Page 35 of A Tale of Two Dukes

“I-”

“Shhh. Calm yourself. No need in garnering the attention of everyone else. It’s clear to me anyhow. You becoming his mistress was no accident. I offered Madame Douler far more than what you’re worth, and instead, you’re with him. Would you have even been a virgin when my brother married you?”

“Of course!” Anger lances through me at his callous accusation.

“I believe I told you no lies. It doesn’t matter anyhow. You’re going to use that quicksilver tongue of yours to bring down your patron.”

“Never.” The word flies out of my mouth before I can even think of the repercussions.

“But of course you will. You're his mistress, his toy. Soon, he’ll tire of you, just like all the others. And when he does, I’ll be sure to scoop you up, taking you for my own. You will not escape so easily.” His brows furrow for a moment, his intent and desires clear. “Besides, what’s worth more to you? Sex with this man who has no real regard for your person or what’s left of your family?”

Tears gather at my eyes as he lays out this new torture. How can I betray any of them? I’ll have to find a way out of this, but how?

“Such sentimental creatures,” he smirks, his tone snide and demeaning.

Pausing, he whips out a handkerchief. My fingers follow the familiar scroll, the monogram of a ‘J’ surrounded by flowers. It belongs to my sister. I’d know it anywhere. I was the one who taught her how to embroider it.

Even now, I can see the uneven stitches, improved, but still not where they need to be. How is he even getting to her? Mother should be by her side, protecting her. Besides, since he’s the spitting image of the man who was betrothed to me, there’s no way she’d allow my sister to consort with him.

Opening up the linen, my heart stops as I notice the bits of red flecking the white expanse. It can’t be. The doctor told us she was quite well.

“Oh, were you not aware that her cough has returned? Poor thing. Stress seems to make it worse. Thankfully, she’s found a secret beau, one who comes to her while she lies by the stream. I’m sure you know the one. She told me you used to play there often.”

Indeed, I know it. How could Mother allow her down there alone? Then again, that was the only way we could escape when she and Father fought. “If you hurt her-”

“I do not believe you’re in a position to make threats. Not when your sister weeps for you, desperate for you to come home. Now then, continue being a good girl for me, and your sister will not come to any harm.”

“Have you lost your way?” Birchleigh’s voice wraps around me, enveloping me in a cocoon of safety.

There’s an acidic bite to his words, a malice I’ve never heard before. Instead of scaring me, it reminds me of just how powerful and capable my master is. Worse though, it reminds me of his commanding touch.

Now is certainly not the time to become aroused. Not when Mr. Beaumont runs his fingers down the edge of my gown, stopping just short of the curve of my breast. There will be no way to convince the duke that it’s him who causes my body to respond and not this horrid man that threatens my family.

“Your… courtesan dropped this the other day. I was simply returning it. It would be a shame if any damage had come to it. Good evening, Your Grace.”

The moment he leaves, I sag forward in the chair, clutching the handkerchief. Birchleigh kneels beside me, his eyes a swirl of emotion. He doesn’t say a word, and I cannot fill the silence.

Every time my mouth wishes to drop open, my eyes drift down to the ‘J.’ Oh, that precious ‘J.’ I have to find some way out of this. Something that keeps both people I care about, both my sister and the duke, safe.

Granted, I shouldn’t lump Birchleigh in with my family, seeing as I’ve only known him for a day. And yet, I cannot bring myself to betray him. I look into his eyes, noting the disappointment that drifts from him.

“You must believe I did not ask him to see me.”

“I believe you, kitten,” he sighs, his voice tight. Reaching forward, he strokes the charm as it dangles cold and lifeless against my skin. “I believe you. It would be a shame to lose something so pretty.” His words hang in the air, the double entendre snapping between us.

He glances down, his brows furrowing as he notes the handkerchief. I don’t dare show him. The blood screams at me, even though it’s hidden within the snowy-white folds. It’s a spot I’ll never be clean of.

Like Lady Macbeth, I long to wash the blood clean, to rid my person of the vermillion that plagues me, haunts me. My fingers twitch as this battle wars in my soul. It would be so easy to say something, to end this torment for me.

But what of Josephine? Though I long to show him, to tell him of my sister’s misfortune, worry about her safety beats at me pushing all other selfish feelings to the side. It’s a silence I must bear to know she will live unmolested.

CHAPTER 15

Kitty

I’m not sure if I believe his words or not. Nothing about him screams out to me that he’s lying, but that cool, reserved feeling floods back in between us. Now, as the actors reclaim the stage, I’m no longer enraptured by the undulating voices or peaks and valleys of their range.

Still as a statue, I sit next to my master, unsure of what to do. I wish I could read him, but alas, that’s a skill I’ve never seemed to develop. It was easier to read my family’s shifting moods, but then, I lived with them forever.