Page 3 of Hawthorne

The poor waitress that was holding it scrambles to the ground to pick up the mess the other woman made, knowing she’ll be the one to blame.

“I’m sorry, Your Grace.” Mariah’s apology comes out rushed and panicked, squeezing my heart in sympathy.

With a few long strides, I reach them and try to assure the young girl, “It’s fine, Mariah.” And before someone else can speak, I add, “Fetch me something to clean this, please. I’ll take care of it from here.”

As expected, Eleanor is not happy and chimes in with a poisonous tone, “It’s not fine! She spewed all the drinks. It’s a miracle I wasn’t hit with anything.”

I grit my teeth and inhale, containing my temper. I’m used to dealing with obnoxious and entitled people, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t still get on my nerves.

“I am sorry, milady,” I grit out with the official term of her nobility level. Even though some are more powerful or above others, it’s common sense to useyour grace. It’s a way to show respect.

Except this woman does not deserve it after the way she treated one of Aunt Lizzie’s employees.

Eleanor narrows her eyes upon hearing the term, but all I do is give her a fake apologetic smile and add, “It’s Mariah’s first day, and she’s nervous. The girl needs the job,” I lie. “I am relieved you weren’t hurt and appreciate the grace of forgiving her mistake. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“No, thank you.”

I tremble upon the sound. It keeps me rooted in place and confused. Eleanor’s mouth opened, but the sound that just came out of it wasn’t her voice. It couldn’t be.

My suspicions are confirmed when none other than the duke shows up from behind me, placing himself by Eleanor’s side. The mere sight of him makes my breath hitch anew.

“Camilla,” he acknowledges before turning his attention to Eleanor.

Afraid he’ll be worse than her, I quickly start rambling, “Your Grace, I am sorry for what happened. I’ll be taking care of it right away.”

Those eyes that seemed dark a few minutes ago now look brighter. Reddish-brown irises glance at me before Eleanor catches his attention. Only, she catches mine, too.

“If you do as you did the rest of this event, please don’t bother,” Eleanor’s words cut through my chest like sharpened knives. “This is so boring.”

Boring?

It’s enough to make my blood boil and my temper blow up, the final nail in the coffin.

“I am sorry, ma’am,” I start, completely disregarding all of the terms I should be using to address her directly. “This event is to pay respect to my late boss, Mrs Elizabeth Hawthorne. Every setting and/or step has been followed according to her direction. I am afraid this boring event was not planned to pleaseyouor any other attendant but the person in question who is no longer with us.”

Eleanor gasps, and the duke’s eyes widen. It collides with the moment that Mariah returns with the cleaning tools. I extend my hands to her so she can let me clean, but she starts doing it herself.

Shit, I need an escape.

Looking at the time on my wristwatch, I notice it’s time for the main speech.

“Your Grace,” I turn to the duke. “It’s time for someone to do a speech in Her Grace Elizabeth Hawthorne’s honour. She had appointed you to be the one to speak.”

“Wait,” Eleanor interjects. “Vincent, you can’t seri-”

“Of course,” he cuts her off, completely disregarding her. Then, extending his arm, he hints at me to show him where his next destination is. “Lead the way.”

So, I start walking. What I wasn’t expecting was for him to walk by my side. And close.Too close.So close that our hands graze each other several times with each step we take. And it’s so intense that the mere touch is enough to make my skin tingle.

“You still got quite a mouth on you,Little Milla,” he whispers, his body slightly bent over mine with his mouth way too close to my ear.

In response, I jerk away, my head swivelling to the side to face him, and the only thing he does is…smirk.

Somersault.

Fluttering.

Shivers.

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