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I shook my head.
"That's my job—"
"Let me," he says, shifting Madeline into his arms and lifting her slowly, tucking her chin against his shoulder. I never thought much of nobility before this since it always feels like they're making our lives miserable and not doing much for us in return for the hard work society does to keep them wealthy. But Benedict's effortless composure, the way he lifts Madeline up with no difficulty at all, and more to the point, he wants to do it— that's confusing to me. It's nothing like the demanding way he's touched me, either. He's careful with her. I never thought of nobles as anything but stuffed shirts, winning Olympic medals in horse jumping and opening up expensive night clubs to make themselves richer and more famous. Or debauching maids and nannies without a single care.
We walk toward the exit, unnoticed by the cluster of glittering people by the fire, the duke still holding everyone's rapt attention until I get to the door, Benedict slipping out ahead of me. Something in the corner of my eyes has me pausing.
The duke's gaze is on me for what must be a split second but it feels like an eternity. His eyes burn bright, the rest of the people in the room fading away until it's only him and me.
This is the first time he's even looked at me tonight. And his expression changes to one of fury, so hot that it shocks me. My skin prickles, my breath catches, and he isenragedby me, my presence. My lips part; I want to ask him what's wrong, call outto him, something, but my mouth is dry—
He looks away, laughing at something someone's said, breaking the moment like a glass bowl hitting the ground. The sound shatters around me, and I stare at him, confused. I must have imagined it, because he's smiling, handsome face joyful with no hint of anger at all.
"Miss Bell?" The marquis asks from the hall, and I jerk forward through the doorways into the dimly lit hallway.
"Sorry," I breathe, "I thought—" Benedict is looking at me, one eyebrow quirked, Madeline passed out on his shoulder, her face smushed into his jacket collar.
"You thought what? That you'd say goodnight?" He's amused, maybe a few inches away from laughing at me.
"No, of course not," I say with a shake of my head. "Let's go up."
The duke has no reason to look at me with rage in his eyes, anger, or hate. I must have imagined it. But there's a shadow of feeling that follows me as I trail behind the marquis. That prickling sensation never entirely leaves my skin, even when I lay down in my bed an hour later and fall asleep.
10
Eva
I didn't think that I'd have as much free time as I do when I took this job.
But Madeline is busy. B-U-S-Y. She has so many lessons that it makes my head spin, and half the time, more than half the time, she's not even in my care. It feels more like I'm the person hired to walk her twenty feet from one room to the next and then make myself scarce for forty-five minutes, or longer, while she learns some new skill, or expands her education in some other area. And that's only when she's not in the main school room, where the masters rotate in and out themselves, and she stays put.
I swear though, if she keeps up this rate of studying, her brain is going to be three pounds heavier than the average by the time she's ten.
Still, I can't complain for myself, because it's nice. Not being expected to do much more than a bit of tidying around her room in the morning and at night, and I'm somewhat 'untouchable' when it comes to being randomly assigned tasks by other members of the staff, I decide that I'll take an early lunch from the kitchen on my fourth day there and go sit out in the sun.
What's the point of working in one of the most beautiful estates in the country, if I'm not going to take advantage of it?
I beg a sandwich from the cook, and snag myself a bottle of water, and go walking.
The late morning sun is hotter than I thought it would be. I wish I'd considered bringing a hat. The road that curves out from the entry of the great house leads toward the front gates, where I first took my interview. I remember that there were paths that lead from there into the vineyards, and down to the stable area. I find myself walking along one, the shade too tempting to ignore.
The trees arch overhead to shelter me, and the pathway, wildflowers growing without any form or function under them. It's sort of nice to see something untamed, since the rest of the estate is planned with military precision.
The sound of an engine behind me, and wheels over gravel, has me turning, preparing to smile at whoever is there.
I stop in my tracks.
The duke is riding on an ATV, and my lips part in surprise. He's dressed for outdoor work, in jeans and a t-shirt. It's so different from the few times I've seen him when he's been in a suit and tie.
My eyes flick over him without meaning to. His brother Benedict is dangerously attractive, but Mason King?
He radiates power, even riding on a stupid ATV in a tee and jeans. My face is flushing and I'm an idiot. What's wrong with me? I step off the path so he can get by, lowering my gaze to the ground.
I expect him to just ride by, but he stops. My heart stutters to a halt, too, and I inhale a big breath, lifting my eyes to meet his.
"Your grace," I say, "it's good to see you out today."
It's good to see you out today?
