“You may do as you like,” he said. “With your brother, and your music lessons. My son has had an unstable education until now, and if you believe this will help, I will not stand in the way.”
She breathed a sigh of relief… or she tried to. But with the Duke standing so close, with the way he looked at her, it was difficult to breathe. Her pulse raced, her legs trembled, and all she wanted to do was turn and run…
“Th – thank you,” she stammered.
“But I will be watching you,” he continued. This time, he leaned in, his face coming to within a few inches. His eyes stayed on her own, searching her… warning her, it felt like. “He is still my son, and while I trust you, that trust only goes so far.”
“You can trust me.”
“We will see,” he said. A smirk touched his lips. His eyes flicked to her own lips. “I do not like disorder, nor do I like unpredictability. Remember this, Miss Finch. And please, do not disappoint me.”
“I… I never would.”
He did not move. He did not look away. He stood over her, so close that she felt his breath trace her lips.
Alone as they were, Octavia again felt that same helplessness that she had the last time she was with him. She felt small and weak, completely at his mercy and vulnerable. And while she ordinarily hated feeling this way, in this singular instance…why does it not feel nearly so bad as it should?
“Is there anything else?” he asked her.
“N – no,” she stammered.
“Good.” His eyes flicked down her a final time, pausing on her lips. She held her breath, unsure what he was going to do, just as she knew she could not stop him… “That will be all.” With that, he turned and walked back across the office and took his seat.
Octavia balked and lurched as if she had suddenly been released from something that was holding her.
He watched her simply, hands folded on the desk, expression as emotionless as ever. “You may go now, Miss Finch. Night has come, and you remember my rule…”
“Y – yes,” she stammered desperately, finally tearing her eyes from the Duke. “I… thank you.” A final look shared between them, a final moment of feeling utterly helpless, and she turned and hurried from the room.
Once she was in the hallway, the door closed behind her, and Olivia collapsed into the wall as she struggled to take control of her breathing.
Her meeting had gone well; she had gotten what she needed, but there was something else about what had just occurred… a lingering sensation that she could not throw.
On the surface, the reason was obvious. She was scared of the Duke. She was nervous around him and terrified of displeasing him. But deep down, as she really considered how she felt, she knew too that it was something else.
For some reason, she wanted to displease the Duke, to upset him, just to see what he might do about it. It was a dangerous thought, and it was not something she could ever enact. And yet… somehow, she got the sense that he wanted her to try. That he wanted her to misbehave.
You need to be careful, Octavia. And most of all, you need to avoid the Duke.
Chapter Eight
“… a
nd do not give me that look,” Caspian Turner, the Duke of Amberhall snapped.
“What look is that, exactly?” Damien Harrington, the Duke of Wexford, replied innocently.
“Judgement. Mockery. A sense that there is a joke to be made, dangling from the tip of your tongue, and you are just waiting for the right time to launch it at me.”
“You got all of that from a look?”
“I am looking forward to the birth of my child. What of it?” Caspian snapped. “Is there something wrong with that?”
“Who says that there is?” Damien said with that same innocent smirk on his lips. “I am happy for you, Caspien. I have told you as many times.”
“However…” Caspien led his friend.
Damien chuckled. “However, I struggle to pair the words you speak with the man I used to know. I liked you a lot more when you were a miserable bastard like the rest of us. This whole being in love nonsense…” He scoffed. “It is bringing down my mood considerably.”