Page 53 of A Tale of Two Dukes

He grabs my chin, forcing my gaze up. “Do you not care at all?”

My heart pounds. “Far more than you can ever fathom.”

“Then why do you insist on meeting with that man, on seeing him when I gave an explicit order?”

“I- It’s complicated.”

“No,” he growls, sliding his finger across the pendant lying heavy against my breastbone. “Obedience isn’t complicated. Does he mean something to you?” There’s an odd note in his voice, pain, if I didn’t know any better.

I blink up at him, curious as to why he’s not using his Alpha growl to force me. In truth, it would make all of this so much easier. I’d even have an excuse if Mr. Beaumont questioned me.

Birchleigh is twice the man my father was, and if his growl could command me, then the duke’s would be far more potent. I would be blameless. And yet, my master simply looks at me, his brows furrowed and eyes clouded.

The vulnerability he shows pierces me far more keenly than any commanded growl. This, more than anything, drives the desire to speak. If only to erase the hurt that clearly shines in his eyes. Oh, if only he’d force my hand, but no. It’s as if he’s giving me the choice. He wants me to be honest with him because I choose to and not because he compels me.

It tears at me, hurting far worse than being denied my nest. “No, Your Grace,” I cry out. “He means nothing to me.”

“And yet you still wear this necklace he ‘found’ of yours.” The jealousy in his voice calls to me, demanding I put all of this right.

Perhaps if I tell him a truth, it will allow him to look past the other lies. “The necklace is special. The man who put it in my possession is not. It belongs to my sister.”

He freezes, his eyes boring into mine. Silence hangs heavily in the air as he runs his finger over the pendant. “You never mentioned a sister.”

“And why would I?” Bitterness laces my tone as I shake my head. “What need does a harlot have with family?”

A frown mars his face as he leans back. “Family is the most important thing there is. Is she well?”

I release a shaky breath, my limbs trembling. “She is dead to me.” It’s technically the truth, and saying so rips my heart open. “I wear this to remember her.”

“Shh, love,” he purrs, running his thumbs down my cheeks to remove the tears. “It was not my intention to cause you this type of pain. No punishment is worth that. I do wish you had told me.”

“But why? When there is nothing to be done?”

“For one, I might not have felt jealous of this necklace. I cannot tell you how many times I longed to rip it from your neck and cast it into the flames.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” My heart stutters at his words.

“As am I. Can you imagine the groveling I’d have to do to make up for something like that?” Once more, his voice is light, teasing.

It sets me at ease. This is how I know all is right between us. For the moment, that is. He flashes me his easy smile, and my insides clench.

“I take it that’s not something you’re capable of, Your Grace?”

“Call me William.”

I freeze, looking up into his warm gaze. “Y- Your Grace. One of my station… I can’t.”

“Well, not in public, at least. But surely you must know my affection toward you.”

“I’m not unaware. But that name is saved for your wife.” Pain rips through my heart at the thought of him with another woman.

“And she will call me such, but you will be the only one I want to hear it from.”

This is my punishment then. To have everything I ever wanted dangled in front of me, only to be snatched away the moment he needs a legitimate heir. The very idea of another woman addressing him so informally, of sharing his bed, his life… It’s too much.

“Please, Your Grace… I-” My voice cracks as he leans in and kisses me, our souls intertwining for that moment.

“I love you, Kitty Bartlett. That will never change, even when another takes my name.”