4
Vincent Hawthorne
H awthorne Manor is the most imposing, richest house in Gamia, second only to the King’s Vacation Palace. Monera’s capital, Livia, is just an hour away from this manor, far enough from the city that I can escape my mother’s smothering claws but close enough that I can be at work quickly if needed.
The other Hawthorne property, back in the capital, where I used to live, is just as magnificent, though more recent.
This property was created to be a summer house back in the seventeenth century when this land was purchased by my ancestors. However, when Aunt Elizabeth was promised to marry Joseph Gotta, my grandfather used this and half of his wealth as a wedding dowry, allowing them to live comfortably.
Even if I have been here several times before, I can still gawk at the grandiosity. The long hall of the entrance is slightly chaotic now, with all the employees running around carrying furniture, portraits, chandeliers, and whatnot, up and down, east and west, hastily following my mother’s dictatorial orders.
As I look around, I take in all the small details decorating the hall. The long rectangular division by the entrance has its walls covered with intrinsic nature-inspired decorations, enhancing the neoclassical influence.
White is the main colour, contrasting with the pearly and golden details of the decorations. It’s subtle but classic, letting the family portraits be the focus of the walls. The one closest to the doorway is one of my Aunt Elizabeth and Joseph adorned with this beautiful gold frame.
Right next to them is my grandparents with my aunt and father while they were still ten and four years old. The line of family portraits continues up until the first duke, where this beautiful U-shaped staircase starts, leading to the noble floor.
This property is even bigger than the one I grew up in, and now it’s mine.
My aunt had no children, as she and Joseph had planned. They were third-degree cousins who had grown up together but never developed romantic feelings for each other. I became the sole heir to reunite the wealth that had been divided.
Thus, turning our family into the richest and second most important in Monera. The lineage of our family is old. The first Duke of Hawthorne having received its title not long after the creation of the kingdom.
Augustus was the fourth child of the royal couple that had founded Monera just twenty-five years prior. Clara, a Portuguese noblewoman, the first queen had married a British Prince and made the archipelago independent.
With a woman as the founder, Monera never followed the European trend of having the male children precede the females. It’s now part of our constitution that the firstborn, regardless of gender, is the heir.
So, he was given the title of First Duke of Hawthorne and a small percentage of the nutmeg business they started. Currently, the most important noble families do have small shares of it, to justify their royal income.
The Royal Family and the Hawthornes became cousins once removed since then. And the lack of other lineages makes me second in line to the Crown, after the king’s unborn child.
As if the burden of being Duke of Hawthorne wasn’t enough...
“Took you long enough,” my mother’s snide remark brings me out of my reverie.
It’s then I notice Camilla’s presence finally in front of us.
“Your Graces.” She bows to us, and my jaw clenches at the sight of her.
Unlike the last time, her face is adorned with a light layer of make-up, from which I can only recognize a little bit of eyeliner and the peachy shine from the lip gloss that covers her plump lips. My eyes linger for far too long on her lips, raising my blood pressure. As the temperature in the room increases, I look down in hopes of avoiding a disaster.
Only to regret it instantly.
She is not in a uniform, like the other employees running around the property, but she is wearing tight black pants that hug her figure in all the right places and an almost see-through white blouse that is buttoned up to the beginning of her cleavage, showing just a teeny tiny bit of what her chest might look like.
And fuck me if I don’t want to just rip that shirt off and see it from up close. Living here will be fucking torture.
“I am sorry for taking so long to meet you. One of the windows got jammed up on the noble floor, and I am the only one who knows how to make them work properly,” she answers with a calm and composed tone, finishing with a kind smile.
“Well then,” my mother trails off, giving her surroundings one last glance. “Show us my son’s quarters.”
Camilla looks at me and bows her head once more before addressing me, “We’ve prepared every single room in the manor for you to choose which one you prefer, Your Grace.”
“Nonsense.” My mother steps forward, shaking her hands like it’s obvious. “My son will stay in the duchess’ chambers.”
“Mother,” I grit. “The last thing I want is to sleep in the bedroom my aunt died in. I’d rather not,” I snark back, giving her a pointed look.
Meddler. That’s her middle name.
While I’ve let her have her way so far, I’m done being complacent. Having this house to move into and get some distance from her will, hopefully, be the freedom ticket I needed from her controlling claws.
That’s not to say I won’t do what’s expected of me. Only that it will happen on my own terms…
She huffs but doesn’t fight me on it, so I address Camilla, instead. “Please, lead the way.”
The noble floor has over twelve bedrooms, and my mother insists that I take the second largest, to which I almost agree until another thought comes to my mind.
“Camilla,” I call, her name rolling off my tongue like honey. Just uttering her name invokes weird sensations that have no business in my life. How the bloody hell am I supposed to share a house with her?
She looks back at me, expectant, and I continue, “Is there a good one by the office?” She nods. “I’ll have that one, then. On the late working nights, I’ll be too tired to walk this far just for sleep.”
She answers with a quiet “Of course” and starts walking, directing us there.
“Where do you and all the other employees sleep?” my mother asks suddenly.
“I used to sleep in a room right next to the duchess as per her request. When her health started to deteriorate, she needed someone who could be close enough in case she needed aid, but ever since she, uhm.” A gulp draws my attention back to her and concern takes over me.
A deep frown is etched onto her eyebrows. It shouldn’t surprise me how much she seems to be affected by my aunt’s death. Even if, in reality, she was only her boss, I know their bond was far beyond that.
“Say it, child. After she died.” My mother tantalises her with a cold and detached tone.
She never got along with my aunt. I don’t know if it was because she was close with my father, and it made my mother jealous…Truth is, it got so bad sometimes that Aunt Elizabeth stopped allowing her to visit alongside my father and me.
I was often the target of my mother’s attempts at knowing what happened here, even to no avail. All serious matters were discussed behind closed doors, and I was preoccupied with the sweet little girl asking me to play hide and seek with her.
A light whimper escapes Camilla’s mouth, and a sudden tug at my heartstrings sours my mood instantly.
“Mother, please don't be cruel,” I hiss.
“Yes, after she passed away,” Camilla continues with a sad smile, not giving in to my mother’s toxic behaviour. “I’ve brought all of my things back to the housekeeper’s room, right next to the kitchen.”
“Good, at least you know your place.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” I grit out, not having the patience for my mother’s pettiness. “Thank you for helping, Camilla. My mother’s not feeling well, as you can see. Allow me to accompany her outside so the driver can take her home for some needed rest.”
Camilla nods and bows, excusing herself from our presence. When I place my mother’s hand on my elbow and start walking, she whines, “That’s not the plan, son. I’m staying for the next couple of weeks. You should settle in and learn how to manage this manor.”
“You forget I was the one already doing it at our house?” I raise my eyebrow.
“That was the official order; you did anything I asked you to.”
“Exactly,” I agree. “And that taught me something. I’ll be fine on my own,” I grumble, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“But this is a new house, new staff…You’ll need help, so I’ll stay.” She quickly dismisses me, trying to untangle her arm from mine, but I pull her back to me, leading us into the entrance hall.
“That’s exactly why I have a housekeeper. She’ll take care of everything. It’s her damn job,” I raise my voice, echoing through the spacious division.
“That girl won’t work.” She matches my voice. “I was already thinking about dismissing her. I’ll take over while we look for someone suitable. You need me to stay here with you.”
Living here with Camilla will be hell, but not having her here is just…wrong.
“No!” I roar.
I regret the tone of my voice as soon as it escapes my mouth upon seeing the way my mother’s eyes widen. Taking a quick breath to regain my composure, I try to do some damage control by adding, “Mother, Aunt Elizabeth’s will was extremely detailed. According to what’s written, I have to live here alone until I get married and Camilla is to not be fired—at all or ever.”
A round of expletives leave my mother’s mouth.
“That old sag,” she exclaims, rushing out the door. “She did this on purpose, knowing I’d be trying to help. She’s forcing me out once again!”
Or allowing me to finally not be under your rule… “Mother—”
She cuts me off. “Don’t let your aunt have her way. She is trying to manipulate you into her whims, even after death.”
“Mum, please, are you listening to yourself?” I scold her. “Aunt Elizabeth is only looking out for her staff, and I didn’t plan on letting them go either. Keeping their job is only fair. That’s as far as my aunt’s influence will go in my life. Don’t worry.”
Understanding I am not wavering, she begrudgingly nods. “Still, be careful. I don’t trust that housekeeper. Do not forget you’re meant for more than this. Don’t get comfortable.”
Finally, in perfect timing and saving me from continuing this dreadful matter, David, my driver, steps out of the car and opens the door. With my help, she gets inside, and I watch, lost in my thoughts, as they depart from the property.
Even though I tried to play it down, my mum was right to be worried. This is going to be much harder than I expected, but not for the reasons she thinks.
Even though I know in my gut that everything about this change will only make things worse, as the car shrinks with the distance, a heavyweight gradually lifts off my shoulders. For the first time in my life, I feel like I can breathe.
“Fuck, this feels good.”
With a deep breath, I turn around, the little pebbles crunching under my shoes. As soon as I catch sight of the building’s imposing facade, from one of the windows, I see a sudden movement.
It’s quick, but the swinging curtain gives it away. Someone was watching…And I think I know exactly who it was.
??????
The clock marks two in the morning, and I haven’t been able to fall asleep yet.
After I managed to send my mother back, I dove headfirst into organising my office and preparing everything for tomorrow’s workload.
At some point, supper appeared on my desk, and I was entirely grateful. Going downstairs was going to be a huge effort as exhaustion started to settle in. I was taking my clothes off to bed even before reaching inside the attached bedroom.
The problem was the moment my head hit the pillow. A strong whiff of Camilla’s characteristic vanilla-like scent hit me like a hundred-ton truck, and my brain went into overdrive.
It’s the same vanilla-like fragrance that reaches my nostrils whenever Camilla is around, and I curse my brain for registering the scent. It’s been stuck in my mind ever since I saw her, back at my aunt's memorial.
“Fucking hell, I won’t be able to sleep like this,” I curse and leave the bedroom.
Heading down the stairs towards the kitchen, I hope a late snack and some water will help my brain get rid of the thoughts.
There is only one small presence of light illuminating the space, just enough to help me not crash against anything and find the cupboard, where I take a glass and place it underneath the tap.
The water refreshes my throat, mitigating the heat that my body was in, just because I was thinking of her. I relax slightly as the tension dissipates and sleepiness peeks through.
As the drowsiness increases, I place the glass in the sink and turn to leave, at the same time the door that leads to the orchard opens, revealing a petite and curvy silhouette entering the kitchen.
Long, toned legs are bare up until her mid-thighs, where a flimsy and silky textile starts, barely covering her body. It clings to her hips, easing only in the tight curve of her waist. Her bare arm is tucked underneath her chest, towards her other arm, where a small dog is tucked in as if she were carrying a small baby.
My breath hitches at the sight, not because of the dog she’s carrying, but because of the position her arm is in, pressing her bra-less chest, making it seem like it’s going to spill from her nightgown’s cleavage.
Heat spreads around my chest, down towards my groin where my boxers tighten, and my eyes keep roaming up and down several times while she whispers silly nonsense to the dog, with innocent giggles in between.
I clear my throat to bring her attention to me at the exact moment she turns, and we lock eyes. She gasps and stumbles back, almost falling to the ground.