Page 24 of My Dark Duke

“The duke won’t care a fig,” Polly assured her. “He might have a dark reputation, but from what I know of him, his heart is kindandgenerous.”

“Were you acquainted before you came to work for him?” Lillian replied, with feigned nonchalance.

Her ruse was not a success, for Polly gave a chuckle.

“I moved in some of the same circles in which he moved,” she answered, “but I did not know him, inthatsense. From what I have heard, he is generous and kind to his lovers. You will not find one with a bad word to say about him, which is odd enough, for nothing can inspire a woman to hate a man more than sharing a bed with him.”

“Oh,” Lillian frowned; she had much to learn.

“How did you end up in this position, eh?” Polly prompted, looking at her with motherly concern.

“A sprinkling of chance, a dash of desperation, and an offer from a duke,” Lillian replied, lightly. Though Polly had treated her kindly, Lillian was not sure of her yet.

“Desperate women have done worse,” Polly consoled. “Though, if you are truly against the idea of being Thorncastle’s mistress, then tell him. I am certain he would not object to you returning home - nor would he refuse you coin, to see you safely on your way.”

Tears pricked Lillian’s eyes; she knew that Polly spoke the truth, but returning home was impossible. She might never set foot in Linton again, a thought which brought her great sorrow.

“We’re nearly there,” Lillian said brightly, seeking to change the subject. “I want nothing more than to rest with my feet up - who knew that shopping could be so exhausting?”

“Hark at you,” Polly chuckled, “You’ll settle in well to this life, I believe.”

It would not be difficult to become accustomed to a life of luxury, Lillian inwardly agreed, as she returned to her bedchamber to rest. The nagging fear which had haunted her since her midnight escape from Linton had subsided; while Lord Bailey still lurked in the shadows, he was not quite so fearsome to imagine without the worry of having to find food and shelter.

She indulged in a short nap, after which Polly woke her to see if she wished to bathe before the duke arrived.

“Did he send word that he would be here?” Lillian asked, as Maud, the new maid-of-all-work, lugged buckets of water to the tub in her dressing room.

“He did not,” Polly said, lightly, as she added a dash of bath salts to the water and set up lotions, potions, and creams on the dressing table. “But it is good to be prepared, just in case.”

Lillian made no reply to this statement. It irked her a little to think that her every move would be dictated to by the whims of the duke, though it felt ungrateful to voice this. Would she spend every evening preened and plucked and waiting for him to arrive?

Maud arrived with the last bucket of water. As she poured it gently into the tub, lavender scented steam filled the room.

“Would you like me to wash your hair, Miss Smith?” Polly asked, as she handed Lillian a bar of soap.

“Heavens no, thank you,” she answered. “I can manage from here. And, please, Polly, there is no need to be so formal. You may call me Lil-”

Lillian broke off, cursing herself for her slip of the tongue.

“Mary,” she clarified, quickly. “You may call me Mary.”

“I will call you whatever it is you wish to be called,” Polly winked, “And don’t fret; as a former actress I’m well aware that a lady might choose to adopt a stage name when she’s putting on a show. Ring the bell, if you require anything. The sheets for drying-off are on the dresser.”

Polly slipped quietly from the room. As the door closed behind her, Lillian allowed her robe to slip to the floor - along with the mask she had worn all day.

Over the course of one day her entire life had changed drastically - again - and she was weary from pretending to be someone she was not. Though, truth be told, she wasn’t entirely certain who she was anymore.

As the warm water soothed her muscles, she relaxed and allowed her mind to drift. The previous night had been forgotten, with the excitement of her shopping expedition, but now it was at the forefront of her mind.

As she soaped her body, Lillian was acutely conscious of how her body felt. Her nipples were pleasantly tender to the touch after Thorncastle’s attentions and, between her legs, her womanhood ached with longing.

Unlike last night, the duke was not there to assure her that these feelings were natural, and a sense of disquiet settled over her. She quickly washed each part of her body and, once she was done, she stepped from the bath, despite the water still being warm.

Once out, she dried herself with the soft, linen bath sheets, then wrapped herself in her robe. In the bedroom, she fetched her mother-of-pearl hairbrush from the bedside table and made for the chair by the fireplace.

She had just brushed out her thick locks, when a knock came upon the door.

“His Grace is downstairs, Mary,” Polly stated. “Do you need any help?”

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