10. CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER FIVE
SEBASTIAN
Odd.
That is the only word to describe the Little Dove.
Not only did she completely soak me with espresso, but she actually darted from the room.
I don’t even have time to part my lips with how fast she leaves, and I know if I look into a mirror right now, I will see nothing but pure shock and maybe a bit of amusement.
Any of the past handmaids would be on the floor, practically licking what they spilled on me, but not her.
Not Victoria Pierce. She ran as if she committed a crime and, unfortunately for her, has piqued my interest.
There isn’t much I do during the day, and for the past few years, it has been nothing but the palace walls keeping me entertained.
All the luxury and money in the world at my fingertips, and I’d give it all up in a heartbeat.
To be honest, I can’t remember the last time I even cared to look at a dollar bill, never mind spend it.
That’s all Mary.
Given the chance, the woman would drain every bank account I have with things she doesn’t need, but wants. Selfish in every way, all while my people are fighting over a loaf of bread.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m no saint. I’m far from it.
Anyone in the palace will tell you that, especially Georgina, but that is a story for another day.
The reality is that I’d trade everything to just be someone without a title.
Hell, I’d kill to fight over a loaf of bread, and I’d probably smile when it was taken from me.
It’s fucked up. I’m fucked up.
Thanks to the espresso, I have to take another shower to rid myself of the sticky residue that coats my fingers, my chest. It sends me over my usual time, which is frustrating. I’m a stickler for being on time, especially when I know my father is going to give me a lecture.
Dinner is family time. That in and of itself is laughable, because it only started when I married Mary.
Never before had we sat together and eaten as a family, but I’m sure my father only wants to show Mary how happy we all are.
Or he wants to impress her for whatever reason.
Whatever. I don’t look too far into it because I just don’t care.
My hair is still damp when I make my way down to the large dining room, tilting my head in thanks when the doors open for me.
Everyone is already seated, a spread of different meats and perfectly prepared vegetables laid out the full length of the table.
The sight has my stomach churning. It’s enough to feed four families, and I know damn well Mary won’t eat any of it, especially the meat.
She swears red meat will kill you. I eat extra just to aggravate her.
“How nice of you to join us, Sebastian.” My eyes roll at my father’s drawl while I make way to my designated seat.
With purposeful intent, I drag the chair out until it scrapes against the floor before settling onto the cushion.
One of the butler’s motions forward and snags the silk napkin, snapping it out and folding it into a neat triangle.
I take it before he is able to set it onto my lap.
There is enough constant commotion around my dick right now, I don’t need a butler accidentally brushing it with a fucking napkin.
I’m almost convinced if anyone else touches it, it’ll just fall off.
The poor thing is already chafed from fucking Mary so many times a day with her ‘wet’ pussy, which is total bullshit.
It’s never wet. It’s a desert down there, especially for me, and I’m starting to think she does it on purpose.
I know it’s impossible, but it makes me feel better.
Like I said – fucked up.
I lean back into the seat and flex my fingers. “Is it?” I can feel the heat radiating off of my father, a wicked grin curls across my lips. “That is the nicest thing you’ve said to me all week.”
“Sebastian, that’s enough,” my mother warns, making me snort. She’s always followed my father blindly.
An assortment of vegetables are scooped and placed delicately on each pure white plate, the four of us sitting patiently and waiting until each plate is filled, or rather, mostly filled.
All but my wife’s plate, thanks to her eating like a bird.
I, on the other hand, can’t wait to dig in, slicing my knife easily through the slow cooked venison.
As expected, it melts in my mouth, earning a low groan from deep in my throat, likely more of a passionate response than Mary could ever coax from me.
I go in for another bite, stopping as soon as the door opens and Georgina walks in, followed closely behind by my Little Dove.
She can feel my eyes on her. I know she can just by the way her big brown irises lock immediately onto mine.
I’m drawn to her like a fierce act of God, unable to pull my gaze away.
Is that how she feels as well, or is she just nervous being around me?
By the way she continues to stare, I’d say she isn’t. It’s almost like she’s challenging me, making my cock twitch behind the zipper of my pants.
“Georgina, come. Have a meal with us, won’t you?
” my mother asks, causing me to break the stare from Victoria.
It isn’t often they allow the help to sit with us, but Georgina has always been a special case.
The woman practically raised me, which I am more than grateful for.
I can’t even imagine where I’d be if she hadn’t.
Naturally, and as always, Georgina declines with her smile that warms my heart, and I can’t help the smile that forms to reciprocate.
“Miss Pierce, how about you?” My mother asks.
Well that I didn’t see coming.
The girl is frozen in her spot, pretty pink lips parted in what I assume is shock; I feel the same way.
Never has a new handmaiden been asked to sit with us.
This one hasn’t even breached her first twenty-four hours.
I flick my gaze to Georgina, who continues to stay passive, her hands neatly tucked behind her back; if I could guess, she is wringing those hands together in nervousness.
“Go on, have a seat,” my mother encourages.
Victoria is quick to pull her shock from her features, that challenging look once again confidently draping over her as she takes a step forward and slides easily into the empty seat.
Her shoulders remain calm, head held high as her gaze finds mine once again.
Considering she is sitting directly across from me, that’s easy.
She’s sitting where Mary should be. Instead, my wife chooses to always sit to the left of my father, my mother on his right.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Victoria says.
Her voice comes out smooth, sending my eyebrow hiking up.
I watch as she folds the napkin over her lap, not allowing the butler to do it for her.
The whole room is silent, and I’m not sure if it’s because everyone is holding their breath over this whole interaction.
Even I’m on edge, which doesn’t happen often.
I find my eyes glued to every move Victoria makes, like the way she holds her fork in one hand, a knife in another. I even watch as she uses the utensils, not so delicately with confidence radiating off of her. It’s baffling. Where the hell did they find this girl?
The silence drags on until my mother speaks up. “Are you finding Hawthorn to your liking?”
Victoria places her fork and knife down, bringing the napkin to her lips before she nods. “It’s beautiful. I am honored to be here.”
Clearly, the answer is appropriate. Even my father’s gaze finds its way to Victoria.
“Is there anything specific that catches your eye?” Now it’s my father’s turn to speak. What the fuck is going on?
Victoria’s lips pull up, and my attention is quick to notice. It is like her body is there, but her mind is somewhere else. The dark chocolate hues of her irises become brighter as her head tilts, and her answer takes my breath away.
“The garden, sir.”
“Why?” I can’t help asking the follow up question.
Everyone sees the garden as nothing more than a field of flowers, and sure, it’s beautiful, but it’s also so much more. It’s more of a home to me than the actual palace. It’s my safe haven, a place I run to when I can’t breathe. It’s everything.
Her lips purse, my breath hitches. Her eyes find mine, and I’m frozen in place.
“There’s a tree at the peak of the village,” she elaborates, “and when I was a little girl, I used to sit by that tree with my mother. If you looked hard enough, you could see the garden. Or, at least, you could see a little bit of it.”
I know that tree. It’s an oak, I believe.
“So, you enjoy a garden that you could barely see?” Mary cuts in, breaking through that light in Victoria’s eyes.
It doesn’t matter; Victoria isn’t fazed when she replies with a firm and non-negotiable, “Yes.”
I bite my tongue to hold back a laugh, distracting myself by placing another piece of venison into my mouth.
The tension is nothing short of suffocating.
It’s noticed by Georgina, who is now ushering Victoria from the table by using the excuse that she has chores to tend to.
Once again, heat radiates through the room, but it’s coming from Mary instead of my father.
Perhaps family dinners will become more tolerable, tonight hasn’t been so bad afterall.