Page 48 of In Service to the Duke

EMMA

TWO WEEKS LATER

I force my eyes open and glare at the rising sun dripping into my room from the small slit in the curtains. It has no business being this bright this early. My skull throbs a touch as I roll over, pulling the blankets over my head.

Though I’m determined to go back to sleep, it eludes me. With the covers smothering me, everything feels hot, stifling, even. However, when I toss them off, the sun is just far too much. The last time I felt like this was after waking up from a laudanum-induced sleep.

But I never took anything. If someone laced my drink, I should have tasted it. Granted, I’m not a laudanum expert by any means, but the two times I’ve had it, it was nearly too bitter to choke down. Even the chocolate couldn’t block out the horrid taste.

I’m sure I didn’t imbibe too much port either. The girls in my care look to me, and what sort of governess would I be if I allowed myself to become addlepated? What’s more unnerving is the fact that I feel so wretched, and yet, I didn’t have any dark dreams to accompany the sick feeling bubbling in my stomach.

In fact, since the last one, my dreams have been nearly unbearably blank. Swirling mists of nothing lull me to sleep. Not that I wish to continue dreaming of a dark devil, but deep down, I knew it was merely a substitute for Blackport. Frustration zips down my spine, nearly bowing me up as I glance over at my desk.

The dim light is not nearly dark enough for me to ignore the scraps of paper littered there. So many letters I’ve started and stopped, still unsure of what to do. On the one hand, I know I cannot marry Blackport. On the other hand, I don’t want to trap another duke either.

The conundrum eats at me, driving that need to expel my guilt by way of Blackport’s stern hand. But since that day, he hasn’t granted me time to even greet him, much less take me over his knee. Reaching under the covers, I run my hand over my backside, feeling the smooth skin pebble under my touch.

I didn’t realize I’d miss it this much. Should I just put my pride aside and say yes? Would he even want me now? Closing my eyes, I conjure up the dowager duchess.

What would she say about all of this? Even as a governess, she had her happy ending. From the paintings I’ve seen of them and the way she lights up when talking about him, theirs was truly a great love. How can she have a son who’s so blind to such a notion?

Honestly, in many ways, it hurts far worse. Knowing he had such an upbringing filled with love and warmth, and yet, being so ambivalent as to toss the phrase ‘I love you,’ about as if it’s just commonly said and means nothing, cuts me to the core. Perhaps it’s because I was never afforded such congenial luxuries that I crave it so much.

Either way, it’s a done deal. At least, that’s how Blackport appears to me. He no longer resides in any room I’m in. We share no words unless absolutely necessary. It feels as if our interactions are one step above the cut directly. Anything more or less would be looked upon with suspicion by staff and family alike.

Wrapping my arms around my waist, I burrow deeper into the covers, not wishing to start the day. Unfortunately, the unbearable heat creeps up my neck, making sweat gather at my nape. It’s still far too mild for me to be this warm. Placing a hand on my cheek, I note how flush I feel.

It would make sense that all this worry is making me ill. Throwing off my covers, I rise and stretch before walking back and forth as my mind whirls. I don’t want to leave and yet I don’t want to remain a prisoner in a house where I’m clearly not wanted.

I escaped one gaoler only to find myself at the mercy of another. Granted, Blackport is far more handsome than my mother, but the result is still the same. Then why can’t I just leave? Sitting down at the small desk, I look at the various papers strewn about, an odd sensation churning in the pit of my stomach.

Far too messy. I’m not even sure how I allowed it to get this way. And yet, the more I tidy, the worse it becomes. Eventually, I stack them all together and fold them as one before shoving them with the letters from my mother. More than likely, I just can’t bear to think about it right now.

The sunlight streams in stronger as the sun rises, compelling me to wrench the curtains open and bask in the warm rays. Somehow, this isn’t quite as stifling. It’s as if I can breathe, even if only for a few moments.

Before too long, the maid comes in to prepare me for my morning chocolate. After I’m decent for company, the butler and housekeeper join us for the daily ritual involving my suppressants. Honestly, if it wasn’t so blasphemous, I’d close my eyes and stick out my tongue, taking the small, white pill into me as if it were the Eucharist.

With the way they hover over me, ensuring I swallow it, it might as well be the same. They hold this daily ceremony as sacrosanct as taking in the blood and body of Christ, anyway. The only difference I can see is the lack of clergy to guide us.

Swallowing, I part my lips, humiliation sitting heavy in my gut as he peers into my mouth before giving a soft harrumph of approval. What would happen if I refused? Would they make the choice for me and send me on my way?

A slight pang zips through my heart at that thought. If I am to leave, I would like it to be on my own terms and not on theirs. Goodness knows they’ve already dictated so much. Glancing outside, I feel an odd sense of longing. Perhaps a spot of air is what I need to clear my head.

It’s been far too long since I’ve allowed myself to traipse about outdoors. I was too frightened of my potential reaction if I ran into Blackport astride his massive stallion. But as the weeks have gone by, it’s as if my heart grows numb. Perhaps now I can handle a collision.

But deep down, I know that’s a lie. It’s been two weeks since I’ve felt his hand on me, punishing me as I deserve. Even now, my body aches, almost hurting, with how much I want him to deliver that peace only he can provide.

However, it’s not to be. I managed to escape, trapping us once. I can’t even hope I’ll be able to do it again. Still though, I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge. If I’m going to stay here for the girls’ sake, then I will eventually need to learn how to interact with him.

Determined to continue on without him enveloping every thought, I slip into my morning dress and pull my redingote tightly around me. The wind is still chilly outside, and the last thing I need is some romantic interaction where I become ‘deathly ill’, and he has to nurse me back to health.

As much as the idea of being wrapped in his warm, strong arms sounds appealing, I would never be able to keep my resolve. Setting a brisk pace, I exit the estate and begin my walk around the grounds. Breathing in the cool, crisp air brings a peace to my heart, settling my jangled nerves.

Despite the cold, however, heat threatens to suffocate me. The dress feels far too tight, and the coat is far too warm. Groaning, I pause by a tree and catch my breath. Perhaps it’s just been far too long since I’ve been this vigorous.

It certainly explains why I can’t seem to breathe with an ease normally afforded to me. More than that, each inhale seems to be laced with that maddening scent of pine and honeysuckle. However, it’s not the season for the delicate flowers to bloom. They shouldn’t be fragrant for another several months yet.

Still though, I creep through the trees, seeking out the scent. It’s not unheard of to have early bloomers. And yet, part of me knows it can’t be the flowers. It’s too strong and spicy.