Page 32 of Beneath the Beastly Duke's Mask
“No, only you will do,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her snippiness.
“Very well,” she replied. “How may I help you?”
Basil could see why Henry liked her. She was an adorable vixen—if there could be such a thing. A siren posed as a harmless faerie. A fallen angel pretending to be righteous—his favorite kind.
“You're trying to seduce the duke,” he said, not wasting time getting into the conversation.
She closed her eyes briefly, hiding their pretty honey color. Basil wished she would smile at him at least once. However, if he asked, she would probably refuse him. He didn't like that she felt she had therightto deny him. She was a commoner, and he was a viscount—she needed to learn her place.
“I assure you I am doing nothing of the sort,” Arabella told him. “I am here to work—that is all.”
She appeared annoyed but was trying to hide it behind a calm facade. Mirabel tended to show her feelings. Basil assumed Arabella's upbringing kept her polite despite her irritation. She would have received lessons on how to be a lady from her mother, which explained how she carried herself.
“You say you're not here to seduce him, but I know better,” said Basil. “I only wish to tell you that you will not succeed in your plans. I will ensure my cousin doesn't fall for your tricks. No matter how pretty and tantalizing you are.”
His slow perusal of her body made her shift uncomfortably. Other maids welcomed his attention—she didn't.
"I do not know what you have heard or where you've heard it," she began, her hands tightening on the archery equipment, "but I have no intentions of seducing the duke. It's the furthest thing from my mind. I respect him as my employer, and I'm glad to have the opportunity to work here. I would not believe everything you hear."
Arabella was rather convincing, but Basil knew better than to fall for lies from women like her.
“We will see, Arabella,” he said.
This time, she did roll her eyes, almost making him laugh. It was cheeky of her, and she knew it.
“Please excuse me, my lord,” she said. “I need to put this away and return to my duties.”
“You go ahead and do yourduties,” he said.
She curtsied before him and walked away, her shapely body keeping his eyes trained on her. It was a while before he looked away and returned to his horse.
Chapter 12
A soft breeze entered the attic room, flowing across Arabella's exposed skin. She had flung her legs out of the blanket some time ago and placed a pillow under her knees for added comfort. Her nightgown had risen above her knees, and it was thankfully sleeveless, allowing her to appreciate the night breeze. She should be asleep, but her mind was too occupied to rest.
Arabella looked over at Jane, smiling at her soft snores. Some days, they were louder, but Arabella didn't mind. Her father had been a loud snorer, nearly making the entire house vibrate with the noise. Part of her had missed the nightly noise, so having someone who snored sharing the room with her was welcomed. However, instead of the noise lulling her to sleep, it only kept her awake.
Sighing, she pushed the flower-patterned covers off completely and sat up. Lying in bed wasn't doing her any good, but perhaps a walk would. She put on her gown and slippers, taking a candle before making her way downstairs. She didn't take the servants' stairwell as no one would be about on the main staircase.
Arabella could go downstairs, out through the backdoor, and into the garden. The alcove would be the perfect place to do a little stargazing, which would possibly put her right to sleep. The moon wasn't out, so the stars were brighter than usual.
Tiptoeing downstairs, Arabella paused when she heard a whimper. She waited for a minute but didn't hear it again. She resumed going down the carpeted staircase, avoiding the areas that creaked loud enough to wake the dead. A moan, this time louder than the first time, had her go back to the previous floor and down the landing toward the noise.
It didn't take her long to realize the sorrowful sound was coming from the duke's room. Concerned, she knocked on his door, worried something was wrong. No answer. The duke whimpered again; this time, it sounded like fear.
She hurriedly opened the door, finding him thrashing in bed. She took a step toward him and abruptly stopped. Arabella shouldn't be in his room. If anyone were to see her... She shuddered to think what they would think or say.
She turned to go, only to freeze in place at the gut-wrenching moan that sounded like it came from the very depths of him. He was having a nightmare and a very distressing one at that. His body and face were contorted as though he was in terrible pain, his limbs restless as they moved. Half his pillows had been kicked off the bed, and one of his legs had a light blanket wrapped tightly around it.
He had to have been thrashing about for some time. Arabella wanted to comfort him, but touching him was out of the question. No amount of good intention could explain away why she had touched her sleeping employer.
Everyone would believe what Mirabel had said, and she would be promptly thrown out of the house. Arabella couldn't let that happen, but she couldn't just leave the duke to suffer. It was agonizing trying to decide what to do.
Gnawing on her lower lip, she finally reached an acceptable decision. Truman was the duke's valet. If anyone could easily help the duke, it would be him. She turned away, hoping the valet was a light sleeper.
“Wake up!” the duke suddenly cried, the fear in his voice turning her around.
“Your Grace?” she said, scared he had caught her and was about to scold her.
