by Abby Ayles
“The pleasure is mine, Your Grace,” she croaked. “I too enjoyed our time together, very much.”
She chided herself as the words left her mouth, only then realizing how intimate she sounded. Anyone listening could easily misinterpret her meaning.
She looked at him then, not certain whether to take those words or explain herself, and that was when she saw it; a twinkle in those obsidian depths.
She had never thought she would ever see any light in them, had never imagined they would look so lovely it would render her breathless.
By heavens, she had never seen eyes shine so beautifully.
“I am happy to hear that. Well then, I must not keep you any longer. I wish you an even lovelier evening.”
“Thank you. Goodnight, Your Grace.” Her words came out in a whisper, but it could not be helped.
Thankfully, he said nothing more. He simply turned and walked away from her.
Judith stood there, watching him go as she tried to recover from her daze. Eventually, when he turned the corner at the end of the hallway, disappearing from her sight, she felt her legs working again.
Not wanting to linger any further, she picked her skirts and went into her chamber. She rested against the door as she closed it, taking time to catch her breath.
It was not long before she realized she was not alone.
“Amy! How long have you been in here?” she asked.
“Not too long. I stepped in a little while ago to help you prepare for dinner. When I saw you had not returned, I was going, but I heard footsteps, then voices.”
“How much did you hear?” Judith asked, alarmed.
“Not much. When I ascertained it was you and the duke, I came to sit here, by the window,” Amy answered.
Judith heaved a sigh of relief. Of course, she was going to tell Amy what had happened. She simply would rather she had the chance to choose how much to say.
“I suppose I now know where you have been all day.”
Judith scoffed as she began to walk further into the room. “You’re one to talk. You are hardly ever by my side these days.”
“Only because I have been busy helping the other servants as a way of showing my gratitude,” Amy responded swiftly.
“Well, you are here as my maid and escort; you should be helping me.”
“And I do. Am I not always here whenever you need me?”
“Only after I have gone through the trouble of looking for you,” Judith retorted.
“Come now, my lady, do not tell me you are at odds with me? Very well, I have heard all the words said, and unsaid, and I shall endeavor to serve you better. Will you forgive me?”
Judith stared at Amy’s adorable face and those enchanting amethyst eyes. How could she ever hope to stay angry?
She gave into the smile that had been tugging at her lips. “I was never offended, Amy, but it felt wonderful to tease you...”
Amy’s eyes narrowed as she bobbed her head slowly. “Ahh … I see. Teasing me now, were you? And such a clever way to avoid the question I asked. Come, come, we must get ready for dinner. In the meantime, I want you to tell me all about your day.”
“You seem very concerned,” Judith murmured.
“And why ever would I not be? As you have rightly pointed out, my lady, I am your maid. It is my duty to be concerned about you.”
Judith knew there was genuineness in Amy’s words. She also knew her maid was simply eager to know what had ensued between herself and His Grace.
“I see,” she answered, saying nothing more as she started to undress.
“So?” Amy asked again.
Judith gave her no response. She took her sweet time, preparing what to say. It wasn’t until after she had put on her evening dress and was sitting by her vanity that she began to confide in Amy.
Judith told her of how she had found the duke on the pianoforte and how they had spent the entire day playing together.
She told of his wish to escort her back to her chamber and the kiss as he bid her goodnight. The shine in his eyes, his mesmerizing words, and all the ways he had made her feel.
“I don’t know what to think, Amy,” she said as she ended her tale. “I cannot entirely explain these feelings he stirs in me. What do they mean? Why him?”
Amy heaved a deep sigh. It was like releasing a breath one had held for too long.
For a moment, she said nothing.
When Judith would have called out to her, she finally spoke.
“My lady, if you would permit me, I must say, from all that you have told me, it is easy to see what malady has befallen you. I also believe it would not be too hasty of me to presume it is the same malady that plagues the duke.”
Judith’s brows furrowed in a frown.
“And since when did you begin to speak in riddles, dearest Amy?”
Amy smiled. “Not riddles, my lady. No, not at all. As you know, my years are well beyond yours.”
It was Judith’s turn to sigh as she gave in to the urge to roll her eyes. “Only two years, Amy.”
Amy’s response was quick. “Which is enough to know better.”
Judith could not deny the truth in that, so she said nothing.
“I do believe, my lady,” Amy continued, “That you care deeply for His Grace.”
Judith could not say that she did not suspect the same. Yet, hearing it said aloud was frightening. Her first impulse was to refute Amy’s claims.
“Care for him? However so? I hardly know the man. Today is the very first we have spoken more than a handful of words to one another since we arrived. There is nothing but gratitude in my heart for him.”
Amy’s response was a snicker, which displeased Judith even further.
“The lady doth protest too much, don’t you think?”
She would have replied if any witty words had come to mind.
“You say there is nothing in your heart but gratitude. I, too, feel gratitude, my lady. I admit that His Grace is a fine man, all the more handsome for the mystery that so evidently shrouds him. But I must say, my belly does not flutter when he is near. My heart does not tremble. I am curious, yes, but not overly concerned about what secrets he holds dear to his heart. I do not worry about him or spare him much thought when I am not in his presence.”
She paused to admire the work she had done with Judith’s hair. After a warm smile, she added, “Can’t you see? You care for him, and from what you have told me of his character and words today, I daresay, the feelings are returned. He cares for you, too.”
Judith broke into laughter. It was a gale, it was loud, but it was not quite from her depths.
When she recovered, she was quite as surprised as Amy by her outburst.
“My lady? Is all well?”
Judith dabbed at the corner of her eyes, drying the tears that had escaped.
“Certainly, Amy. It’s only … I could accept that perhaps, I have come to care for the duke, but I do not think he cares for me at all. He was simply being … gracious.”
“I see…” Amy said again. “Oh well if you insist. Who am I to say differently? At the very least, you have accepted the truth of your feelings, and it is now that you must be most careful.”
Judith grew somber as she caught the seriousness in Amy’s voice.
“How so?” she asked, truly needing to know.
“You have meandered onto a cliff, and you must take great care, lest you trip and fall.”
This time, Judith groaned as she rolled her eyes.
“More riddles, Amy?”
“Forgive me, my lady. You may think of it as poetry.”
“Indeed. In simple words, tell me, what do you mean?”
“Love comes from care, and now you know you care for him. If you are not cautious, it is only a matter of time before you come to love him.”
Love?
Judith had loved before. She loved her family, she loved Amy. Despite wanting to leave Charleveaux, she loved her home, as well. But none of them made
her feel the way the duke did.
As though Amy could read her thoughts, her maid added, “The kind of love that exists between a man and a woman, my lady. I do not suppose it is anything you have ever experienced.”
Judith looked at Amy then, holding her gaze as understanding dawned.
Love. The word resounded in her head, filling her with wonder.
Could Amy be right? Did this kind of love truly come next? And if it did, whatever was she to do?
Chapter 17
It should have been him, not Abigail.
Abigail would not have easily betrayed him so, for that was what he had done.
In his chamber, away from Lady Judith, his ghosts returned in the darkness, haunting him for his sins.
He had spent the whole day with another woman, sharing his music with her.
He had not shared his music with anyone since Abigail. After their marriage, he had played for her only, and, when she had conceived his child, his unborn heir had become his only other audience.
When the cold hands of death snatched them away from him, for many months, he did not play.
At first, he simply could not, as he had been bedridden, healing from all the physical injuries the accident had left behind. When his strength had returned, he had still refused to play, unable to bring himself to.
However, as the months turned into years, he found comfort only behind the pianoforte. It had become his special way of speaking with Abigail, feeling her presence and that of their child, who had never been born.
It had become sacred, almost a ritual, meant for only him and the family he had lost.
Yet, after one look at that woman’s face and he had forgotten all of that. He had invited her into his special place, and he had shared that sacredness with her.
If Abigail would never forgive him, and she would be within her rights.
He should send them away, Lady Judith and her maid, but he could not bring himself to do so. And it had nothing to do with being a man of his word.
Perhaps, he was learning to be selfish. Perhaps, he was simply tired of hurting.
He could not deny that he relished the warmth and light she brought to his life, the happiness, the comfort … how she made his heart beat faster.
He was only a man. A man who was starting to realize just how much he missed feeling something other than pain and sadness.
Three years.
That was how long it had been since the accident. Three years living in misery. He had mourned, he had wept. Was it not enough? Could he not allow himself this joy?
Even if it only lasted a little while.
Surely, Abigail would understand. She would come to forgive him.
And if she did, what about Judith?
He began to tremble as he heard that voice. The one that only spoke in his mind. He closed his ears, not wanting to listen, but he did anyway.
If Abigail would forgive him, would Judith? He knew more than anyone, the pain of losing a loved one.
Would he not be the cruelest of men if he let her come close, if he allowed her to love him, only to leave her forever in a few years?
He was not long for this world. He ailed still. His days were numbered, he felt it in his bones.
Perhaps that was all the more reason to revel in what joy he could in the time he had left.
Yet, it would be wickedness to bring pain to others, especially the woman he was starting to care for, in exchange for a few years of bliss.
What would he do? Was he destined to live in misery for the remainder of his life? Betided by woes? Why had fate brought Lady Judith to him? Why had it filled him with hope and a glimpse of the life that would never be his?
What great sin had he committed to suffer so?
His bones began to grow weak. He could hear them crack as they shrunk, causing him to curl into a ball.
It was coming again … the darkness that would one day claim him for good. He could feel it. It was near, so near.
Everywhere hurt. His joints ached. It was impossible to keep his eyes open.
The shadows were certain to be lingering and he could not look at them, would not.
His breath paused and he felt he didn’t have much time left. With the last ounce of strength, he could muster, he reached for the bell and rang it.
He would come, now. His friend, Thomas, would come.
Once he heard the bell, his butler would come running, knowing something was amiss. He would take care of his master—and all would be well.
For now.
Stephen continued to struggle through labored breaths, trembling still, teeth gritted lest he cried out in pain.
Just then, he heard the door to his chamber open and footfalls hurried to his side.
“Your Grace!” Thomas cried.
Those were the last words Stephen heard before his world went blank.
***
It was a dreamless sleep. No beauty, no ugliness. Only seemingly endless nothingness.
When Stephen finally came to, it was a new day and the sun was out, shining in all its glory.
Its golden rays spilled into his chambers from the open windows, telling him that Thomas had been there that morning to let in the light and air.
He slowly rose to a sitting position, careful not to upset the bones in his body that were bound to still ache.
Memories of the events of the night before flooded him and a sigh escaped his lips. It was a broken one, filled with despair.
The fits had started when he had first woken after the accident. He had slept for two weeks after they had found him in the wreck.
In those weeks, he had remained oblivious to the world around him, as he fought for his life.
Eventually, he had come to. He had awakened with no memory of the incident, for it was filled with such pain that his mind had forced itself to forget.
The physician and his staff had tried to shield him from the ugly truth.
However, as days went by and they would not let him leave his chambers or see Abigail, when he watched them speak in hushed whispers when they thought he wasn’t paying heed, as he saw the looks of pity and sadness in their eyes, he began to remember.
The accident, watching the woman he loved die in his arms.
That was when the darkness and shadows first came. It had been unlike anything he had ever experienced.
The pain, too great to bear.
They had all been thrown into confusion; Thomas, the physician, and the rest of the staff, who had been sworn to secrecy.
The physician had believed that the incident had been caused by the sorrow his heart had felt at remembrance. He had promised Stephen would never have to suffer that way again.
He had been wrong.
Stephen’s physical injuries healed, many of the scars faded. However, the inner darkness and shadows always returned.
Every time they did, they took away a part of him. The physician tried every form of healing he could think of. Alas, nothing kept the dark thoughts at bay; not for long.
Eventually, he had given up altogether and decided to wait until the day they would claim him for good.
As he stepped out of bed to begin his day, he realized with no particular joy that he had been given another chance, more time to live.
But to what end?
He went about his morning preparations, barely saying a word to anyone he encountered.
Eventually, when he had dressed for the day and was ready to leave his chambers, he first crossed to the window and looked out onto the fields, and the stables.
He saw her again.
His golden-haired angel, riding away on Enora, as though he had not scolded for doing the same only a few, short days ago.
Unlike the first time, he could not bring himself to feel anger. Yes, the worry and fear remained, but there was something else. Something beautiful, something whole.
He could not help but wonder if … if he really were being given another chance at life, would he not be fo
olish not to live it as he would?
Yes, he would.
Knowing this, he threw caution to the wind.
Half an hour later, he left his chamber in riding breeches and a jacket he hadn’t tried to fit into in three years, and which hung loosely upon his powerful frame.