Page 4 of In Service to the Duke

I guess it’s time I resume my duties. My mind need not wander anymore about what can or should be. I am a finishing governess, after all. Despite my mother’s meddling, I will be nothing more and nothing less.

Once I allow entrance, it’s a flurry of movement. Warming chocolate awaits me as I slip into my dressing gown and sit in front of the large window overlooking the estate. It’s obvious why my mother wishes for me to set my cap at the duke.

This place is a far cry from the small, cozy cottage in which she and my father now reside. If I could give her a place this grand, I would. But I know with my station, it is impossible.

Much like seducing the duke. From what little I saw of him during the exhilarating carriage ride to Whitmore Manor, he certainly seems to be a fine specimen. He does seem a bit uptight, but what firstborn isn’t?

Sipping on my chocolate, I peer out of the window, taking in the breathtaking beauty of the country, allowing it to settle my nerves. Unfortunately, instead of frost-laden grounds and swaying green branches, all I can see is Blackport’s piercing sapphire eyes drilling into me as he peered through the carriage window.

My heart pounds in my chest as my maid shuffles about, preparing my clothes for the morning. Can she hear it? As if to stifle the supposed sound, I lift my hand to my chest and hold it there, forcing my breathing to come in slow, measured inhalations and exhalations.

It takes several moments, but eventually, the rapid staccato lessens to a more normal cadence. Unfortunately, once I’m finally righted within myself, another knock threatens my calm. It’s the butler.

He strides in, housekeeper in tow. The small bottle of pills in his hands makes stomach clinch. It’s rather embarrassing having him watch me with such intensity, but it’s a requirement of the position. Taking the suppressant from him, I drink it down with some of the warmed chocolate and open my mouth.

A detached air swirls around him as he peers deep within, only speaking to have me lift my tongue and move it side to side. Once satisfied that I’ve taken it, he turns on his heel and walks out the door, followed closely by the housekeeper.

Unshed tears threaten to clog my throat as I take the warm cup in my hands and continue to sip it. The chocolate warms my spirits until I can breathe without wishing to dissolve in a fit of crying. Once I have regained my wits, I continue with the day, ready to put such humiliation behind me.

With a soft smile, I place the cup down onto the small table and allow the maid to assist me in getting dressed. Though no one has said a word to me, I’m still concerned they will see through my actions and know why I’m truly here. Worry continues to niggle at my brain as I step into my shift and allow her to bind my stays.

So far, the household has been far more preoccupied with the health of the dowager duchess to pay me any mind, and that’s exactly how I prefer it. However, now that a physician sees her regularly, I am forced to face the task I was hired to do—prepare the younger girls for their coming out.

When asked about my experience, I didn’t lie. I merely answered the butler’s questions in a way where he may think me far more affluent than I really am. Crossing my arms in front, I rub my hands up and down the limbs to bring heat back to the area. Though the room is sufficiently warm, I feel as if I’m made of ice.

For now, the girls see me as some ethereal goddess, a woman who will help make their dreams come true. But I’m not sure I possess every skill they might need. Their butler is of the misapprehension that I am twenty years of age, far high enough to have a decent knowledge of how things are in court.

Though, at eighteen, I’m old enough to be married, I am not nearly as practiced as they may hope. I can only trust in my abilities and pray that I am not discovered. What could happen then? Would I be thrust out on the street and tasked with finding my own way home?

Surely the duke would not be so cruel as to inflict such treatment upon me. Though I am not a member of the peerage, I’m still the daughter of a more affluent lord. He may be without funds, but our name should still carry me far.

At least, I hope it does. I am still not entirely knowledgeable of how that works, and Papa refuses to enlighten me. If he knew what Mother planned… Again, my heart picks up speed, this time alerting my maid to my distress. She puts her hand against mine and squeezes, looking up at me in concern.

“Do not trouble yourself. I merely wonder at the condition of the dowager duchess. Is she well?”

At this, the maid’s eyes turn sad as she looks to the floor. “I saw her just this morning, Miss, as I brought in some chocolate to drive away the chill. She seems so small amidst all the blankets. I worry about her too, Miss.” An odd expression crosses her face as she leans down and covers her mouth with her fingers.

Her soft sniffles tug at my heart. If anything, the other staff love this woman dearly. It endears me to her all the more. Were that my mother so deserving of such affections.

Unfortunately, with her sour attitude and demanding ways, I’ll be the only one to miss her once she’s gone. However, I know without any uncertainty it will not be any time soon. God may be just and loving, but not enough to put an end to the oppressive shadows she casts over the entire house. Even engulfing my father.

She’s nothing like the dowager duchess. Station has nothing to do with it. The difference lies in the fact that I would give almost anything to call this other woman Mother while eschewing the one who birthed me. Just one kind word from the dowager duchess, and I only want to curl up at her feet and bask in the praise dripping from her lips.

The mutinous thoughts eat at me until I’m nearly consumed. But such ways lie madness. Pushing aside my own fears, worries, and petty jealousies, I concentrate on being the absolutely best finishing governess I can be for this family.

The girls seem bright enough that perhaps all I’ll need to do is observe as they go through their lessons. Closing my eyes, I allow a small prayer to drift up to the heavens for this to be the case. The last thing anyone in this household should learn is just how horrendous my French is.

Thankfully, no exam was given, and no thorough review of my knowledge forced me to reveal my shortcomings. They seem most interested in my family as well as my purity. They needn’t worry about that point. Not one man, Alpha or beta, has seen fit to even look in my direction when attending the few balls I was allowed.

Not that I fear I’m unfortunate to look at, but my lack of wealth precluded me from further scrutiny. Pain blossoms behind my breastbone as I watch the maid gathering my hair in the mirror. By lack of fortune, I find myself in such a state. If only a pretty smile and sparkling eyes were worth more than coin.

Once everything is done, I pull my redingote around me and make my way down to the main door. Every morning, as I’ve always done, I take a brisk walk around the grounds. Granted, I find I’m more exhausted by the end than I ever was at home.

It clears my head, allowing me to puzzle through my course of the day. Unfortunately, I’m no closer to figuring out what I’m going to do when a loud whinny scatters my thoughts. Terror floods my system, rooting me to the spot.

Despite the loud, masculine roar ordering me to move, I find I cannot. I’m frozen, unable to even utter a shriek. I watch, helpless, as hooves paw at the air, perilously close to my face.

“Hunter,” the voice cries out. “Calm!”