"Get out and wait for me in Lavinia's study."
"But I haven't finished bathing her."
"I said get out, and don’t make me repeat myself!" I snapped, pointing at the door.
"Who do you think you are to yell at my Nana like that?!" My daughter's sudden scream froze me in place. My eyes met hers—those deep brown eyes staring at me with... hate.
She practically ran downstairs, despite her age.
The Duke seemed like a man who didn’t hesitate. This was his domain, a place where he could kill anyone without blinking. A sudden wave of fear clenched my heart. It was best to stay far away from that rude, arrogant brute. If he hated Rossella, then that would be perfect.
"My lady..." Freya's voice snapped me out of my trance. I was standing in front of that door, having stared at the wood for nearly a minute.
"I know, Freya. I know..." With a trembling hand, I slowly turned the knob and entered my daughter's room.
The first space was an antechamber, set up as a small study, with a bookshelf behind a desk fitted to her size, and comfortable armchairs arranged before it. I walked as if my heart were galloping with a thousand horses inside me, sweating, my mind playing cruel tricks on me. Memories. I had to calm down.
But when I stepped into the adjacent bedroom, I didn’t find her there either. It was her room, but it wasn’t decorated like that of a ten-year-old girl. It was dry, serious—more like a room for an adult. Muffled voices came from a side door, along with the sound of running water.
I didn’t know why, but I approached quietly. She was bathing... or someone was bathing her. Yes, someone was bathing her.
"But... but I feel weird, Nana," I heard an innocent voice speaking. I pressed closer to the door, straining to hear.
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"Silly girl, boys are always more curious. You are very beautiful, Lavinia, but there are always things a girl must do to make them even more interested in her..." It was the voice of a woman. I frowned, listening closely.
"So... so if I let him do that, Theodore will be more my friend?"
"Of course. With how lovely you are, he'll be under your skirt in no time. He's a fine young man, very responsible, and he will take good care of you."
"What does it mean to have him under my skirt, Nana? Why would Theodore want to go there?"
"It's when a woman—" BAM! I shoved the door open, enraged. I hadn’t heard the whole conversation, but it was already far too inappropriate for an innocent child.
The blonde woman beside the porcelain tub turned to me, startled, a sponge still in her hand. Her eyes widened in shock at the sight of me, but then something shifted in her gaze, and she calmed.
"Duchess, I didn’t know you would be arriving, or I would have had Lady Lavinia ready."
No one spoke. The servants remained silent, their heads bowed, tense, and nervous. I forced myself to look back at him. When our gazes locked, I felt a chill run down my spine. His icy blue eyes were sharp, piercing—void of warmth, void of mercy. Masculine. Fierce. Cruel. But his contempt drowned out any hint of beauty in his savage features.
I was standing before the Duke of Everhart. Of that, I was certain. He hated me. Or rather, he hated Rossella... and now, I was her.
I tried to open my mouth... After months without seeing his wife—and even more so after she had supposedly left to "recover from an illness"—I assumed he would at least greet her, right?
"Your Grace."
"Get that thief out of my house and replace the carpet!" he commanded the servants, cutting me off and completely ignoring me. Without another word, he strode briskly back into his study and slammed the door shut, rudely.
I stood there like an idiot, perplexed and a little humiliated. Things were worse than I had imagined. What had my father used to blackmail the Duke into accepting a wife he didn’t want and recognizing a child that wasn’t his? Such an important detail, and Rossella hadn’t even known it.
"Mrs. Prescott, go and carry out the Duke's orders. I will go to my quarters alone," I dismissed the housekeeper.
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