Page 16 of Beneath the Beastly Duke's Mask
“Do not get any ideas about her,” Henry warned him. “She is not a plaything.”
Basil lifted his eyebrows. “Very well,” he said, sounding amused. “If you feel that strongly about it. I didn't come here to flirt with servants, anyway. I'm here to find out how you are, Cousin. Has anything new happened? Other than hiring a pretty maid?”
Henry sat back in his seat, tilting his head to the side. Basil wasn't interested in knowing how he was. He was merely biding his time while his servants gleaned as much information as they could. Basil was never without a servant or two, but he didn't bring them because he needed them. The servants' job was to learn as much information as they could about the affairs of the estate.
Henry's cousin hoped to get his hands on some information that would either give him power over him or even get rid of him. However, the staff knew enough to deflect or give false information. Basil believed he was one step ahead of everyone, but Henry had more to lose than just the title. He had made a promise to the old duke to take care of the estate, and that was precisely what he was going to do.
If a better heir were to appear, Henry would gladly give up the dukedom and retire to the simple life he had always wanted. Henry didn't know if his dream would ever come true, but lately, he had been thinking about it more than usual. He wanted to find someone to love just like everyone else, a person who would look beyond his scars.
He inwardly sighed. Perhaps it was as people said, and he didn't deserve love, but he couldn't help but hold on to the flicker of hope Arabella had given him. If she could treat him like a normal man, then perhaps he might find someone to accept him as he was, and chase away his loneliness.
Chapter 6
“I have sunshine in my bowl, the moon in my cup,” Arabella sang to herself. It was a silly song she and her mother had created to while away the time when waiting for something. “But the one I truly want is the love of my soul. Dream—”
She stopped abruptly as she passed the foyer, realizing Viscount Kersey was standing there. It was as though he were waiting for someone. He looked at her and smiled, the look in his blue eyes making her skin crawl.
“My lord,” she said, bobbing slightly.
She had no intention of standing around to have a repeat of what happened in the parlor. Arabella didn't appreciate anyone grabbing her out of nowhere and looking at her like a piece of cake about to be devoured.
“Just a moment, Arabella,” he said, stepping toward her.
Arabella took an immediate step back. “What can I do for you, my lord?” she asked, forcing a smile.
Viscount Kersey's eyes slowly raked her from top to bottom, his gaze appreciative. “You are too pretty to work as a maid,” he said. “Why don't you come and work for me? I'll give you a better position. I'll even pay you more than you earn here.”
Arabella's eyes widened slightly. She may be unmarried and never courted, but she knew a lecherous soul when she saw one. Her mother had warned her against men who looked at women like objects, whose eyes glowed with the wrong type of appreciation. Lord Kersey was the epitome of what her mother had described.
“Thank you for your offer, my lord,” she said. “However, I am perfectly happy here. Please, excuse me.”
She bowed her head and moved to the side, but Lord Kersey stepped closer to her, barring her way.
“Not so fast,” he said. “It seems you do not know your place, Arabella.”
Arabella had to smile. She knew what he meant—she refused to obey him—but she would pretend otherwise.
"I'm a maid in His Grace's house, my lord," she said. "I am very much aware of my position, and I am thankful for it. I enjoy working here very much."
Lord Kersey's lips thinned. “I can see intelligence reflected in your eyes, Arabella,” he said. “Usually, I don't like intelligence in women because it puts ideas into their heads, but you're pretty enough for me to ignore that. However, what I cannot ignore is how you blatantly forget who I am. You have no respect for your betters, sweet one.”
She flinched slightly when he touched her cheek with a finger, trailing it along her jaw. Arabella contemplated biting his finger, but that likely wouldn't end well.
“Take your hands off my servant,” the duke said, appearing in the foyer. “Come here, Arabella.”
Wonderful relief flooded Arabella. She pushed the viscount away and ran to the duke's side, hiding behind him.
“Why do you seem so incensed, Cousin?” the viscount asked. “I was just speaking to Arabella and getting to know her a little better. I come here quite often, so it only seems normal, don't you think?”
The duke ignored him and turned to her. “Go, take care of your chores,” he said, his tone brooking no argument.
Arabella would have never disobeyed him, so he needn't have used that tone with her. However, she belatedly realized he wasn't angry at her, but the viscount.
“Yes, Your Grace,” she said, curtsying before she left.
She quickly walked away but didn't go far. Arabella stood hidden in the hallway, leaning against the wall shared by the foyer. She wanted to hear what the duke would say.
“I have warned you before about harassing my staff, Basil,” the duke said. “What do you not understand by the word harass? Do I need to give you the definition?”
