Page 54 of In Service to the Duke

“You would do well to remember your place,” I grind out, irritated at how well she can see through me. “Though you are an Alpha, we are not equals. I do not wish to discuss such matters with you.”

Her lips quirk up into a smirk as she dips down into a curtsy. “I understand, Your Grace. Please get some rest. Jeremy will have your whip ready for you by the morning.”

* * *

The wind is cold as I make my way back home, whip in hand. Though I had wanted to stay in London a bit longer, the time away from my mother puts me on edge. It was selfish of me to go away when she was in such ill health.

With no way of them finding me, she could be gone, and I would never know it. Thankfully, Hunter and I make good time, only stopping when necessary. At this rate, I should be back in another day or so. Still, it’s far too long.

I don’t wish to push the horse to his breaking point, but the need to be back at Whitmore eats at me. It’s this gnawing at my gut which refuses to go away. Hopefully, I’m not too late.

The only other time I felt anything like this was when Father died. I was too late getting to his side, and I refuse to let that happen again. Spurring Hunter onward, I ride through the night, pushing him as hard as I can without breaking him.

Once we’re back home, I’ll be able to tend to him as he needs. But for now, I need to get back to my mother’s side. Even as the moon waxes full above me, I continue to ride, never stopping until I see the twinkling lights of home.

It’s far too late for any of my family to be awake, but the doors open for me as if the staff anticipated my arrival. As I step into the house, I take a deep breath. There’s another scent hanging heavy in the air, one which I can’t readily identify.

Thankfully, it’s not the scent of death. Glancing about, I take in the attire of the staff. None of them seem to be in mourning clothes. Perhaps my gut was wrong?

I hurry through the halls, making my way to my mother’s room. Whatever the scent is, it’s not coming from there. With a soft knock, I let myself in, needing to assure my heart she’s well.

Soft snores come from her bed, and I follow them, using the flickering firelight to guide me. She looks peaceful and well-rested. Dropping to my knees, I take her hand in mine and bring it to my forehead. I’m not too late.

She stirs, blinking up at me. “My son. Whatever is the matter?”

I reach up and stroke her head, much like she used to do to me when I was distressed as a child. “Nothing. Just happy you’re well.”

Her eyes widen a touch before she turns and coughs. Sorrow lances my heart as I kneel there, helpless. I might have made it this time, but I certainly can’t leave again. Not until she passes from this world.

Handing her a cup of water, I watch as she drinks it, my soul heavy. How selfish was I to leave in the first place? First thing tomorrow, I will thrust Miss Gillet out of my mind and concentrate on my family.

No woman should have enough power over me to risk not being here in my mother’s time of need. I feel ashamed that I even allowed her to drive me from my own home. Come tomorrow, I will lay down the law with our governess.

If she cannot abide by my rules, it won’t just be my hand on her upturned arse. I will cast her out and make her someone else’s problem. But even that doesn’t feel like the proper solution.

As much as she vexes me, I don’t want her anywhere else but by my side. Perhaps I’ll have to give in and straddle between the duties of a duke and the carnal needs of a man.

My only prayer is we both come out of this unscathed.

CHAPTER 24

ROBERT

My cock aches as I rouse myself up. Though my stomach tells me it’s time for breakfast, my body wishes to stay in bed. Reaching beneath the sheets, I grip my shaft, trying desperately to hold on to the remnants of the dream drifting off into the ether.

If only dreams come true. It was such a lovely thought and a delicious sentiment. Tears prick my eyes as I pull away, not wishing to touch myself while thinking of my family.

In my dream, Mother was well. She and my sisters celebrated my nuptials with an abandon that would never cease to put a smile on my lips. Mother, most of all, was up front and present.

No longer was she frail and near death. Instead, she was as healthy as she had been before being laid low by her coughing malady. No one has mentioned the dreaded word consumption, and yet, in my heart, it’s the only thing which makes sense.

Even with the doctor’s continued care, she seems to be in this state of unrest, a plateau in her health. She never recovers but doesn’t seem to be getting any worse. And that, to me, is what makes everything far more horrendous. If only she’d change.

Granted, I’d rather it be for the better. No son wishes to lose their mother. And yet, on the other hand, part of me wishes she’d just find peace. Her coughing and hacking night and day haunts me, fills my dreams until they’re nightmares.

I suppose it’s selfish to wish death upon her. Though it would ease her pain instantly, it would also rid me of the guilt I carry each time I see her. But that’s not a healthy way to think of these matters. Then and there, I determine to spend more time with her. What little time we have left should be filled with joy and merriment.

Unfortunately, that means I must thrust the issue with the governess aside so I can focus solely on my family. I know Mother wished to see me married, but unlike the dream, such unions are not so simple. If only it were. Then Miss Gillet would already be by my side.