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"So what happened? You hated each other but obviously sat still long enough to make Lady Madeline," I say and my words make him laugh, unexpectedly.
"Yes, I suppose that's true," he muses, and sighs. "She was born in this room."
My eyes flicker wide.
"This room? You didn't, she didn't— I mean, hospitals?" I stammer out and he raises an eyebrow at me.
"What a security risk that would be," he murmurs, "but I suppose you wouldn't think of it that way. She was born here. Conceived here." He glowers at the bed like it's a hated thing. I've only ever been with people I really loved, or thought I did, anyway. I can't imagine what it would have been like to have to be with someone who I didn't love.
Or even like.
My skin crawls at the thought.
"So I guess this room doesn't hold a lot of great memories for you," I say, "but okay, so you hated each other, she gave you Lady Madeline—"
"The only good to have come out of my congregation with her," he says stiffly.
"And now?"
"She left," he says it like the words are choking him. "She just, left, as if Madeline meant nothing. I knew she held me in nothing but contempt, but to abandon our daughter?" He breathes through it, the hurt in his voice, as if he could never comprehend such a base evil as that.
It all makes sense now though. Why no one ever talks about the Duchess. Why I never see her maid, how she's never there for Madeline at all. She left the family, the title, all of it.
Well, her not being around makes sense, but why she held such animosity for the duke was still a mystery.
Maybe he'd offended her, like he did to me on the daily with his cutting comments and abrasive personality.
It was a distinct possibility, I thought as I watched him from beneath my eyelashes. He wasn't looking at me, his fists clenched as he gazed steadily at that bed.
"Why don't you get rid of it?" I ask, the thought occurring to me suddenly. He jerks, like I've hit him, and he turns.
"What?" He asks. I clear my throat. Did I stutter? No, he's just shocked at my suggestion.
"Burn it. The bed. If it has such horrible memories for you, then get rid of it. I mean, it's pretty old-fashioned anyway." It is. The posters look about a hundred years old, or more, and whatever's hidden under the cover sheet can't be any better. "It's probably got fifty pounds of dust-mites in it now, right? How long has that mattress been sitting there?"
He chokes, his eyes going wide and I've really stepped in it. Why can't I keep my stupid mouth shut? I'm not just being impertinent, I'm risking my whole job to say such things to him. The help aren't supposed to talk like this, not to the high-born, not unless they ask us our opinions. And then, only a very close valet or butler might venture a thought.
I've learned that much in the last few months here at Wester. No matter how much we've shared, I still have to be careful.
My breath catches and holds tight in my throat, and then he surprises me. He throws his head back, and laughs, his hand going to his chest, gripping at his shirt like it's painful. He looks at me and shakes his head.
"Burn it. Of course. Only you would suggest such a thing," he says with a dying chuckle in his throat. "Lord above, who sent you to torment me?"
"I didn't mean," I say, my face flushing. His brow raises.
"Oh did you not? Of course you did. Mrs. Harris couldn't beat the impertinence out of you even if she was allowed to lay hands on you." He walks toward me. "So you suggest we burn it?"
"Or sell it. I mean, it's gotta be worth some cash—" He's a foot away from me, and when I glance up at him, his face is different.
Not like he has a different face, but his expression.
It's soft.
Gentle. Unguarded. He's not telling some joke to a group of his contemporaries, carefully curated to amuse them. He's not ordering the servants, or speaking to one of his business partners.
"Why are you so…" He doesn't say what I am, doesn't clarify. Instead he cups my chin in his hand, the touch so electric that I nearly lift out of my skin. The gasp hitches inside me, his skin warm and rough at the same time. He bends down.
Oh my god.
