Page 9 of Hawthorne

“Let’s go,” he says, and I gasp again when his hand touches the small of my back, guiding me forward. “Before the lift decides to leave without us.”

If he felt the need to clean my touch off of him, why is he touching me again?

Why am I even dwelling on this? He’s a duke. I’m a commoner, working as a housekeeper. If that doesn’t scream two different worlds, I don’t know what does.

But all of that isn’t enough to override the pull that draws me closer to him. There’s this energy surrounding him that makes everyone want to have a taste, and I am certainly not immune to it.

To try and make this awkward moment of just the both of us inside this metal container less intense, I break the silence, answering his rhetorical question.

“I have been wondering the same thing, Your Grace. I shouldn’t be here…The only thing I hope is to keep my job,” I confess.

“Why would you lose your job?” He frowns.

“Why would I be able to keep it? I am sure the person getting the house won’t want a stranger they don’t trust, knowing oftheir personal life and taking care of their new house. Especially when I am so used to doing things the way the duchess wanted.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be so quick to judge,” he looks down at me, and I sigh.

“I am not judging, Your Grace. I’m just taking into account a possible outcome,” I answer, my voice thickening with each word. I quickly clear it, not letting the emotion get the best of me.

His face locks in an empty glare, facing the floor with his jaw tensing. What is he thinking? Did I offend him?

This man is so hard to read…

There’s a heavy tension irradiating off of him, and the lift suddenly feels suffocating. The silence only adds to this straining moment.

It’s not hot inside, yet it feels scorching, with my body sweating in all possible and impossible areas.

When the lift pings, letting us know we have finally arrived, I let out a breath of relief. My legs take on a life of their own, moving fast towards the second reception.

“Good morning,” I greet the pretty blonde girl behind the desk.

She gives me a bored look that suddenly changes when I feel a presence hover behind me. Her eyes widen, cheeks blush, and her expression morphs into a seductive smirk.

“Hello, Tisha.” His voice sounds melodic, confident, strong, and slightly smoky. “Harry is waiting for us. We have a meeting.”

She nods eagerly and stands up, preparing to show us the way.

I jump forward when, once again, an unexpected hand finds the small of my back, guiding me through the corridor.

“Your Grace, I am honoured to have you here.” A short and skinny man greets us by one of the doors. When he looks at me, he smiles kindly and lightly bows his head. Weird. “And I assume you are Camilla White. What a pleasure.”

I return the same kind greeting, and soon, he hurries us inside his office, locking the door behind us. I will my body to move, only to stop short upon watching the duke pull back one of the chairs, looking at me expectantly.

“Here.” He tuts, his eyes pointedly looking between me and the chair.

With shaky legs, I do what’s expected of me, lowering onto that damned chair while he gently pulls it forward.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” I express my gratitude, not daring to look him in the eye.

The duke doesn’t answer, but he does sit right by my side while the attorney takes his place opposite us, on the other side of his desk.

“Let’s get started then,” Dr Harry declares, picking up a sealed envelope and opening it up in front of us.

The attorney’s monotone voice rings in my ears, telling me of the duchess’ information that I know like the back of my own hand.

Every time I took her to a doctor’s appointment or anything of importance, I had to recite her name, age, birthdate, and birthplace. This time around, not only that but also the reciting of who she was married to, of the fact she had no direct offspring, and thus the decision to leave all of her belongings, properties, and titles to that specific person.

Hearing all these things makes my eyes sting and blink frantically, trying to get rid of the tears threatening to run down my face. She is gone.

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