like pure fire, consuming me as our eyes lock. There’s something different about it. Electricity swirls between us, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. This time, his gaze is not just predatory, it’s nearly feral.