6
Vincent Hawthorne
I ’ve been successfully avoiding Camilla for two days after that late-night encounter. My body felt wired up and oddly awake after it, so for the sake of my sanity, distance has been what’s keeping me safe.
And knowing I won’t be able to avoid her today is messing me up again, especially with Mother and Edgar coming for the first family dinner since I’ve moved in.
We almost kissed . Well, I almost kissed her, that’s for sure. If it wasn’t for the cute dog’s tongue bringing me back to the real world…I am not sure if I could have stopped at all.
The dog successfully avoided an apocalypse for now.
What the hell did my aunt have on her mind to set something up like this? Sure, we were tight when we were kids, playing together every moment we had, but that was ages ago. She couldn’t expect us to keep that innocent and pure connection.
I’m far from the innocent kid I used to be back then.
I am a man now. A man who is insanely attracted to his housekeeper and thinks of nothing but different ways to defile her.
Nice, Aunty…Real nice.
“I’ll lose my fucking mind,” I mumble to myself while tightly gripping the longer part of my hair.
With a couple of drinks, in a weak attempt to divert the tension from my body, I mindlessly walk around my office, thinking of different ways to get through this. That’s until a soft knock sounds from the door.
“Come in.”
“Your Grace,” her sweet and melodic voice fills my ears, and unwillingly, my body finally relaxes at the sound of her. “I’ve come to deliver mail.”
With my eyes glued to my desk, where I’m now sitting, I answer, “Please, leave it here, and I'll run over it later.”
If I make the mistake of looking her in the eyes, I’ll be sucked right back into thoughts of her.
“Of course,” she mumbles with a strained tone.
Did that night affect her, too?
My eyes burn holes into the paper before me while my ears focus on the sound of her heels clicking. Her steps are steady and rhythmic until they halt right before my desk. Her ankles and shoes enter my sightline.
My eyes rise slowly, drinking in the curves of her body all the way up until they land on her shiny chocolate-brown eyes.
“Here,” her soft voice is enough to bring a warm feeling to my chest.
“Thank you,” I say, struggling to look away from her plump lips. “I need you to prepare things for a family dinner tonight. My mother and Edgar are coming.”
She nods before asking, “Any special request for tonight's menu?”
“If it’s not a hassle, I’d like some salmon. How it will be cooked can be up to you, as well as the rest of the food.”
“Are there any forbidden ingredients? Any allergies?”
“None,” I answer. “Surprise me.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” She gives me a shy smile.
Our eyes linger on each other, thickening the air around us. I should be looking away and not giving in to temptation, but how is it possible? With her right in front of me, it’s like everything else fades away.
That is enough for the battle between ‘duty’ and ‘need’ to compete in my mind, with the latter winning.
The one thing I can focus on is… her .
Her eyes are shiny, and the artificial light of the office highlights all her beautiful features. The prominent cheeks, her eyes covered in big and thick eyelashes and her plump pink lips. She’s gorgeous, and with every new glance, I find a new enthralling detail. Like the small beauty mark on her right cheek, close to her jaw. How is it in the perfect spot to be kissed?
Oh, fuck. Not again.
I force myself to break the trance by clearing my throat and mumbling a quick “thank you.” She takes the chance to bow and retreat, leaving me alone in the office again.
I could lie and say I didn’t check her out on the way out, that I didn’t notice the gentle sway of her hips or the toned calves over those heels. But I did.
I fucking did.
“My baby,” my mother exclaims as soon as the doorman lets her in.
I step into the entrance hall, ready to welcome them in.
“Hello, Mother,” I greet, lightly kissing her cheek.
“How are you holding up here?” Her eyes are focused on the hall around her, not on me. “Is there anything you need me to do? Have you been alright on your own?”
I arch an eyebrow at her question while Edgar tries to hold in his laughter. If there’s someone who can make me feel like an irresponsible teenager when I am bloody thirty-one years old, it’s my mother.
“It’s been two days since you’ve seen me.”
“Two days is far too long if you ask me,” she fusses, looking me up and down.
What is she even looking for? Poorly ironed clothes? Nope, they’re clad. Underfed son? Fuck no. Camilla’s great at her job. And whoever cooked the food she asked for is also stellar.
I’m fucking fine.
“Well, imagine how hard it’ll be when he gets married, and you’ll have to stay away longer.” Edgar rolls his eyes. “What’s up, brother?”
“Edgar,” she hisses, turning to him with her hands on her hips. “Speak like the nobleman you are,” she snaps. “I’ve spent far too many years educating my children on proper etiquette for them to speak like common people.”
He shrugs her off with another roll of his eyes while giving me a side hug and whispering, “She’s already acting like you’re the future king and I’m future duke…as if we’re the most powerful in the country.”
I hold in the light chuckle. Edgar has lots of personality, but he is also laid-back and kind of a jokester. Something that has always clashed with our mother’s perspective of the world.
I am sometimes worried that it will bring him problems in the future. The world we have grown up in is rotten, full of prejudice and ill intentions. While my brother is well aware, he very often still prefers to believe in people’s good side instead.
“Dinner’s ready,” I inform them, leading the way to the dining hall. “This way, please.”
Entering the room, we’re all silent and speechless.
After years of working for my aunt, I knew my knowledge and abilities were on point, but this…Camilla certainly outdid any expectation I had.
There are fresh flowers as the centrepiece of the table. A hue of dark green, white and different blues takes over. From there, I can detach three specific flowers: larkspur, sweet peas and baby breaths.
It goes well with the neoclassical decoration of the room. It’s essentially light in white and creamy shades with a few specks of blues and gold, giving it some personality. At first sight, it brings you back a few millennia, making it look like we're inside a Greek temple due to the Ionic columns that rise to the ceiling, between the glass doors that lead to the main garden.
The ceiling is covered in this beautiful trompe l’oeil painting, giving the illusion of a sky-opened dome. The same shades continue from the ceiling, down to the gold-embroidered turquoise curtains that are draped over the glass doors. A perfect balance between the three colours.
I would have asked for this if I had an important visitor, like a government official or a diplomat, not a small and simple family dinner with my mother and brother.
“Wow,” Edgar comments first.
Yes, wow.
“I guess it will do,” my mother’s voice comes out condescendingly, and I have to suppress some kind of retaliation. This won’t just do, and she knows it, but it is not the time nor the place to tell her about it.
Sarah Byron was the daughter of a Viscount who married up in the hierarchy with my father. She might not have been so up in the lather from the beginning, but she surely was able to keep the part and has been ever since.
Duchess Sarah Hawthorne is quite demanding. And will always be.
Not feeding into the moment, I head towards the long rectangular table, and sit down at the head of it. My seat is sided by two plates, one on each side and both family members join me, sitting down as well.
Right on cue, as soon as we’re all set, Camilla enters the division. Her stance and energy are completely different from the one this morning.
Professional and cold. The same way she used to deal with Eleanor.
“Good evening, Your Graces,” she starts with a bow, stealing me a glance before continuing, “The staff has prepared a three-course meal for you tonight.”
She stops, waiting for me to give her the okay to continue, which she gets from my nod. “First off, we’ll serve the drinks. Upon the duke’s request, we have three choices of wine. All Portuguese table wines from the Alentejo area. The red is strong and fruity with a few hints of the oak barrels from the ageing, while the white is fresh and dry. The last is a light rosé with some fresh hints of pomegranate and strawberry.”
“White, please,” I request.
With a little bell in her hand, a waiter enters with a white wine bottle in hand, heading straight to me.
“I’ll have the same,” Edgar seconds me.
“I’ll have the red, instead.”
“Mother,” I start. “I think the white’s the best choice for tonight’s dinner.
“Nonsense,” she answers. “Red wine goes with everything.”
With a nod, Camilla rings the bell again, a slightly different sound from the first ring, letting me know how the sounds are all coded for the waiters to know which wine they’re supposed to serve. Brilliant.
“As soon as you give me the order, I’ll introduce each dish that is to be served before the waiters bring them out.”
“You can start,” I tell her.
“First is the starter. Scallops with Spanish chorizo and hazelnut picada.”
Once she finishes explaining the dish, she bows, and with a quick bell swinging, three waiters enter, serving us the starter while she retreats from the room.
Seeing her so secure in herself and her job is captivating . So hot.
And the way everything is so well done and organised. My aunt did a great job. Not even my mother can point a finger at this.
The scallop shells are served on an intricate plate. Inside, it’s seasoned with a red sauce and some chorizo pieces and topped with minced hazelnut. My nostrils flare as soon as the scent hits my nose, and I feel myself salivate.
Edgar digs in, not even following our mother’s protocol when starting a meal. She sighs, exasperated, and I take it as a cue to start eating, too.
The starters are gone in less than five minutes, and it tasted as good as it smelled.
“I am hiring your chef to our house, Vince. This food is delicious!”
“I know.” That’s all I can muster.
“Did you choose the menu, darling? The food is delicious.”
“I left Camilla in charge of that. And I was right to trust her,” I answer.
Before my mother can answer, the servers come back in to collect the starters, and Camilla follows right behind them. Once we’re alone with her, she straightens her back, with her hands folded in front of her and starts introducing the main dish, “I took the liberty of asking for this specific dish, in hopes you will like it since it was the duchess’ favourite. It’s broiled salmon with a Thai sweet chili glaze. The salmon is marinated in sweet chilli, soy sauce, and ginger. On the side, there are some grilled vegetables and boiled potatoes. Bon Appetit,” she wishes in a perfect French accent, and again, exits the room once again.
“Salmon?” my mother hisses.
“I wanted salmon today; she only chose how it was cooked.”
With a huff, she starts to eat first. Promptly, her face turns red as she struggles to chew it. Her nose crinkles when she finally swallows the food.
“This is spicy,” she exclaims, quickly fetching the glass of water right in front of her.
“That’s what she said,” Edgar comments with a smirk, and all I can do is glare at him.
Is it that spicy? Sweet chilli usually has a little spice, but it’s very light. When I bring a piece of the salmon to my mouth, there’s an explosion of flavours swirling in it, overwhelming my taste buds. The salmon is fresh and juicy, and the marinate makes the flavour even richer than I expected. It is spicy, but only slightly, and the grilled vegetables balance that part of the dish quite well.
“It’s mouth-watering.”
“No,” my mother shakes her head. “This is not the kind of dish we traditionally eat. This is not our kind of food.”
I lock my jaw at her dismissive behaviour. The food is exceptionally good. Sure, it is slightly different from what we’re used to, but Camilla did exactly what I asked of her. A main dish with salmon, and it tastes divine .
“I love it,” Edgar adds.
“I can’t win with you two,” she grumbles, eating around the salmon. “Well, moving forward…when will you start thinking about settling down or choosing a possible wife?”
I almost choke on the piece of salmon at her words.
“There was a mutual agreement that we’d be doing this at my pace,” I comment. “Why the sudden change?”
“Well, you’re duke and second in line,” she informs me of what I already know. I arch my eyebrow in question. “It’s only right to have a wife. If you become king, the pressure for offspring will be strong after the current king’s failed attempts.”
“Well, whatever my fate is, either staying as duke or becoming king, I will get married when I feel ready to do it.”
“Vincent, that’s not how it works–” I cut my mother off by raising my hand.
“I don’t care. I am the duke. I decide.” Taking the thick serviette to clean my mouth. “And if I become king, I will decide then. You can expect me to fulfil my duty, but I will do it my way and on my own time,” I inform her of what she already knows. “Especially now that I need to manage all of aunt’s belongings, see what I want to keep or donate, and how I can merge her economies and the small wine business she had into our corporation. I’ve got a lot on my plate,” I voice, looking at my empty plate.
“Well, I can’t force you, can I?” she snickers.
A frown is etched onto her face, letting me know she’s not happy with the outcome of this conversation. But I couldn’t care less right now.
“Your Graces, sorry to interrupt…Was everything alright? Did you enjoy the meal?” Camilla’s voice chimes in from the opposite side of the table.
“Ye–”
“No.” Once again, Duchess Sarah Byron strikes, cutting me off. “We’re not at an Asian restaurant. This should have been a traditional dinner where my son’s favourite would have been served. Like meatloaf, for example, instead of this.”
It’s crazy she still thinks meatloaf is my favourite when it was my father’s…
“I am very sorry to hear that, but His Grace, the duke, specifically told me he wanted salmon for dinner,” Camilla answers with a calm and even voice.
“Well, it wasn’t to–”
“It was wonderful, Camilla. Thank you so much for this meal,” I cut my mother off before she can escalate things. “I am rather full, so we won’t be eating dessert at the moment. Can you box a couple so they can take it with them and taste it later?”
“Of course, Your Grace.” She bows.
Just as she’s turning around to leave, my mother’s voice stops her in her tracks.
“We won’t be taking it with us. Don’t bother.”
Camilla’s face falls slightly, but she manages to maintain a tight-lipped smile before excusing herself from the dining room.
“Mum, I wanted some of that mysterious dessert,” Edgar whines.
“Why are you being so rude? The girl did nothing wrong.”
“Working for your aunt is enough to make me dislike her. Plus, she has to understand she has to do things our way now!”
“No,” I counter. “She has to do it my way, and I was pleased with dinner. It was what I asked of her. I only asked for a main dish. She added a starter and a dessert. She was one hundred percent effective in the task I gave her this morning.”
“But you need to–”
“It’s my bloody estate!” I boom, finally out of patience. “I know what I am doing; you made sure of it. I have been taught all my life how to be self-sufficient, independent, and able to manage finances, estates and, so much more. You have your house to worry about. Let me worry about mine!”
Even Edgar is looking at me wide-eyed by the time I finish. It’s the first time I’ve even spoken against my mother, but this was due sooner or later.
Not only because of her deprecating behaviour towards an innocent woman, but her smothering habits are maddening. I’ve had enough.
“Camilla, would you accompany them out?” I request. I know it’s probably a lot to ask since my mother has been bullying her since the dinner started, but I have no more energy for this. “I have work I need to finish back in my office,” I grumble before standing up, not even waiting for an answer from either one of them.
If she continues to act like this, she won’t be visiting that often.
“Vincent Hawthorne, don’t you da–” Her voice is muffled by the slamming of the door behind me.
It quickly fades as I climb the stairs and disappear into the far corridor that leads to my office.