AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"She's waiting in her office," he says.
Fuck. Fuckity-fucker. With extra fucks on top.
I rush off and he whistles sharply. I stop.
"You're red in the face," he says, "and your hair—"
I catch sight of myself in a mirror positioned by one of the doors that lead out to the family's part of the house. My cheeks are blotched pink, and my hair is a mess. The duke saw me like this? I look awful. I grab one of the combs that are waiting there for a person like me who desperately needs to groom themselves, and brush my hair back into its ponytail.
"What were you doing that you got the duke all angry?" The footman asks, watching me. "He bolted out of here like he'd seen his father's corpse reanimated."
"Um, nothing," I say, brushing some leaves off of my dress, where I'd picked them up on my little adventure.
I swear I will never leave the house again without express permission if I end up being able to keep my job after this.
"Comein, Miss Bell," Mrs. Harris says from her office, and I dart in, my chest full of air and waiting to explain myself. She takes one look at me, and points at the chair in front of her desk. Her computer screen glows, and I feel kind of bad for her. There's no windows in here, although I guess that's better for reducing glare on her computer monitor.
She folds her hands together as she looks at me, as if she might tease out the mystery of why I went on a walk from just staring me down.
"I didn't know I had to tell anyone when I left the house if Lady Madeline was in class," I say, swallowing hard. "I'm very sorry and I won't do it again."
Mrs. Harris gives a long-suffering sigh, like I'm the biggest problem in her world right about now, and I don't blame her for feeling that way.
The fact the duke tramped all the way out through the fields to find me is embarrassing. I might not think much of the nobility system, but the fact I inconvenienced someone who was so busy running a big estate, and had better things to do than to track me down, is eating at me.
"You're learning," Mrs. Harris says, "I can't fault you for making simple mistakes, however—" She drags that last word out.
I wait for her to finish her sentence. She glances at the door significantly. I get up and close it without a word and retake myplace on the chair. It's a wooden thing in a dark stain that has seen better days. To call it rickety would be nice. I perch gingerly on it.
"Lord Benedict has registered an interest in you," Mrs. Harris says bluntly. My face feels like all the blood has drained from it, and she nods, looking equally as disturbed. "I assured the duke that the feelings were not returned—"
"Of course not!" I burst out, and then clapped a hand over my mouth, trying to keep from hyperventilating. That high-born, high-cheekboned asshole is going to get me fired.
My eyes burn, and I realize I'm in tears. I blink them away furiously. Mrs. Harris sighs, almost deflating.
"I thought as much. Of course you wouldn't be so foolish to fall under his spell in your first week here, and I don't want to imply that you're that simple, but it's happened before." She taps her fingers on her desk, like she's thinking. "And I just want you to think about that when you speak with him. You can't avoid him, not when he's a member of the family and lives here most of the time, but there's no need to act in any way that might encourage him."
I nod furiously, grateful for her calm tone and assurance that she doesn't think badly of me. The storm in my stomach is settling. A little bit. It still feels like there are thunderclouds in there, lightning crackling up my sternum and fizzing my nerves.
"I'll do my best," I promise, and then falter. "What do I do if he doesn't… listen? Or, take the hint?" I ask, feeling overwhelmed. It's one thing to corral Madeline. She's easy-going for a kid, and is too tired after her full day of learning to put up much of a fuss with me.
Mrs. Harris looks disturbed.
"Are you saying that he might force himself upon you," she breathes out in a hiss, "has he—"
"No, no, it's fine," I reply quickly, shaking my head. "No, I just, I can't control another person. Especially not the marquis."
"No, of course not," she says, relaxing slightly. "Just do your best to keep your head down. The Season will be starting soon anyway, and he'll be too busy to create trouble for you." She eases herself against the back of her chair with a sigh. I sit opposite from her, wondering how to ask the question without seeming like a complete idiot.
I spent so long overseas, and I was never in a house that participated in any of the annual events that ruled the noble lives that in turn ruled ours.
"The Season? That's not for awhile yet though, right?" I finally ask, swallowing down my pride. She glances at me.
"The ducal Season. Young women are introduced at the duke's court here, before moving on to other courts further afield if they don't find an eligible match. Normally the duchess—" She stops herself. "Never-mind. Maddie is at least twelve years away from her first Season, but the marquis will be looking for a wife this year perhaps, to settle him. It's what the duke wishes anyway. As soon as the families arrive, it'll be busy for all of us, especially Lord Benedict." She seems to take a grim pleasure in the idea of him being run off of his feet.
"Don't they go to D.C. for the Season too?" I ask, with a frown, remembering something I'd read in Civics. Mrs. Harris gets to her feet.
"That's later in the year, in the winter. If a girl hasn't made a match in her local area, or if her family thinks she can do better, then she goes on to D.C. to be presented to the king." She dusts off her apron. "Now get along. I'm sure Lady Madeline will be done with her classes shortly. And you don't want to be late to retrieve her."
