Page 20 of The Duke's Pet

There was a knock at the door.

“Ah, good.” His voice was louder now. “High tea.”

She sat, instinctively crossing her hands over her breasts.

“It is Mrs. Cook, do not worry about covering yourself.” He stood. “Come in.”

The door opened and Mrs. Cook bustled in carrying a tray. She set it on a table to the right of the door. “Can I get ye anything else, Your Lordship?”

He walked to the tray and studied it. “No, that is all.”

“Very well.” She held her hand out, felt for the door then exited.

Once they were alone again, the duke gestured to where Mrs. Cook had stood. “Poor thing sees only light and dark images, she lives in a world of shadows.”

“It doesn’t seem to affect her work?”

“She is slower than she used to be, and I have lost a few precious pieces of china, heirlooms, but I am not one to complain, she is a good soul. While she wants to continue working for me, she can.”

“That is kind of you.”

“I’m not so sure it’s kind. She knows I am a man who does not like to be disturbed when working, she does not poke around in my paintings and scientific observations, so her presence is pleasing to me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He lifted a jug and a saucer. He poured some milk into the saucer then set it on the floor. “Come and drink.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He smiled, one side of his mouth lifting a fraction higher than the other.

“You heard, crawl over here, like a little kitten, and drink your milk.”

Is he being serious?

The glint in his eye told her he was. He was also daring her to disobey him. Did he want her to? Did he want his little kitten to do wrong so he could dole out a punishment? And what would that punishment be?

Despite her myriad thoughts, Jemima made no move to crawl toward the saucer.

“I know you heard my instruction.” The tone of his voice had darkened.

“You want me on the floor? Crawling?”

“I know you are not deaf, so why would you question me?” His jaw tightened.

She looked at the saucer, then the floor.

He clapped suddenly, a loud smack rattled around the large room.

Jemima jumped.

“My hand will be connecting with your bottom if you do not obey this instant.”

Quickly Jemima slipped from the sofa and onto the rug before it. She went to all fours, hand and knees and looked at the blue and white saucer of milk he’d set at his feet.

She began to move slowly, her breasts hanging and her hair falling around her cheeks. Humiliation swarmed over her as though she’d sat on an ant nest. The carpet was scratchy on the tops of her feet and palms and the petticoat hindered her movements somewhat.

When she reached the saucer she also reached his boots. They were spotlessly clean as if rarely worn outside.

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