Page 28 of A Tale of Two Dukes

I wave off her concern with a smile and sit down, my stomach growling again. If the maid hears it, she makes no mention. “I was already awake. No harm.” Scenting the air, my mouth waters at the display of eggs and meats. “Please give my compliments to the cook. Breakfast looks absolutely delicious.”

“Yes, Miss.” With another bob, she gathers the sheets from the bed.

A faint rustling noise is the only sound in the room as I bring the fork to my lips. I so desperately want to talk to her, to find out what I can about the duke who has purchased me. But I’m not even sure where to begin.

Does this woman know who I am and why I’m here? Surely she must. Heat tinges my cheeks as I turn my attention to the food. I’m not sure I want to know what she thinks of me.

With a heavy sigh, I lean back in the chair and close my eyes. If I allow myself, I can pretend I’m back at home with my lady’s maid, Emma. Cracking an eye open, I study this other maid, taking in the severe style of her hair. Truthfully, she’s more like the maids who would help my mother rather than a playful confidant.

“What shall you be doing today, Miss?”

“Hmmm?” Her question puzzles me.

What else would a mistress do besides wait at home for her master to ravage her? That’s all it takes to bring arousal flooding back until bumps rise along my arms and awareness tingles at the back of my neck. In the span of less than a week, I’ve gone from the daughter of an earl to a strumpet who longs for her master’s touch.

It hurts to know how far I’ve fallen in such a short amount of time. Shoving those painful thoughts to the back of my mind, I look back at the maid, noting the soft smile on her face. She must be able to smell my arousal.

More than that, the heady scent of musk from our lovemaking hangs about in the air. Anyone entering could smell it, knowing exactly what took place between those sheets. How many times has she had to bring in food to a wanton? I’m certainly not the first. I can’t be.

For a moment, a flash of jealousy sparks in my heart, but I know I have no right to this emotion. Oh, the shame and humiliation. Somehow this is far worse than being taken on a dais in front of strangers. Her conspiratorial wink, however, is what cranks the heat in my face from blazing to an inferno.

“Sorry, Miss. I’m not sure when His Grace will be back to attend to you. However, there are so many other things you can do until his return. Shall I now prepare you for the day? I’m sure there are many stores you’d like to visit.”

“Shopping? You propose I spend my day traipsing about? I- I can’t do that.”

She gives me an odd look but says nothing. Is this really what mistresses do? Even when I was a proper lady, shopping never really interested me. I was far more comfortable at home with my family. Besides, what else could a mistress need?

“Well, unfortunately, you have little choice. His Grace would like you to at least visit the modiste so that you can be outfitted in clothes befitting your new station.”

“A whore,” I spit out. “What clothes does that station require?”

The maid blinks at me for a moment, shock crossing her face. “Forgive me, Miss. I didn’t mean to upset you. I- most courtesans are more than delighted to be outfitted with new clothes at a duke’s expense.”

I slump down into my chair, head dropping into my hands. “It is I who should ask your forgiveness. It wasn’t polite of me to snap.”

“Fancy that,” the maid giggles. “An apology to a maid. Whatever shall happen next.” She kneels down and takes my hand in hers. “I am to be your lady’s maid. No apologies are needed. I’m used to working for ladies who care not what comes out of their mouths or how much coin drips from their fingers. I suspect you will be a breath of fresh air.”

Giving her a watery smile, I sit up and pat her hand. “It would be nice to have a friend here.”

“Well, you have one.” With a slight dip, she gives me a large grin. “I’m Alice, Miss. If you so please. Now, let’s get you dressed and ready to go out.”

I stand and follow her, but my stomach rebels, terror infusing my limbs. What if others see me and somehow recognize me? Granted, since I never had a coming out, the number of people I made acquaintances with is surely few and far between.

However, all it takes is one person. Gossip can still spread like fire even if it only drips from one set of lips. And with something as salacious as this fall from grace, all it will take is one person before my reputation and family are ruined.

If the maid notices my reluctance, she doesn’t make mention of it. Instead, she seems far more excited about flitting through gowns, looking for just the right dress. Finally, she lands on a simple number, muted grays and lace.

We’re both silent as she dresses me, my eyes never leaving the mirror. It’s not quite the snug fit my other clothes at home have, but it doesn’t look too unfortunate. Once the dress is how she likes it, she tackles my mane of curls, her brows scrunched in thought as she runs her fingers through the wavy tresses.

Granted, it’s not nearly as curly as my sister’s and so, she’s able to manage it well enough. A tug here, a swoop there, and my hair is as it should be—tamed, elegant, and the picture of sophistication. Just like me.

And yet, deep inside, I know no amount of finery or frippery will erase the stain that’s on my very soul. As she finishes, my breathing quickens, fear zipping through my veins until I’m rooted to the spot. I’m just a harlot playing at being a lady, and someday, everyone will know it.

“I know it’s not the best, but it will last you until you get more. Who knows, she might already have enough ready-made pieces you can have sent here.”

“And then what?”

Again, she pauses and gives me a quizzical look. “Forgive me, Miss, but that’s completely up to you. There are shows to be seen, people to converse with. Being a mistress doesn’t mean resigning yourself to the house. At least, that’s not how the others acted.”