16
Camilla White
“ G ood morning, Your Grace,” I greet the duke’s mother as soon as I open the door for her.
The Duchess is— as always —in her perfect posh outfit. To top it all, one of those expensive little hats that don’t even protect the head from the sun is on her hair. The kind that nobility think is fashionable.
They’re hideous and pointless.
“Where’s my son?” She asks, pushing past me and forcing her way into the manor.
“The duke has already been informed of your presence, Your Grace,” I start, and she glares at me, probably for not telling her where he is and letting her just head over, as if this was her house.
She knows better than anyone all the kind of formalities we’re told to go through. It doesn’t matter if she is the duke’s mother.
“The duke asked me to escort you to the visitation room while he was wrapping up a few things from work. He shouldn’t be long.”
“He is in the office?” she dismisses my words and his direct orders. “I’ll meet him there, then.”
Once again, her shoulder bumps mine. This time, with a little more force than was needed, and she heads to the staircase. She’s trying to prove a point—that she is above me.
It’s a pointless power move because I know very well what my role is in this hierarchy. The bottom of the bottom.
Still, I follow the orders I have received.
“Your Grace, the duke was very clear about—”
“I don’t care what you say my son has said.” She glares at me. “You will not order me around.”
With that, she turns her back to me and starts climbing up the stairs.
“I’m the one ordering, not her,” he calmly comments from the top of the stairs, stunning me in place and halting his mother’s movements.
The duke is standing at the top of the staircase, dressed in a classic white button-up and dark grey slacks. At first look, he seems relaxed, with his hands inside the front pockets. But as my eyes wander around his figure, I can see the authoritative stance in him, with legs slightly apart, a serious expression and a quirked eyebrow that yells, “Dare to defy me.”
“I was very clear indeed. We’re to meet in the visiting room.”
I can’t help but press my thighs together at the sight of him like this, so assertive and authoritative. Memories of the things we’ve done together, of what he’s done to me, flood my mind. My heart pumps faster, heating my body.
Especially my cheeks.
“And I was going to meet you in your office,” she still defies him, cutting—just slightly—my intrusive dirty thoughts.
“Am I not the duke?” he questions, and she doesn’t answer.
Vincent takes it as a sign to start climbing down the steps until he reaches her. There he extends his arm out to her. “Let’s go, dear mother.”
She huffs but still intertwines her arms around his. When they reach the bottom of the stairs, she lets him guide her to the room where she was supposed to be in the first place—waiting for him.
“Camilla,” the duke calls, turning his head back to me.
He pauses slightly, eyeing me up and down with a knowing smirk on his face, making me gulp in response. It affects me, and he knows it, of course.
“Bring us the tea and biscuits please,” he asks politely with a tiny hint of that husky and seductive tone he used on me last night.
His mother doesn’t even turn around to spare me a second glance, and that’s reason enough for Vincent to wink at me before disappearing with her into the room, leaving me all hot and bothered in the main hall.
The moment I step into the visiting room with a tray filled with biscuits, scones, cream cheese, jam, and a few dried fruits to accompany their Earl Grey tea, their conversation stops.
“Thank you, Camilla,” Vincent says, keeping his heated gaze on mine.
I look away as I place the tray and start to assemble the couple of plates with the biscuits, scones, and tiny bows with the jams. Without even waiting for me to finish, the duke takes his cup but not without earning a scoff from his mom.
“Would you please let her do her job? Isn’t that what she’s here for?”
Fortunately, he ignores her, taking her cup and placing it in front of her. I rush to grab the teapot before he does and serve them both. Once everything’s set, I grab the tray back and bow to both of them, eager to leave the room.
“I’ll be close by if you need me.” And then I scurry out of the room.
As soon as the door shuts, the duchess’ voice sounds again.
“Why don’t we celebrate back home?” his mother asks in a whiny tone.
“Because I live here. I’d prefer if we celebrate it here.”
“Fine,” she concedes, “but on one condition.”
“What now, Mother?”
“I am in charge of organising it.”
Dear Lord . She’ll make my life a living hell, that's for sure.
“No.”
It’s not enough that it'll be my first Christmas all alone, I’ll have to be working under her orders.
“It’s non-negotiable.”
“Why are you adamant in doing this?” Vincent questions, seemingly aggravated.
“Oh, I’ll invite Eleanor. She’ll be delighted to see you again.”
She’s avoiding the subject… and who is Eleanor?
“No. We broke up years ago and for a good reason. Let’s just leave it at that.”
She huffs but doesn’t seem to push the subject “I also came here for another reason. Word has come to me that the king’s wife is three months pregnant.”
“That’s amazing.”
I can hear the happiness in his voice from here. But why? That means he won’t be king. Does that make him happy?
“No, it isn’t. It means you continue to just be a duke,” she whines before starting on a full-on ramble. “And that’s more of a reason for us to establish our influence in the court. Our party has to be perfect and the biggest so far. Also, seeing you with Eleanor again will give everyone the idea that you’re settling down and will probably get married soon, securing your legacy—with heirs!”
My hand flies out to my mouth, trying to contain any involuntary sound that might come out. Her words race through my brain, registering the information.
Him getting married and having an heir . That’s what his mother wants to secure for him: a legacy.
It makes sense, and it’s exactly what’s expected of him, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t pierce right through my heart.
The last couple of days have made me forget the reality of Vincent’s life and our…situation.
It’s only lust and desire. Fleeting. Not for the long haul— at all.
So why does it bother me so much just thinking about it? No matter how true it is and how seeped it is into my brain, it always bothers me. It always deflates me.
It’s a fact—an important one that will define everything in the end—that tends to disappear from my mind whenever he’s around me, clouding my common sense.
“Mother, please. If I am not to be king, let me do things my way. You and Father have prepared me for this ever since I learned how to walk. Do have a little faith in me.”
“Alright. Alright, my dear.”
“Camilla?” Mariah’s low voice catches my attention. “What are you doing?” She quirks an eyebrow at my body plastered against the wall, right next to the division where the duke and his mother are.
“I was resting for a couple of minutes,” I lie. “I barely slept last night. I am facing the aftermath of a restless night.”
That is slightly more truthful.
“Want me to take over you for a couple of hours while you nap?” she asks, concerned.
This girl is too good and too innocent.
“No, the duchess is here,” I admit. “Maybe after she leaves. Thank you so much.”
“Oh, yeah!” She shudders. “That woman terrifies me,” she whispers as we head to the kitchen. “I envy your courage.”
I smile in understanding but don’t answer her. One thing Aunt Lizzie taught me from the start is that people can be cruel, and it doesn’t matter where they come from. We may never know a person completely, fully.
Especially when we’re working for blue-blooded people who were born with the world at their feet. With them, I’ll always be at a disadvantage. The walls have ears, and the windows have eyes. I may trust Mariah or everyone else in this manor not to tell what I say to anyone, but nothing will guarantee that will happen.
So, one thing is certain. I can dislike the duke’s mother as much as I want, but I won’t be sharing that with anyone.
The kitchen is buzzing with the staff preparing supper for tonight, according to the menu that the duke agreed for this week. I supervise everything and check in with the duke twice more to see if they need anything, but they dismiss me both times.
I notice Vincent’s lingering gaze on me, but try to ignore it every time, afraid that his mother will notice. Luckily, she’s engrossed in her conversation with him more than me, not understanding the lingering gazes or tension surrounding her son and me.
After two torturous hours, she finally leaves, and the duke retreats to his office. I use the remaining of my free time before dinner to take Primrose for a walk through the orchard. She’s still very uneasy around people, and with all of the workers still walking around the property, this time around, I distance myself from the manor.
Venturing a little through the property’s gardens, I let her run around and happily sniff her surroundings. She’s getting more and more obedient, quickly learning to stay and come whenever I call. She’s also heavily attached to me, often looking a little panicked whenever she doesn’t see me around.
“Hi,” a male voice sounds from my side, and I turn, slightly startled.
I wasn’t expecting anyone out here this late. Looking around, I notice I am quite close to the stables and see Karl, our stableman, standing close by, still in his working clothes, dirty after a day of labour.
My thoughts were consuming me so much that I didn’t even notice I was walking this way. Still, it’s late. He should have finished for the day.
Karl’s skin is glistening from sweat, and he’s sporting a small smile. With his shirt's sleeves hunched up to his elbows, he’s showing off his veiny, muscular arms. With short blond hair and blue eyes, he’s really easy on the eye.
Just a couple of years older, he’s in a situation similar to mine. Even though Karl never lived on the property full-time like I did growing up, his father often brought him to work, and when Quinton had to retire earlier due to dementia, Aunt Lizzie offered him the same job his father had, in case he was interested.
I don’t know where Karl worked before here, but he quickly accepted the job offer and has been here for around five or six years now. It was in Mrs Hawthorne’s interest to keep someone she trusted working with the animals, but also someone they were already used to. From what I’ve heard, Quinton has passed down his love for animals to his son.
“Hi, Karl,” I greet him before returning to Primrose, who seems to be barking at something in a bush. “What’s going on, girl?” I ask as I crouch next to her.
Behind me, I hear a sharp intake of breath and turn around at a sudden sound. I watch as Karl quickly reaches my side and crouches next to me. His cheeks are slightly tinged pink, probably from the hard physical work this job requires.
“Maybe a rabbit or a bird?” he questions, focusing on the bush Primrose is still sniffing and barking at.
“Oh, yes! I still haven’t understood if she likes them or wants to hunt them,” I chuckle, amused when she comes back to me, asking to be pet.
“Dogs will be dogs,” he chuckles before standing up, and I mimic him. “So, how’s working with the new boss?”
Shrugging one shoulder, I answer, “It’s almost the same as before. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious. Most of the staff don’t seem too worried about the change, but he does look like a cold, detached man,” he comments, pensive. “Since I am always here in the stables, I was just…curious.”
“Of course.” I smile in understanding. “I mean, he can be very assertive and authoritative if things don’t go his way, but in reality, he is pretty chilled about everything. As you must have realised, he hasn’t changed much since he arrived. The staff is happy to be able to keep doing things like they did before.”
“That’s true.” There is a small, awkward pause, but then he locks his eyes on mine and asks, “And how are you?”
“Me?” I ask, feeling my cheeks heating a little.
We have crossed paths many times, but Karl never spent too much time talking to me. Sometimes, it was only just a “Good Morning.”
“I am fine…” I trail off, focusing on Primrose for a second. She pays the both of us no mind. “And you?”
“Yes, I’m uhm…Alright. Yeah, alright!” He seems to struggle with his words a little bit. “I—” He stops himself, exhaling loudly.
Is he… I gulp, not knowing what to do. Karl has always maintained his distance and kept to himself. At first, I thought it was because his father’s illness was hard on him and he wasn’t in the mood to socialise with the rest of the staff, but could it be because he is extremely shy instead?
“Yes?” I prompt, hoping to encourage him to talk.
“Never mind,” he sighs at the same time his shoulders sag. “I’ll, uh, see you around.” And then, he just turns around and leaves.
I’m speechless and dumbfounded, looking at an oblivious dog still exploring her surroundings.
After a couple of moments of over-analysing these few moments together, I shake the thoughts away and call Primrose to follow me back home. As soon as I take a few steps, she shows up by my side, whining and trying to jump up, supporting herself on my leg. Knowing exactly what she wants, I scoop her into my arms and start the short walk back to the manor.
Not even a few steps forward, I coincidentally look up and notice, to my left side, on the noble floor of the manor, the floor-to-ceiling window that corresponds to his office. And to my surprise, it is not empty.
His well-defined shape shows up right in the middle. His legs are slightly apart, showing off that resolute, stable, immovable stance, with both his hands tucked inside his front pockets.
Did he watch us the whole time?
I look behind momentarily, watching the place I was just before with Karl. It’s still within clear visibility. Oh my god!
Focusing better on his face, as I slowly get closer, his face becomes clearer. The duke is certainly not happy. On the inside, my body bubbles in as much excitement as it trembles in anxiety. What will he think of the situation, even if it was just an innocent coincidence?