Regency Romance Omnibus 2018: Dominate Dukes & Tenacious Women by Virginia Vice (62)

Chapter 1

“Don’t worry so much, Audrey. You’re qualified and prepared for this,” the older woman crowed to the pretty young girl sitting opposite her in the carriage as it jerked and jumped along the cobblestones. The trip from London had been a long one, and Audrey couldn’t stop herself from letting out a yawn, born just as much from anxiety as fatigue. Her knees bounced and her voice quivered as she listened to the hoof-clops along the road.

“Working as house staff for an important man is a big step up, from tending house at Uncle Gerard’s inn, aunt Bette,” Audrey’s voice quietly protested. Born of common stripe, one could easily mistake young Audrey for lost royalty from the look of her. With hair a long flowing auburn and fresh, milky skin, her emerald eyes beamed in hesitant excitement at the roadway outside the carriage. “I’m not certain I’ll know what to do. I wouldn’t want to do anything to let down a man like the Duke of McClellan.”

“The Duke of McClellan is a man like any other, which means he knows very much of power games and wealthy leisure, and very little of cooking dinner or cleaning the dishes,” Aunt Bette chortled in her gravelly voice. The cart rolled over a deep bump in the road, giving both of its occupants a quiet and surprised ‘oof’. “You listen to Agatha, and you’ll do exceptionally well. A young woman like you has a lot to gain, working in the household of a man like Lord Parris.”

Lord Parris. The name captivated young Audrey, her green eyes wide in the glow of fantasy. Growing up with a family of common folk bustling and breaking their backs to scrounge together enough coins for dinner each night, she had never imagined seeing the manor of a wealthy and powerful man, much less the estate of one of the most successful and influential members of England’s nobility.

“How long until we arrive?” Audrey questioned, her voice a velvety whisper, though her every breath hitches tight in her nervous throat. Aunt Bette regarded her cautiously.

“Now you’re quite excited to be working there, are you?” she smiles her churlish and gnarled old smile. “What’ve you got in your mind?”

“Curious,” Audrey sheepishly admitted, cheeks a burning red. “I’m merely curious about the man I’m working for.”

“Curiosity in the home of a man like Lord Parris can be a dangerous thing,” Aunt Bette warned. “I worked hard to secure this position for you, Audrey - Agatha and I are old friends, and it took her years to achieve steward of house staff for the McClellan estate.”

“You’ve reminded me,” Audrey sighed, accustomed to her aunt’s prattle. She loved Aunt Bette - life hadn’t been easy for Audrey, and her aunt had taken her in after both parents passed away from a bout of sickness. Still, the older woman loved to go on and on.

“I only remind you again to temper the next few words of caution I’ll offer,” Bette’s voice grew wary. “Lord Parris has quite a... reputation, and a deserved one,” she murmured, her voice slithering in contempt, barely audible over the clop-clop and groan of the wagon. Audrey’s heart froze - had the Duke committed some terrible deed? Was he greedy, disgusting, dastardly? Her joy about the job faded almost as quick as it had blossomed.

“What did he do?” Audrey answered reflexively, gulping hard. Aunt Bette’s nostrils curled and she crossed her legs.

“He’s done a whole lot,” she blustered, snorting like a bird, its feathers ruffled. “The Lord Parris is a virile young man, as far as nobility goes,” Aunt Bette snarled. Audrey, the poor thing, had plenty of experience helping Bette and her cleaning staff clear out Uncle’s inn rooms - but she had little experience with a certain, zesty side of life. Her head tilted, Audrey’s empty gaze brought a pained sigh from her aunt.

“He has a dastardly habit of taking certain liberties with the women in his employ - at any chance he can,” Aunt Bette’s language remained euphemistic - too euphemistic for innocent-minded Audrey. Dressed in her simple gown of black and white linen, Audrey remained confused.

“Liberties? Should I fear him holding out on paying me? I won’t let him walk all over me,” Audrey protested, summoning up all the courage her meek and mild-mannered young body could handle.

“Audrey, I mean quite a separate set of liberties taken,” Aunt Bette clarified. “He has a habit of using women,” she emphasized. “Using not just their talents in the realm of the domestic.”

“You mean he—” the truth dawned finally on sweet Audrey, who gulped down a sudden and startled breath, her cheeks burning bright-red. “A-Aunt Bette, I didn’t know— mean—” she stammered, naivete clear in her stunned expression.

“He enjoys the scandal,” Aunt Bette lamented. “And I’m certain he enjoys the sensation of pliable young bodies against his. I’m warning you of this because it’s not your place to fall in with royalty, Audrey,” Aunt Bette’s voice grew stern. “You can earn much working for royalty - including a good reputation. Should scandal fall on your name, only trouble will follow - and you’ll never be anything more to Lord Parris than a few nights of pleasure. There’s boundless promise before you, Audrey,” she opined whimsically, “and it need not be drowned in a sea of gossip, because of the lewd proclivities of the Duke of McClellan.”

“A-Aunt Bette, please,” Audrey begged anxiously, her voice soft and tiny. “I’m... I’m not the sort, not the sort of woman to... do... that,” she assured her Aunt. A girl of only twenty, Audrey had never indulged in the lust that so often took most men and women her age. Chastened, Audrey had thought occasionally of the night she would spend with a man she loved, and how only then would she give in to temptation - but she had no interest until then. Certainly not with habitual philanderers. Aunt Better regarded her warily nevertheless.

“I don’t take you for the sort to sleep with any man who offers, Audrey,” Aunt Bette warned, “but I do take you for the type to fall in love with a man of charm and forceful personality. Exactly the sort of man Lord Parris is. And fall in love you would, if he said the right words to you - but it would be a one sided love,” she continued, speaking perhaps from sullen experience. “A Duke, and a powerful man, could never give you what you need. You’d be at best a mistress, a toy for him to play with when he wished. You would love him dearly, and you would live miserable, knowing he couldn’t give you the love you want - and deserve, Audrey. You’re young, and sweet, and your heart is soft. Don’t let any man tread upon it, yes?” Aunt Bette pulled her shawl over her shoulders as the wagon took a hard corner, picking up speed along another straightaway.

The sun had begun to set over the broad moors and green fields in the distant edges of the McClellan lands. The carriage driver knocked on the small wooden door separating the two women from the outside world - as the sun fell, rainclouds began to move over the orange glow, casting ominous shadows long across the path ahead.

“Nearing the manor, loves,” the driver informed them, “an’ it looks like a storm’s waiting for us.” Audrey’s mind dwelt on her aunt’s words, worry creeping into her mind.

“I don’t want a man like that,” Audrey swallowed, reassuring her aunt. In truth, young Audrey had no concept of a Duke, ever loving her. Her family had loved her - and the nice boy who worked for the fishmonger had once admitted to loving her, but the concept was only a fairy tale to Audrey; the sort she would read in one of her mother’s heavy tomes, back at the inn, the only heirlooms her parents had left her.

“Because you’re a smart woman, Audrey. Don’t let your heart be used,” Aunt Bette cautioned.

“Aunt Bette, I’ve never...” she swallowed, both proud and a little ashamed at her admission. “I’ve never spent the evening with a man, much less a lord.” She had nary shared a kiss with a man, in fact, and had only held hands with one once, squeezing her friend Brian’s hand as the sun began to fall over the horizon, but that had been years ago. She maintained her innocence, even as the world grew dirty around her with age.

“I hope that you don’t intend to start now, then,” Aunt Bette responded. “Your innocence is a precious thing, girl. Savor it. And if the Duke asks you to a dance, kindly excuse yourself,” she bristled.

“A dance? What harm could come from a dance?” Audrey giggled.

“You’ll be on your own now, Audrey, and you’ll need to learn that when a man tries to spend time alone with you, especially a rake as scurrilous as the Duke of McClellan, his mind is on things other than your sweet personality, or how well you can clean,” Aunt Bette groused. “Now collect your things, lovely, we’ll be arriving at the manor soon.”

“What if his mind isn’t on other things?” Audrey asked anxiously. “Perhaps he’d simply like to share an evening with his staff, once in a while.” She gathered the small linen bags littering the inside of the cart - her clothing and effects, packed tightly, cramped inside the rickety carriage, the only one the family could scrape together the money to afford. “I certainly wouldn’t want to offend my new employer... and refusing such a request puts me in a difficult position.”

“Offense taken or not, you have your dignity and your future to concern yourself with. Use your instincts, Audrey,” Aunt Bette implored. “I should hope I’ve taught you a thing or two worth knowing in the time you’ve lived with me. You’re all we have left,” Aunt Bette’s roughened countenance broke for a moment, letting slip the concern in her heart for her niece. “I swore to my sister I’d make you a happy, smart and successful woman. I think I’ve succeeded,” Bette admitted, a tear on her cheek.

“You have,” Audrey whispered. “You’re right, Aunt Bette. And I’ll do what I have to to make you proud,” she said, a small tear on her own milky-white cheek. “And I’ll make uncle proud. And my parents.”

“Okay, ladies! End of the line!” The call of the carriage driver fell beneath the rumble of a thunderstorm breaking just over the horizon, the shatter of a bolt of lightning crackling into the two women’s ears. Hustling free form the tight carriage confines, Aunt Bette gazed warily at the storm rolling over the sunset-colored sky. With burlap sacks and linen bags full of effects thrown over her shoulders, Audrey stumbled from the wagon, nearly tripping and falling on the carriage’s broken stair.

“This isn’t the manor,” Aunt Bette snarled. Glancing up a long and winding path, up a steep grassy hill, Bette spied the familiar mansion - towering, its facade gleaming bright-white, reflecting the dying sun while harsh charcoal clouds shroud around it. “Carriage driver, can’t you take us up the roadway? It’s going to begin raining—”

“I was paid to drop you off here, and I’m dropping you off here,” the driver, a burly man in a black robe, yowled back at the two ladies. “Besides, storm’s rolling in, and I need to make it to an inn before night comes and it all falls down on top of my head.”

“We have a lot to drag up that hill,” Aunt Bette grumbled. “Can’t you—”

“You’d better get started then, yeah?” he snobbily quipped, crackling his whip against the horses and urging them down the road as another thunderclap filled the air.

A storm coming, heavy bags hanging from her every limb, Audrey Fisher’s first day of her new life didn’t appear to be shaping up very well.

“Let’s go,” Aunt Bette grumbled sourly, helping to drag some of the bags along the winding path.

Chapter 2

“Hello! Agatha! Agatha!” Aunt Bette pounded relentlessly on the front door to the manor, tall and flanked with stained-glass windows tinted a deep green. Rain soaked through their linens, clothes clinging to skin as the last rays of sunlight fell dim over the horizon and darkness began to seep into every corner of the land. And while the thunder roared and Aunt Bette pounded and cried out for her friend inside the mansion, all Audrey could see and think about and comprehend in her mind was how big everything felt. A bell tower, taller than anything she had seen since London; a mansion plastered a blinding white, with pillars like a Greek temple lending inscrutable class to the seemingly endless structure. With architecture trimmed in gold and marble more expensive than anything her family had ever owned, awed silence struck Audrey, the shock of surprise in her mind muting the loud patter of rain and dulling her feeling of the freezing chill woven up her spine by the rain, coming down in heavy sheets on top of her and her aunt.

The door finally cracks open, inhabitants cautious as specks of rain splash inside the foyer.

“Who’s there?” A stodgy voice called from inside. “We’ve no room for lodgers and travelers in this estate, so—”

“Agatha? Agatha, it’s me!” Aunt Bette exclaimed, relief in her tone. Audrey huddled beneath what little cover the flowerboxes and other attachments hanging from the floors above provided. The cold settled in and the luster of the manor wore thin as she glanced at her linen sacks, full of cleaned clothes - or, they used to be clean. Now, they lay soaked through with dirt-filled rainwater. She frowned. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all, she pondered.

“Oh! Dear, I hadn’t expected you today, with it being so late,” the voice behind the door croaked. “A thousand apologies, Bette - come in, come in! You must be drenched, with the rain.” The doors swing open in a foyer that could charitably be described as opulent. Paneled in carved marble and oak, cut into extraordinary shapes, gargoyles and lions and heroes lined every wall, trimmed in gold and carved carefully into each panel. Sofas upholstered with gold buttons and ornately designed in the finest styles sat casually, cluttered around gold-trimmed coffee tables, flanking a grand staircase carving through the center of the manor. A grand statue of a cherub greeted newcomers to the manse, its marbled surface bisecting the twisting staircase as it met the ground floor. The magic had begun to wear on Audrey, until the foyer reignited her entranced curiosity once more. She could barely catch her breath; the sweet scent of roasted peppers and cinnamon wafted through the hallways, with doors twice as tall as the small maiden lining each wall. Candles danced on each table, casting long shadows in the crevices of the manor, the storm growing rougher as the door slammed shut behind Audrey and her aunt.

“Audrey!” Aunt Bette called, shaking the girl from her trance.

“I-I’m sorry, Aunt Bette!” Audrey exclaimed, nearly tripping on the wet floor.

“This is the girl?” Agatha asked. A gray-haired woman with a daunting frame and a strong body, she doesn’t look much like any ordinary domestic servant - more like a bodyguard, with how broad she looks. Audrey began to understand why her aunt felt comfortable leaving Audrey under the watching eye of this aging woman.

“Don’t be put off by the wandering mind,” Aunt Bette chuckled. “This is just all a lot for Audrey to take in. She hasn’t see anything more elegant than the expensive suites back at her uncle’s hotel.” Agatha struck a chord of fear in Audrey’s heart, and the small girl shrank away from the tall woman’s shrewd glare. Just as Audrey’s fear reached a fevered pitch, Agatha’s expression broke into an oddly inviting smile. She wrapped her arms around Audrey, who wriggled awkwardly, even as she sighed in relief.

“It was a lot for me to take in at first, too,” Agatha laughed boisterously. “Outrageous, that someone could afford all this, yes?” Audrey nodded anxiously. “Even more outrageous - the idea of cleaning it all!” Bette and Agatha laughed together; Audrey managed to force a small, but tense, chuckle.

“I-I’m Audrey, Audrey Fisher,” the girl’s nerves burned, the only warmth in her body; her teeth chattered as the manse’s drafty halls throbbed with a cool wind that chilled along her shivering spine.

“Poor dear, here,” Agatha crooned, pulling a blanket from atop one of the couches and throwing it across Audrey’s shuddering shoulders. The girl exhaled deeply, Agatha drying out some of Audrey’s hair with the cloth. “How’d you get stuck walking up the hill? I could’ve sent the carriage,” Agatha frowned.

“You know me well enough to know I don’t do charity, Agatha,” Bette grumbled; Agatha smiled in response.

“You’re right. I’m certain your girl feels the same way?” Agatha turned her appraising gaze to Audrey, who nodded excitedly.

“I’m looking forward to working hard,” Audrey chirped. “The lord—”

“I’m certain your aunt has already spoken with you about the... master, of the house,” Agatha interrupted with authority. She and Bette shared a skeptical gaze.

“She knows,” Bette nodded. “I couldn’t send my niece here unprepared, after all.”

“He’s certainly not all that bad,” Agatha laughed a loud and deep laugh, something that nearly shook the windows. “He just has... certain feelings, habits, that he has little control over. It’s the nature of men, isn’t it?” Agatha lamented. Audrey laughed anxiously, not quite sure how to respond.

“I-I suppose it is,” Audrey replied. “I don’t... well, I don’t have much in the way of experience, therein.”

“No?” Agatha asked, surprised. “...The master will quite like you, then,” Agatha said.

“Twas my fear,” Bette interjected cautiously. “Audrey has spent most of her life on a farm, or in my inn, but she knows her place. And she knows how much trouble there is in the life of a Duke.”

“I don’t...” Audrey began to feel nerves welling in her chest, a mix of embarrassment and anger. “I’ll do my duties as you assign, Ms. Agatha. I think that should suffice,” she concluded, uncomfortable with so frank a discussion of her life. Agatha respected that, a slow smile forming on her lips.

“Anxious to get to work, then? I adore that mindframe,” Agatha barked. “Good.”

“Is this the new one?” A derisive chant erupted from behind Agatha. “What happened? Got stuck in the rain? And she’s tracking it all through my foyer,” the woman sighed. Short, petite, and with an expression full of vitriol, the maid clad in black, her hair long and dark, glared venom at Audrey, her arms crossed atop her chest.

“Stow the attitude for now, Ana. She’s new here, and she and her aunt, a good friend of mine, had to hike up the hill in the rain storm. Be accommodating, can’t you?” Agatha implored.

“We didn’t need another maid anyway. Or maybe Lord Parris sent for another for different reasons?” Ana asked shrewishly. “If that’s the case, she needn’t even settle in. There’s no more room for that in the manor.” Audrey blushed at even the faint thought of indulging in an evening with a duke.

“I’m not here for that,” she murmured self-consciously.

“Ana! What’s gotten in to you, to speak so boldly? Especially in front of company,” Agatha rumbled.

“We have no more room for lusty maids on the lord’s staff, is all,” Ana insisted haughtily, standoffish in the threshold of a heavy wooden door at the rear of the foyer. A feather duster in hand, she tidied off the table nearest her, though her vicious eyes never left Audrey, who remained both embarrassed and now shyly defiant.

“I’ve heard enough from you, Ana. Your jealousy doesn’t befit the senior member of my staff,” Agatha boomed. “This is Audrey. Be courtesy and introduce yourself.” Ana grudgingly sighed, trudging across sparkling tile floors to curtsy before Aunt Bette and Audrey, who returned a pensive curtsy of her own.

“Ana Morris,” the dark-haired maid intoned coldly, her eyes afire while she watched Audrey’s graceful movements. Agatha stood between the two, keeping clashing attitudes separated with her strong, broad presence. “Senior staff, beneath Ms. Agatha. Listen to me, and to her. Don’t go making messes. Do your tasks. And don’t sleep with our master,” she snarled.

“Enough. Ana, back to chambers,” Agatha roared, a bony finger pointed towards the door deep in the back of the foyer, clutched in shadow. With one parting glance, searing in its rage, Ana stormed back through the door; it slammed shut behind with a resounding boom, one that made Audrey wince. Bette and Agatha shared terse looks, mild amusement in Bette’s expression.

“I apologize for her behavior,” Agatha sighed. “Her relationship with Lord Parris is... complicated. She has a protective attitude towards him.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Bette intoned sarcastically. Audrey blinked.

“She’s...” Audrey swallows hard. “She has nothing to worry about! I said...”

“We know. And I’ll hold you to that,” Agatha crowed. “Stick to your responsibilities. And stay out of the master’s bedchamber, unless you’re polishing the silver, or tidying the sheets. Keep your head down. Don’t mind Ana. And everything should go wonderfully.”

“Is there anything else I should know?” Audrey asked. Before Agatha could answer, a loud rapping echoed through the halls; the front door boomed with the sound, knuckles loud against the wood. Agatha sighed in irritation.

“Another late caller. And in this storm!” Agatha exclaimed. “Who is it?” she shouted, loud enough that even the door and the storm couldn’t obscure her cry.

“Open the door, Agatha,” slithered a shrill and snakelike voice into the hall. Startled, Audrey recoiled, her heart racing in her chest for fear of what may be waiting. Agatha recognized the voice, shaking her head.

“What business does the Duchess have in our halls tonight?” Agatha snarled.

“Normally I enjoy observing this bloody sense of ‘proper protocol’, Agatha, but I’m stuck in the rain and yer testing my patience, love,” the voice - clearly a man’s, husky and hoarse - growled through the door. “I’ll open the door meself if I have to.” Agatha grudgingly pulled the door open again, water splashing across Audrey’s face as she beheld a lengthy and ornate caravan, led by a trio of stunning snow-white horses. Paneled in white and silver, lanterns glowed softly on each corner; the cabin within looked nearly as big as the entirety of the coach Audrey had rode in on. Door swinging open, out stepped a woman in an elegant, expensive white gown; it glittered in the low glow of the lamps. The woman wrapped within cursed quietly as she staggered through the rain in her daggered heels, seeking refuge in the manse’s foyer. Audrey stifled a giggle as the beautiful heeled woman nearly makes the same mistake she had, her heels squeaking on the wet tiles as she struggled to balance herself.

“Presenting yer royalness, the Duchess Francine, and all that,” the woman’s surly and sleazy valet announces. A whisper of a man in a black suit with greasy black hair and skin pale as a ghost’s, his snakelike features bowed in sarcastic deference as the young woman made her presence known in the foyer, all glam and gala. Head held high, with hair of flowing blonde and eyes like sapphires, she carried an annoyed and haughty expression.

“What can we do for you this evening, Francine?” Agatha sighed, bringing contempt to the surface of the young woman in the fancy dress.

“You dare address me as such? Bryce hasn’t slapped any sense into you?” she sneered. Captivated by the woman, Audrey looked at her flowing dress and impeccable beauty with amazement... which inevitably drew the angry stare of the duchess. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“She’s the new maidservant,” Aunt Bette interjected, not taking any lip from the woman.

“And who are you to address me? You’re all fortunate I’ve a patience for Bryce’s antics, or else I’d have you made a fool of,” the duchess snarled. Audrey cast her glance away meekly, but the duchess hadn’t finished with the innocent young girl.

“You know what Bryce does with the maidservants, don’t you?” the duchess laughed haughtily. Fearful, Audrey glanced for help from Agatha, who proved herself as much a verbal presence as a physical one in protecting girls in her charge.

“Audrey is new here, and she’s not used to your attitude, duchess. You’ll have to phrase your question more appropriately,” Agatha sighed, irritated by the rude woman who called herself royalty.

“I’ll rephrase my question as a statement,” Francine seethed. “The Duke is an important man. He has no time to play games with maids and common street folk. Do you understand? Spend your nights in the maid’s chambers,” Francine scowled. “Now. Ladies. I have business to attend to. Where is Bryce?”

“He’s not here,” Agatha shrugged. “Lordly business, too important for us street folk. Certainly, you understand,” she added facetiously. Her face blushing and her expression livid, Francine huffed and spin out the door, her scummy valet following her with a clatter of the door.

“Lovely company you get around here,” Aunt Bette said jokingly.

“Poor poor Francine. Her rich husband, the Duke of Northshire, dies, and in her heartbreak she inherits his estate and his title. But one title’s never enough for a girl, is it,” Agatha facetiously lamented. “Such a sad tale.”

“Sad,” Aunt Bette echoed tersely.

“Her word has merit, though. Audrey,” Agatha nodded.

“R... right,” her voice wobbled. “Off limits. Off limits.” Her heart pounded hard in her chest, and she couldn’t truly deny her curiosity.

A man so off-limits, wanted by so many... what could he possibly be like?

Chapter 3

Audrey mentally checked off each of the tasks Agatha had assigned her. Her first day had gone exceptionally well, having woken invigorated with the smell of morning dew and the feel of fresh sunlight streaming through the windows. The maid’s quarters proved comfortable and spacious – more so even than her room at the cramped home she shared with her aunt and uncle. After Aunt Bette had disembarked for the trip back to London, work began quickly - and after a round of skeptical criticism from Ana, whose jealousy had begun to bleed freely, Agatha set her about cleaning the top floor of the impressive manor.

Thankfully, Audrey’s jobs had been quite easy. Few ventured as far as the fourth floor, and aside from polishing and sweeping for gathered dust, the halls needed little scrubbing. A grand trophy room held armor, weapons, antlers and spoils claimed from centuries of hunting England’s moors, and fighting her wars; the room appeared as if it hadn’t been touched in years, with layers of dust and cobwebs caking centuries-old shields and swords and glass display cases. Bookshelves carried thick tomes in the library, their spines so coated in dust one could scarcely make out the names; reading armchairs stuffed with goose-down would have been quite luxury years past, before dirt and wear caked the faded upholstery.

Audrey cleaned each room thoroughly and attentively; hours she’d spent, until hunger pangs began eating at her stomach. Dusting away the last table in the dust-choked and unused study, she heard Agatha’s booming voice cry up the stairwell towards her.

“Audrey! The cooks have prepared tea and food for us, come downstairs, love!” she called. So distracted by her work, it took Audrey a moment to parse the words; staggering out into the hall, she took her first breath of dust-free air in quite a few hours.

“I’ll be down in just a few moments! I have something to finish up here,” she replied.

“Hurry yourself, then! Tea’s going to get cold,” Agatha said with a smile. Audrey smiled and nodded, before hustling back down the narrow, faintly-lit hallway towards the last door at the end of the corridor. The door handle rattled, locked up tight; Audrey smirked, pulling a small hairpin from the apron across her stomach. Agatha had asked for Audrey to clean the entire fourth floor, yes?

With a few quick-fingered twists of the lock mechanism, the hairpin clicked quietly as it jostled the door unlocked. Taking a deep breath, canny young Audrey slowly pulled open the door to a room filled with even more dust than the last, cobwebs strung thick across the doorway. She took a breath and immediately coughed, expelling mildew-thick air from her lungs. White sheets, turned grey from years of dingy dirt buildup, laid across rows and rows of stacked furniture; tables, chairs stacked one on top of the other; cabinets full of dusty china porcelain. Audrey swallowed hard; she had a feeling she shouldn’t be in here, but the mystery of her employee intrigued her, and curiosity always did end up getting the better of the adventurous young maid.

Audrey still had not met her new master - or even so much as seen him. She thought him perhaps a ghost, haunting the darkest part of the halls; or perhaps a fairytale prince. She had dismissed the thought just as quick. Wealthy, powerful, and influential - Audrey had an inkling of the reality of most dukes and lords. Fat, selfish, greedy, crude - and lustful, just as her aunt and Agatha had warned her. Still her heart throbbed contentiously when she stepped through the disused door, wondering if her mysterious benefactor lurked here, buried beneath furniture, sheets and dust.

Hazy daylight filtered through translucent white curtains, the windows behind them dingy with smears of dirty age. Taking a deep breath, Audrey pushed between cramped pathways carved through the chamber, its wooden floor scratched and scored. Her footfalls left impressions deep in the dust, telling any who wished to ask that a nosy young chambermaid had traipsed her way into the mildewy confines of the locked room.

“Audrey! Come downstairs!” Agatha’s voice echoed. So entranced by the strange locked room was Audrey that she called back half-heartedly, distracted by a stack of colorful, floral-patterned round boxes ahead.

“I’ll be down in a moment, Ms. Agatha,” her voice trailed, full of an enraptured malaise. Stepping sprightly over piles of boxes, she wove through the mess of dust and dirt and stuffy cabinets until she reached the circular boxes. She popped the top from one of them, coughing as waves of dust kicked up into her face. After the spell faded, she hurriedly dug into the contents, buried under layers of crumpled tissue.

Audrey could scarcely contain her elated surprise; stuffed away were layers of small drawings, paintings - and on top, most surprisingly, were some of those expensive new photographs, realistic drawings made by extravagant inventors using little boxes, which may well have been magic, as far as Audrey was concerned. She had heard whispers of them from the drunken travelers and Parisians who wandered into her aunt and uncle’s inn, but had never seen them before. Devices to capture and create these sorts of things would dwarf any amount of money she could hope to make in her life. Yet in these boxes lay piles of them - pictures of family, friends, by a lake front; amid the hills, with the regal estate in the distance. Audrey traced her fingers in shock along the images, stunned by how real they all looked - and how much it must’ve cost to hire someone to take them. She shuffled through the lot of them, hoping quietly in her heart to find some idea of the kind of man she worked for - her curiosity got the best of her, and with each photo she sorted through, she wondered if perhaps the face of these men - some cheery, some brooding; some handsome and young, some old and fetid - represented the visage of her employer.

“They’re fascinating, aren’t they?” A voice from behind startled Audrey, shocking a quiet and meek chirp from her lips; she let loose a handful of the images, tossing them precariously back into the box before her. She swallowed hard, terror cold in her every vein, frozen like a cat caught disobeying its master.

“You shouldn’t be in here, you know.” She felt the warmth emanating from the words; a man’s voice, a deep voice thrumming low and deep and enticing. She couldn’t speak at first, though the words bubbled slowly and incomprehensibly to her throat.

“I-I-I’m so... please, let me apologize, I—” a hand fell firm onto her shoulder, and she felt a strength pulling her backward. Spun on her heels, Audrey swallowed hard, her eyes wide when they fell upon the man whose voice rumbled in a sultry baritone through her ears.

“You must be the new maid that Agatha hired, yes?” he spoke so smoothly, so confidently; he knew every word he wanted to say. He knew how the world moved; he moved it himself. Tall and strong, clad in a custom-tailored suit stylish enough to dazzle Audrey’s mouth wide open, she couldn’t get over how... gorgeous, he was. Truly gorgeous. She had expected a slovenly, greedy and indulgent man, and instead her eyes fall upon young, powerful man with a chiseled jaw, rakish honey-blonde hair, a confident smirk and beaming baby-blue eyes, with skin a deep shade of glowering bronze. Virile stubble dotted his chin and cheeks, though he didn’t wear a beard, as Audrey had become so accustomed to seeing on men back in the city. She stood frozen in shock, and wonderment; she’d never seen a man quite like this, and it took the breath straight from her lungs.

“Do you know how you speak?” he chuckled. “I’m certain you’ve figured by now that I’m your employer - yes? Lord Bryce Parris, Duke of McClellan,” he imparted with a regal charm. He leaned in to kiss Audrey’s hand and her heart throbbed, nearly right from within in her chest, the lump in her throat too big to swallow.

“I-I’m sorr... sorry,” Audrey struggled, unsure whether she ought to be more afraid or stunned by the gorgeous man.

“Which part are you sorry for? Being unable to speak? Or perhaps about breaking and entering this particular room?” he smirked. “Or perhaps you’re sorry for gawking so shamelessly and impertinently at me, Miss Fisher?” he purred. Audrey blinked.

“I’m s... sorry, for... how did you know my name?” she stammered.

“Audrey Fisher. Do you think I allow just anyone to wander freely onto my estate, Ms. Fisher?” he retorted with brimming confidence. “Agatha told me all about you. I had to ensure you weren’t a spy embedded by any of my rivals, yes?” Audrey blinked.

“A sp-spy? Do you think I’m—”

“Perhaps you are,” Lord Parris smirked, his hand gently rubbing Audrey’s shoulder. She all at once became aware of the sensation of his palm on her dress and her body shuddered at the warmth. “That’d be quite exciting, wouldn’t it?”

“I’m... I’m not a s... spy, or... I’m sorry, y-your highness,” she murmured.

“Your highness? I’m not the king,” he laughed. “I could certainly be your king, though. If you wanted it,” he commented brashly, and while Audrey’s cheeks burst bright-red at the impropriety, something about it felt so inviting; so enticing. She steadied herself, remembering what Aunt Bette had said. She’d said it would be like his.

“L... Lord Parris, I apologize, for entering the room, for...”

“Perhaps you are a spy, hmm? You managed to pry that locked door open. Not a skill too many maidservants have, I’d assume. I’m watching you,” he whispered hotly into her ear, and he was - so shamelessly, he was. Audrey quivered like a leaf in the wind under the gorgeous man’s skewering gaze, his eyes so enticed by her every inch. She gulped, feeling so improper, but so right, at the same time.

“I w... worked for my aunt, at an inn, and our lodgers would often leave doors locked, or lock themselves out, or...” Audrey tried to explain herself, but her heart beat too hard for her to speak.

“I’m teasing, of course, Ms. Fisher. A blushing beauty like you would be the worst spy ever. Or perhaps the best,” he chuckled, honeyed, into her ear.

“There you are! Lord Parris, and—” Agatha stood in the doorway, her expression contorted in dismay. “...Ms. Audrey, together. In this room.”

“Your new maidservant has quite a few mystery talents, and a curious mind,” Lord Parris purred. “I like her.” Audrey swallowed hard, squirming in her slippers. He liked her? She didn’t know what to make of that, but it felt... nice.

“I’m certain you do, but it’s time for tea and an afternoon rest, so let’s go, yes, Audrey?” Agatha spoke sternly. “Meet me downstairs. Now, please,” she said, with the boisterous insistence of a school teacher.

“It sounds like you’re in trouble,” Lord Parris smirked playfully to Audrey.

“I didn’t mean...” her voice trailed off into a hesitant sigh.

“Don’t worry about Agatha. You should be worried about me, and the spanking I ought to give you,” he hummed so hot and so tense that Audrey’s body shook and her voice quivered loose a weak, uncontrolled moan. He strolled out of the room, head held high, chuckling quietly to himself, and Audrey nearly melted into the floorboards from how hot his words sizzled in the air.

“Remember what Aunt Bette told you,” Audrey said quietly to herself, trying to still her nerves.

Things may have gotten quite difficult.

Chapter 4

“Audrey, didn’t Agatha assign you to clean the cupboards upstairs? Near the Duke’s bedroom?” Ana’s voice sung a stinging and rude refrain, her expression rough and haughty. Barging through the kitchen door, she startled Audrey with her loud voice; Audrey’s breath caught in her throat and she nearly dropped and shattered her glass across the tile floor below.

“I-I’m sorry, what?” Audrey stammered. Ana rolled her eyes.

“The cupboards, on the third floor. With the china. Did you forget to do all of Agatha’s assigned tasks? Where did you learn to do housework?” Ana scornfully replied. Audrey shrunk, buried under a mound of spite.

“Ana, I want to ask you something,” Audrey said, a glint of meek defiance in her eye. “What did I do to upset you so?”

“What? I’m not upset,” Ana snarled, clearly upset.

“You seem to be,” Audrey retorted.

“What do I have to be upset about? I’m working for one of the richest, most handsome men in all of England,” Ana scoffed haughtily. “I’m assistant to the senior steward of the house. If Agatha moves on, or stops working, or passes, I’ll be in a position to secure my relationship with the duke,” Ana snidely commented. Audrey lofted a brow.

“Secure your... relationship?” the young redhead queried. Ana laughed.

“It’s not completely obvious to you? It ought to be,” Ana smirked arrogantly. “The Duke and I are connected. Closely,” she said smugly. Audrey, for once, didn’t feel like the most deluded or naive person in the room.

“Ana,” she said quietly, “you... has Ms. Agatha told you about... the Duke? About the things... the things he does?”

“What things he does?” Ana replied smugly. “Certainly, you haven’t let the prude protestants get into your ear, have you?” she sneered.

“The Duke is not... well, he’s a man who likes to take certain liberties with his staff,” Audrey said, repeating the same words her aunt had used, with the same wary sense of stilted, awkward caution. “Besides. He’s a nobleman! We’re nothing even close to nobility. Not like the duchess.”

“The duchess is just a distraction!” Ana roared, clattering a tray of dishes onto the counter with defiant anger in her voice. “She’s the one that... that Lord Parris takes to the balls. He told me how he really feels about me,” Ana murmured smugly. Audrey looked away, pensive. Maybe Ana was right, she pondered.

“I... I have to get back to cleaning the rest of these dishes,” Audrey’s voice quivered. Ana seemed satisfied with Audrey’s deferential attitude, and began to unload her tray of dishes, overwhelming Audrey as she scrubbed each quicker than the last, until she began to sweat from overwork.

“Where did you learn to clean dishes? These are still covered in grease!” Ana erupted, pointing out smudged spots on the gleaming china porcelain. Audrey sighed.

“Ana, please,” she murmured. “I’m trying as best I can. Don’t tell Ms. Agatha - or Lord Parris, please.”

“You needn’t worry. We can keep it between ourselves. Just keep your hands to yourself, yes?” Ana snidely threatened.

“I have no intentions of—”

Audrey couldn’t finish her sentence before the door creaked open, its hinges whining. There he stood - his seat flawless, his face beaming, his smirk broad. Caught off-guard, Audrey swallowed hard.

“I’m— L-Lord Parris,” she stammered.

“Good afternoon, sir,” Ana purred, sashaying through the cramped kitchen to the Duke’s side. He lofted a quizzical brow, his voice flat and serious.

“Hello, Ana. I have some work that needs to be done upstairs, in my bedchambers,” he announced.

“Oh?” Ana smiled deviously. “Did you come to gather me up, then? I’d be happy to help.”

“Actually,” Lord Parris said deadpan, “I had come to enlist Ms. Fisher’s help. I feel I need to instruct her on a few things about cleaning the estate.” Ana blinked. Audrey swallowed hard, feeling her heart starting to pound again. She could scarcely believe, nor understand, why he’d need her help - in his bedchambers. Doubt cluttered her stomach and made her feel sick.

“Wh-what? You want her help?” Ana struggled. “Why?”

“Are you questioning my orders, Ms. Rancourt?” Lord Parris regarded her skeptically.

“Wh- no! I’m... I’m just...” speechless, Ana staggered back and landed in one of the rough wooden chairs, stuffed into the corner of the kitchen.

“Ms. Fisher? Will be you be accompanying me, then?” Audrey shook herself from her haunted, surprised reverie and nodded anxiously.

“O-of course, sir, I’ll— I’m sorry, just give me a moment to catch my breath,” she gasped, her cheeks bright red. She obsessively smoothed out her white skirt, bringing a small, seductive chuckle to Lord Parris’s lips.

“Catch your breath? Have I already stolen it away form you?” Lord Parris growled. He beckoned her on behind him with a curl of his fingers, and she followed; on the way through the door, Audrey caught a fleeting glimpse of Ana, shocked, in her chair; she pulled her gaze to Audrey’s face just long enough to glare with vitriol in every crevice of her expression. Audrey tiptoed nervously through the door, fearful of how Ana might treat her because of this.

“Are you two getting along quite well?” Lord Parris asked unexpectedly while he and Audrey climbed the grand staircase; Audrey murmured a string of stunned syllables before piecing words together.

“I, uhm— I’m...” she giggled, blushing. “I don’t think... Ms. Rancourt likes me all too much, sir.”

“Ana has a tendency to grow jealous,” he admitted. “She’s protective of me, you see.”

“Pr-protective? Of you?” Audrey queried, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“Of course. All my house staff tends to be,” he answered, full of gaiety. “Ana simply sees the relationship as... well, as more personal.”

“Why is that?” Audrey fired back quickly, wanting to hear this right from her employer’s mouth.

“Well, because she and I have been close,” he admitted brazenly. “But I’m not interested in her tonight,” he growled, as they reached the door to his bedchamber.

“My... my lord,” Audrey responded, not expecting that sort of an answer; one so bold. “I... I came to the McClellan estate to clean,” she warned.

“Isn’t that what I requested of you, sweet Audrey?” he hummed. He immediately stole away her breath as she entered his bedchamber - a place she had not yet been allowed to enter. Maroon fleur-de-lis wallpaper trimmed in gold plastered the wall, bordered with spotless oak paneling; a bed larger than any Audrey had ever dreamed of seeing sat before an intricately-carved headboard, a golden canopy hanging overhead, translucent gold curtains twisting in the cool breeze from his opened, floor-to-ceiling windows, giving a flawless view of the sun setting over the moors. Heedless he strode across woven rugs straight from Persia, basking in the falling sun; he shrugged his blazer from his shoulders, laying it across the elegant chair set before his maple writing desk. As Audrey crept carefully in behind him, her slippers sliding along the rug, the duke unbuttoned his silky white shirt, pulling it off of his muscled body and laying it over the chair as well. Audrey sucked in a quick breath, averting her eyes.

“M-M’lord,” she murmured, startled. “Sh-should I be seeing you quite... like this? It seems i-inappropriate,” Audrey insisted with a nervous laugh, eying the gallery of expensive paintings draped along the walls; framed in gold-painted wood, beautifully-crafted landscapes glowed in the rich orange of the sunset.

“Have you never seen a man without his shirt on before, Ms. Fisher?” Lord Parris teased, ever-confident. “Perhaps you haven’t... scandalous, isn’t it?”

“M’lord, I... I just...” Audrey held back from looking. Her aunt, and Agatha, had warned her about Lord Parris. She swallowed hard, resisting all alluring temptation in his hotly rumbling voice. She heard footsteps, soft against the carpet, her breath quivering. “I had hoped to get this cl... cleaning done, before night fell. So that I wouldn’t disturb your sleep.”

“I’d very much like to disturb your sleep,” he cooed, approaching closer, and she simply couldn’t keep her eyes away any longer. She felt so scandalous, so wrong, taking a peek at her employer’s shirtless body - his abs rippled in the dying sun, every cut of his firm, strong body calling out to her, making her blush brighter; making her body shake in a want she didn’t even know existed.

“I-I say... I said, disturb your sleep,” she tried to clarify, babbling weakly.

“We can disturb one another’s sleep,” he purred. She heard him push the door shut... the handle clicking firmly shut. Her breath trembled hard. She knew she needed to steady herself; to cool the fiery burning deep in her chest.

“L... Lord Parris, this...” she swallowed hard. “D-do you do this with all of your maidservants?” she stammered, indignant. “I... Ana, she... you, and... I don’t find it a-appropriate at all. A... a girl, like me, has her place, and you, you have your place...”

“Your place is here, and I know you feel it,” he whispered into her ear, and his breath burned so hot on her skin that her spine shivered against her will. He stood behind her now, lips looming so close to her neck. Audrey looked away again, but she couldn’t still her breaths, picking up steam like a runaway carriage rumbling down a hill.

“My place is in the maid’s chambers,” Audrey said, her voice failing in its attempts at remaining resolute. “I d... Lord Parris, I dare not criticize your lifestyle, but it’s... it can’t include me.”

“Why do you try to deny what I know you’re feeling here?” His arm wrapped around and pressed against her heart, and sure as she could feel it throbbing in her chest, so could he. She gasped, but she didn’t pull away; no, she couldn’t, not with how good it felt for the duke’s strong hand to touch her. “You’re different, Audrey,” he whispered; she could feel his adoring lips nibbling at her earlobe, cresting down the side of her face, until he showered her neck with delicious, erotic praise. She could fight the feeling no more, falling back against his chest, moaning a soft puff of a moan as splashes of sunlit orange spread across her white linen blouse.

“N... this is... the duchess, and Ana, they’ll kill me if they knew, m’lord,” she protested. “My Aunt... Agatha, they...” she didn’t want him to stop. Every inch of her body quaked in choking need to feel him, but her mind just couldn’t say yes. Finally, she felt his lips on her cheek, spreading lusty warmth across her milky skin, and with her eyes held shut, and her body trembling and begging for her to give in, her muscles stiffened and she shouted.

“No!” she exclaimed. She didn’t want to say it. Every muscle, burning now in desire, begged her not to. But she couldn’t let down her aunt. She couldn’t dare to cross the duchess - or to cross Ana. She had a duty to perform... and as much as she hated feeling so obligated to duty, she dared not bring scandal down on her name or her family. Or worse yet - entangle the duke in a scandal of his own. Lord Parris’s hands lingered, feeling her body tremble, before he withdrew. They breathed hot and heavy together, their lips lingering so close.

Though she stood firm, she couldn’t retreat yet... not completely. Their lips met, and the fire of passion as they kissed filled her with something her virginal body had never felt; a warmth reaching down into her stomach, her entire body blushing as they shared a tender, tense, and powerful moment of entwined desire together. He gazed into her eyes as their kiss ended; she did the same. It felt so good for her to be in his arms, so good that she never wanted to give it up.

“That’ll be all, then, Ms. Fisher,” Lord Parris murmured, straightening his stance; leaving her so painfully devoid of his strength, and his warmth. She tidied herself, legs squirming as to contain the desire within.

“I... th-thank you, m’lord,” she murmured with a curtsy. Their gazes lingered for a long, long while - full of disdain, and doubt - and something feral, something real.

“Good night, Ms. Fisher,” he growled.

“G... good night,” she responded, still shaken - and, for the first time in so long, feeling so alive.

Chapter 5

The dining room itself was larger than any room Audrey had had to clean at her aunt and uncle’s inn, and now - by mid-afternoon, she had grown so exhausted from polishing marble statues, wooden paneling and carved maple chairs, along with scrubbing spotless the tiles, she flung herself with a sigh into the tall, plush-velvet dining chair sat at the head of the table, breathing deeply. She had been up since sunrise; Agatha worked her hard, and while the old woman may had had her suspicions, Audrey kept the secret of her kiss shared so passionately with the master of the house completely silent.

She watched cattle graze upon the moors; it seemed every room in the manor gave a breathtaking view of rolling, verdant green hills trailing into the distance, as far as any eye could see. Farmers tended to their cattle, with a small village of stone structures and farmhouses scattered at the edge of the horizon. Resting her head in her hands, Audrey reclined in the chair, listening to distant calls and the chirp of birds along idyllic pastures. She never got to enjoy this sort of thing in the city - in bustling London, alleyways cut across more alleyways and looming pubs, merchant cornerstones and inns stood on every street corner. She hadn’t enjoyed the smell of fresh grass or morning dew since she’d left the family farm, after her mother and father had passed.

“Bryce? Are you in here?” A faintly-familiar voice startled Audrey’s relaxing reverie; she jumped from the chair, stumbling forward, nearly onto her face. She could recognize the haughty crowing - as that of Duchess Francine, the duke’s presumed wife-to-be, eventually. She certainly seemed persistent. “Bryce? You’re not Lord Parris,” the duchess scowled on seeing Audrey struggle for balance, her face beaming with a nervous smile.

“I’m— I’m sorry, m’lady, I’m not certain where—” Audrey bowed her head in deference, the innocent woman blushing. The maid’s lips curled in distaste.

“What are you doing sitting at the dinner table? Hasn’t Agatha got a task to assign you? The help isn’t paid for its lethargy,” Duchess Francine chided, arms crossed tight over her corset-bound chest, a flowing gown of golden gossamer beneath. “Where’s your bucket? You missed a spot. Scrub that floor, there,” she pointed a bony, white-gloved finger towards the corner of the dining room, behind a small statue of a man’s bust. “Why haven’t you gotten to cleaning? Should I call Ana, or Agatha?”

“N-no, m’lady, I apologize,” Audrey sighed, her back already aching from a morning spent hunched over, scrubbing away at the entire dining room. “I’m sorry for the duke’s absence—”

“That’s of no concern to you. Nothing about Bryce is a concern to you, do you understand?” Francine snarled. Back onto her knees, back hunched, her red hair a knotted mess from a morning of sweating and working, Audrey looked like quite disaster as she carefully pulled the bust out of the way, dragging her bucket behind her. Not satisfied with the blushing and nervous young woman’s reply, Francine’s heels clacked loudly as she approached Audrey’s hunched, deferent body.

“He’s-he’s just my employer, is all, m’lady, I promise,” she murmured weakly, dipping her brush into the soapy water.

“That’s all he is,” Francine murmured dangerously. Leaned over the hunched maidservant, her teeth clenched, Francine’s voice squeezed hatefully through to poor, meek Audrey. “I heard about what happened last night. I thought I had made it clear to you maid-harlots that the lord’s business is mine to handle, and none of yours,” she seethed. “I’ll not tolerate any other implications of impropriety. Do you understand?” She threatened.

“L-lady, Lady Francine, please—”

“You will address me only as duchess,” she snarled.

“I— duchess, yes, no-nothing happened! Lord Parris simply requested I help to clean his bedchambers, and...”

“Have I made myself clear? You will not even so much as dream of what Bryce’s bedchambers look like,” Francine growled.”You will not—”

“Is something going on in here? Francine?” Lord Parris entered the dining hall, tie tight to his neck, a fancy-tailored suit with maroon waistcoat clinging tight to his gorgeous, chiseled body. “What are you doing?”

“I was— well, I was simply... getting your servants to do their jobs!” the duchess’s voice wobbled as she stood tall once again. “I entered the dining hall to find this one lazing in the chair! You really ought to give Agatha an earful on this one. Nothing but impetuous and troublesome, as I’ve seen her.” Audrey dutifully scrubbed away at the floorboards, though there was little dirt or grime to clean. She simply hoped to stay out of the duchess’s way.

“Are you the head of my household staff now, then?” the duke asked skeptically. “Last I knew, I had Agatha for that. Not you, Francine.”

“I was... you should appreciate me, you know,” Francine huffed. The duke’s eyes shifted to Audrey, who remained silent, her head down, scrubbing furiously in hopes she wouldn’t be noticed.

“Is this true? Were you loafing, on the job?” the duke’s accusatory tone falls onto Audrey’s stressed shoulders. Her breath picks up and fear throbs down every nerve. “Ms. Fisher?” he asks, expectantly waiting for a response. Audrey finally stopped, quivering as she laid her brush back into the soapy water bucket.

“Y-yes, m’lord, I’m terribly sorry, I... my back, it hurt, after a morning cleaning the dining hall, and I simply decided to take a moment to—”

“See? And you doubted me,” the duchess roared in slithering satisfaction. “At least the little brat hasn’t the gall to lie to you about it. I suppose she deserves recognition for that.”

“Quiet, Francine,” the duke growled sternly. “Go wait outside, in the carriage. I’ll need a word with my maidservant, about her work,” he instructed. Smugly satisfied, the duchess curtsied with so much sarcasm in her expression.

“Remember, we need to be to Northshire before sunset, so do hurry,” Francine’s saccharine voice dripped, before she clacked her way out of the hall. Audrey sat hunched in terrified silence, fearing that after the previous night, she had so deeply offended the duke that her time here at the McClellan estate was surely over. The door shut with a muffled boom, and next she heard his voice, commanding and powerful.

“Stand up, Audrey,” he demanded. She complied, reflexively, as if some powerful force in his tone worked her like the strings of a marionette. She cast her gaze away, not having the courage to look at her employer’s face.

“M’lord, I’m deeply sorry, I had... I just simply wished for a moment’s reprieve from the pain in my back,” she pleaded weakly.

“You haven’t looked at my face today. Not last night, in my bedchamber. Not until we kissed, Ms. Fisher,” he spoke firmly. “Look at me.” She hesitated.

“M... m’lord, I didn’t mean to offend... last night, please, don’t hold it against me,” she insisted.

“Look at me,” he demanded again, firm; powerful. Again, she felt compelled to listen, her eyes locking on to his. She expected to see distaste; to see hate. Instead, she met eyes full of that same emotion she had seen last night - in his bedchamber. It’s as if their embrace had never truly ended. “I expect a certain amount of control over my household, Ms. Fisher,” he said, approaching her slowly. His voice carried authority, but with it came a sizzling sense of lust, and just like that Audrey felt all those same wants, burning in her heart - the ones she had shut down so thoroughly the night before. They burned again and she struggled, trying to keep them suppressed as her lip trembled softly.

“M... M’lord, I don’t... I’m sorry, I’ll behave, I’ve done wh... what Agatha...” her words trailed away the closer he came, until she couldn’t even breathe without a little mewling moan of want in each tremble of her lungs.

“I expect... obedience, Ms. Fisher... and I think you’ll find,” he growled, “that once you’ve tasted my obedience... you’ll enjoy it.”

“I... I told you... you no, last night, m’lord, but b... because,” she tried to explain herself, her voice thin and soft.

“Shhh,” he murmured, a finger held to her lips. “I respect a woman of propriety... a virginal woman, a woman of integrity...” he reassured her. “I felt something different, with you, Ms. Fisher...” he stepped behind her, and she heard a quiet rustling; with steely fingers grasping her wrists, she yelped as his strength bound her wrists together; a leather belt held them tight, and all she could do was wriggle her fingers.

“I can’t...” she protested. “Th... the duchess, she waits just outside, for you, Lord Parris,” Audrey fought to make a thousand excuses, her mind telling her it was so wrong, so full of scandal. But when his hands massaged her shoulders and gave them just what she had wanted, if only for a moment, and she felt his lips on her skin again, she couldn’t hold out any longer. Aunt Bette’s words filled her mind; then Agatha’s. Then that sneered threat, seethed through the duchess’s teeth. She saw Ana’s scowling face as she turned her face so hungrily and locked lips with him again. She felt good, submitting - her wrists tied. Losing control would normally terrify Audrey, but with him, it felt... right. Like a puzzle piece fallen in to a perfect jigsaw of hot bodies stoked in lusty need.

“You can submit slowly, at first,” he teased her, kissing along her cheekbone, her lips gaping and her eyes half-shut with hunger aching in every thick breath. With his strength he pressed her stomach against the dining hall table, chairs screeching as he threw them aside; she moaned as his rippling muscles pressed against her back. Audrey took in a deep breath, biting her bottom lip, her fingers wriggling; it was so foreign a sensation, but the scandal made it feel so much better than she could have imagined. His fingers curled into her frilly white panties, just beneath her loose skirt, her breaths grew frantic, starved; she had spent her whole life a sweet and chaste maid, and now, as her heart beat so steadily for him, she couldn’t believe how much she wanted him this way.

“M... master,” she cooed, shuddering on the table. “M... m’lord, pl... please, be gentle, I don’t... I’ve never been with a man,” she admitted sheepishly. With rapturous care he held her waist, squeezing her softly and whispering warm into her wanting ear.

“I’d never hurt you,” he promised. “...Unless you liked it,” he added with a dirty laugh, kissing along her cheek. A thousand questions filled her prudent young mind but nothing mattered right now because of how good it felt to be so close to him. She felt the bulge stiff against her backside, her milky skin blushing bright, her folds damp and inviting as he pulled his slacks to his hips, his powerful length gently entering her slowly at first; inch, by inch. He stretched her hesitantly, and while the sting burned the virgin at first, it felt so good she couldn’t even comprehend it. Wound so tight was her quaking, innocent body that when he finally filled her, his shaft spasming and hardening deep inside of her unclaimed flesh, she cried out his name, her body erupting with orgasmic pleasure along every nerve, her muscles stiffening and her limbs flexing tensely. He cooed into her ear, and she couldn’t even process the sounds; the feelings, other than that with her hands bound and her body claimed everything felt so good, better than she could have thought it would ever be.

“You feel so good,” the lord admitted, holding onto her shoulders tightly as he entered her faster, stiffer, stronger; his muscles ached against her skin as he held her close, pumping his hips against her until she cried out his name and orgasmed again; this time, he joined her in an immaculate and heavenly symphony of lusty moans. He held onto the bindings on her wrists tight, stuffing her full and deep as wave after wave after messy wave of his release warmed her succulent, feminine depths. She could barely breathe as their bodies came down from those amazing highs; he gripped her close, pulling her down into a chair with him, kissing along her neck as she savored every spasming feeling of his climax filling her deep.

“M... m’lord,” she fought a failing battle to catch her breath, her fiery hair a mess; sweat beads rolling down her brow. “I... I didn’t know, that it... I had imagined so much, of my first time, but I never knew, it would be...”

“Like that?” he finished for her, confidence shining through his smirk. “I suppose I have a duchess to tend to... don’t I?” Audrey scowled.

“I... I don’t...”

“I can stay here with you, for just a few more moments,” he hummed playfully. The thought excited Audrey.

“Please,” she begged in a quiet whisper, squirming as he unfurled the belt binding her wrists. She wrapped her arms adoringly around the rake, who smiled his satisfied little smile.

Chapter 6

It had been painful hours since midday. Painful hours separated from him - from those wild things he had done to her body. She was no longer a virgin, and it made her feel so much scandal. He had claimed her innocence, just like Aunt Bette and Agatha had warned against.

And now she couldn’t stop worrying about it.

Aunt Bette had warned her. Agatha had warned her. And while those moments in the duke’s embrace had felt so dirty and so heavenly, she had spent every moment since with her heart pounding painfully in her chest. She had given in. She had lost her pride - just like they had told her not to. Lord Parris proved too much for her to handle. She frantically scrubbed the floor of the dining hall, over and over again, fearful that the moments spent in dripping lust with him wouldn’t linger; that the scent of their bodies together wouldn’t alert Ana, or worse, Duchess Francine, of what had happened in those steamy moments. At supper time, she had cried; her heart welling with emotion, she hid in a corner of the dining hall and cried, nerves on edge as she imagined the tumultuous course her life would take, now.

What would happen to Audrey, if Ana found out? Her life would come to closely resemble hell. Even worse, the duchess could have her career ruined. A young woman with no where to work. The anxiety crept into her as she continued cleaning, until night stretched deep across the moors. She had lost track of time when the room grew dark enough that she lit the candelabra on the table, her breath quivering. No one had bothered her; no one had come to see her. By the time Agatha pulled open the doors that night to check the room, Audrey had nearly scrubbed the finish from the floorboards.

“Audrey? Are you still in here?” Agatha asked, exhausted; she peered across the dining room, finally finding the frantic young girl huddled in the corner of the dining hall, her brush scrubbing wildly at a nonexistent stain. “Audrey? What’ve— have you been at this all afternoon, dear?”

“M-Miss Ag... Ms. Agatha,” she stammered, the momentary mania washing away; she realized just how absurd she must have looked; how absurd she had been acting. “I’m... sorry, Ms. Agatha, I. I got carried away, I supposed.”

“Carried away, perhaps,” Agatha observed coolly, eying up and down the long, narrow hall, its floors spotless; each chair polished, even the dining silver laid out at each place glowing and pristine. “...the dining hall looks wonderful, Audrey. You’ve done more than I had expected.” Still, Agatha’s voice remained guarded, her expression peculiar. “But you’ve finished now, yes? What’s got you in that corner?”

“O-oh,” Audrey murmured, “th... I was... there was a s-stain, and...”

“Calm your nerves, girl,” Agatha smiled, matronly. “What’s got you so shaken?”

“N... nothing, Ms. Agatha,” Audrey lied. Agatha shook her head.

“Francine came in here this afternoon, before she and duke left, didn’t she?” Agatha crowed knowingly. “And I’m certain he didn’t exactly treat you well, did she?”

“Ms. Agatha, I shouldn’t gossip,” Audrey whispered nervously.

“Gossip? A-ha! Speaking on the duchess’s predilection for tormenting working girls is hardly gossip, Ms. Fisher,” Agatha guffawed. “Now, speaking on how Lord Parris returned home from what was to be a three day’s trip with her... perhaps that’s inching towards scandal,” Agatha smirked; Audrey blinked, voice swallowed by the gasp in her throat.

“L... Lord Parris, he’s returned already?” she asked, equally hopeful and confused.

“He’s asked to see you, in fact, Audrey. To deliver him tea,” Agatha intoned. Audrey played utterly foolish.

“Asked sp... ecifically for me? I’m... well, it’s been a hard day of work, perhaps Ana could help him,” Audrey requested meekly. Agatha regarded Audrey skeptically, sensing something amiss. Audrey kept her face straight, with a weak and tired smile on her lips.

“I don’t think it was a request,” she added in amusement. “I’ve already brought you tray to bring him,” Agatha said, gesturing to the silverware, porcelain cups and silver teapot on the table. Audrey cleared her throat, standing up; her feet throbbed, her back hurt; her knees ached. Everything hurt. Her hair a mess, still stained with some of the sweat of her encounter with the duke, she wobbled awkwardly toward the table, steadying herself against the edge.

“Remember what I told you, yes?” Agatha warned quietly. Audrey’s heart sank. She had already ignored the woman’s advice, and she could already feel the guilt in her gut.

“Y... yes,” she whimpered, carrying the tray towards the grand staircase. Each stair ascended hurt her heels, and the closer she got to the duke’s bedroom, the harder she breathed. Lord Parris had meant to be away from the estate for some time, with the duchess - why had he returned so suddenly? Her mind raced as she timidly rapped on the lord’s door, holding her breath.

“Enter,” came a voice from behind the heavy door as the handle turned. She inched into the Lord’s bedchamber, the familiar paneling and his extravagant bed bathed in moonlight. A candelabra cast quaint, faint light across the room, set upon the lord’s writing desk. He stood at the windows, without his shirt, watching the stars. Audrey skittered across the Persian carpet, setting the tea on his bedside table. She stood plaintive, her head downcast, silent, before moving to leave.

“Close the door, please, Ms. Fisher,” he requested sternly; Audrey’s breaths grew labored as her shaking hands pressed the door shut, in compliance with his powerful order. “Good,” he said. “We have to have a discussion about your work here, so far,” he said, his voice that heart-melting, baritone purr. She stood straight, stiff as a board, her back to the door, her hands quaking behind her back.

“M-M’lord, certainly, I’m... I’m always open to criticisms, to your... opinions,” her voice lilted weakly as he turned to face her, moonlight rippling along his strong abs and across his powerful, broad chest.

“There’s a lot to talk about,” his voice rumbled. “I met you, trespassing in a room you ought not to have been...” he murmured, and suddenly she felt him approaching her, like a hungry wolf sizing up a wide-eyed fawn. “Since then, Ana has informed me she feels your work is subpar... you spent all of the day lounging around in the dining hall, according to the Duchess Francine,” he listed the evidence against her piece by piece, and the more he spoke, the more Audrey quivered, fear and embarrassment bright-red in her cheeks. “Come here.” He beckoned her closer; she approached hesitantly, with stilted, staggering steps.

“I... I’m sorry, m’lord, but I spent... I spent all of today, working hard, to... to clean the dining hall, after our...” Audrey bit her lip, not even sure how to refer to their indiscretion - or whether she even should. He circled her now, eying her from head to toe; circling her, closer and closer, until she could feel his breath again, and it lit that fire she knew in her breast.

“And worst of anything,” he recalled with a sizzling finality, “you disobeyed me... you refused me. Do you remember that disobedience?” he growled into her ear. She could feel his hands now - strong, commanding; knowing just what they wanted. Even worse... knowing just what she wanted. She cooed weakly, losing herself in the deep and aggressive massage of his palms along her shapely hips.

“I... m’lord, I simply... I simply wanted to maintain, my... you’re... a noble, and I’m...” Audrey lost every thought she tried to formulate, so enticed by the touch of his hands and the hum of his voice.

“A serving girl?” he said. “You don’t think a serving girl could run the world, if she wanted?” he teased her, his hands gently massaging her breasts as he peppered her neck with hungry kisses, little nibbles; leaving her milky skin braised an erotic red.

“I’m... I try to know my place, in the world... it keeps me s... safe,” Audrey tried to reason with him - but moreso, with herself. Because the more he felt her body and the hungrier his breaths grew on her skin the more she wanted to take over the world, if it meant she could be with him like this, every night, as the dauntless serving-girl. “I don’t...” She felt it again; with a strength and an unparalleled precision, she felt him wrap her wrists tight in a leather strap; she gasped, having that control taken away felt so wrong and so right. She wallowed in the sense of submission; cradled in his arms he pushed her chest hard flat onto the bed, kissing down her neck and along her back as he lifted her skirt again.

“Your place in the world, Ms. Fisher... is here,” he breathed out lustily. “In my bedroom... repenting, for disobeying me... for being so misbehaved in your time here at the McClellan estate... I should punish you for it, shouldn’t I?”

“P... punish? M’lord, what do you mean?...” her voice trembled, full of fear and apprehension... and pure, unfiltered want. Expecting an answer, she instead got a hard, stiff spank on her rear; she yelped, swallowing hard as the handprint burned reddened onto her milky-soft skin. “M-m’lord! That’s...”

“I told you,” he growled down at her, “you need to be punished... so you learn to be a good serving-girl for your duke... don’t you?” he purred into her ear, showering her cheek with lusty affection before bringing his hand down hard into another cracking smack on her backside.

“M-m’lord! I’m...” she couldn’t even think of breathing the words aloud, but it felt... good. It felt like she never imagined it could. A grown woman spanked by the sexiest duke she had ever seen in her life... it made her heart nearly burst with how erotic she felt. She couldn’t believe it; didn’t want to believe it. “Th... this is so... wr-wrong,” she cooed.

“Is it?” he growled into her ear, spanking her again, as she moaned deeply at the feeling of pleasure-pain stinging her every nerve. “Is it wrong to admit our bodies want what they want?” he purred.

“M’lord, we... we must have some se... sense of decency,” Audrey protested weakly, secretly begging for him to spank her again, and again.

“Is it wrong for us to indulge how we like? Was it wrong for me, Ms. Fisher,” he huffed into her ear lewdly, “for me to abandon the duchess tonight... to return to the estate, because all my mind could dare think of is how good your body felt against mine? You’re all I could bloody imagine, Audrey,” he exhaled sharply, punishing her again with another sexy, stinging slap.

“Oh, god, m’lord, it...”

“Say it,” he demanded.

“It... f... feels so good,” she sheepishly admitted in a long, lewd moan. Gripped by the sound of her, Lord Parris tugged his belt free, letting his trousers fall away as he grasped her reddened rear and entered her roughly, both hands gripping those sore spanking spots as her bound, pliant, submissive little body shook with delight.

“You feel good,” he responded through gritted teeth, barely able to contain himself. He spanked her again, and again until she felt raw, and she moaned louder with each slap; with each thrust of his stiff shaft into her dewy feminine folds, it felt like lightning shooting across every nerve. Voracious he nibbled her neck, moaning, breathing, sighing her name, until he plunged his hardened length inside of her and cried out loud enough that all the estate could hear, echoing all through the moors. Biting her lip, she felt orgasm erupt in every inch of her, the pleasure even more intense than it had been the first time. He erupted, time after time, hotter and hotter until she was filled so completely with his hot release.

He gripped her hips, collapsing next to her with a sigh; she shrunk into his grasp, feeling heavenly; sublime. She didn’t know why she liked so much to be spanked, to be bound - and it felt so wrong.

But here, in his arms... everything felt right.

Chapter 7

It had plagued her mind for two days - Audrey had gone about her business the day after the night she spent with the duke, but Aunt Bette’s warning echoed loudly. So did Agatha’s, and the longer she kept this tense silence about herself and the duke, the harder it grew to stay silent about it. Every time Audrey passed Ana a in a hallway, fear froze her blood in her veins; each time she lied to Agatha about the night before, she felt a little more ashamed of herself. It had felt so good, so right - but what would anyone else think? Knowing Audrey was a dirty pervert who liked being spanked by her master?

Today the duke slept in; he had been out late the night before, and Audrey spent the entire night unsure, and... oddly, jealous. She sat awake in her bed in the maidservant chambers, staring at the ceiling, wondering what he was doing. She knew she had no room to be jealous. She worked at an inn. Now she cleaned floor and polished silver. What was she to do to a duke?

Now, she had been instructed to collect the duke’s linens, and with fury and fear and confusion in her mind, she stilled her beating heart as she knocked on his door.

No answer.

She knocked again, holding her breath. Still, no answer. It was nearly midday by now, but the duke had yet to rise, it appeared.

“M... M’lord, are you in there? Are you awake?” she whispered through the door, rapping calmly on its surface once more. No response came. Full of unease, Audrey took a deep breath and flung the door open, heedlessly entering, her slippers dragging across plush Persian carpets.

“O-oh! M’lord, I’m s... sorry,” she stammered, averting her eyes; a sheet swaddled about his waist, he bared his chest and yawned when the maidservant entered. He smirked, all full of lust and desire.

“You should knock before you come in,” Lord Parris murmured, his voice and his body so tempting.

“M’lord, I... I did, knock, several times,” Audrey giggled awkwardly.

“I know. And yet, with no answer, you still came in, didn’t you? A woman with initiative. I like that,” he whispered. “Shut the door,” he demanded, his voice taking that powerful and erotic tone that forced her quivering body to so wantingly obey.

“I...” Audrey thought to protest, her mind so full of questions, but she bowed, and complied. She clicked the heavy oaken door shut, turning back; still holding her gaze away from his face or his gorgeous body. “M’lord, I... I feel like we should... talk, about this.”

“Why don’t you want to look at me?” he purred, shifting on the bed.

“Wh-what? I... m’lord, you’re quite indecent, at the moment,” she stammered.

“I’m indecent at every moment,” he purred lustily. “What makes this one any different?”

“M’lord, I shouldn’t... be seeing a man, of your stature, like this,” she protested.

“Look at me, Ms. Fisher,” he asked. “You’ve had no trouble looking at me before.”

“M’lord, please, I have to beg your pardon,” she insisted strongly, resisting the urge filling every bone and muscle in her body. She heard the floorboards creak; now he stood, nude, in front of her, stalking her hungrily, just the way she secretly wanted.

“I know why you won’t look at me,” he whispered, circling her again; it all felt so familiar, the predator hungry for his simpering, sweet prey again. She wanted him to hunt her every day. “You don’t want to look at me, because you know if you do, you won’t be able to resist,” he growled temptingly into her ear, hands massaging her shoulders.

“M’lord, this... this isn’t proper!” she blurted in a wisp of a tone. “I’m...”

“Look at me,” he commanded again, his body naked, so gorgeous and so irresistible; she had to comply, this time. He had been right. She practically melted for him, her knees quaking; her cheeks bright-red as she bit her lip, taking in every part of his body.

“I... I’m sorry, m’lord, but... I don’t know about this, about this... relationship. These improprieties,” she huffed, nervous and afraid and angry.

“Haven’t we spoken about this before? You’re no mere serving-girl,” he hummed.

“But to you, m’lord, I am!” she shrilly squeaked. “I... I can’t be your wife, I can’t be your lover, I can’t bear your children, I... I can’t marry...” she began to softly sob. He encircled her in his strong arms, kissing her forehead. “I don’t... want to be a mistress,” she admitted, impassioned. The duke sighed, looking out to the windows; his gaze streaking across the rolling green of the moors.

“Audrey,” he spoke tensely, pain creased across his brow. “I don’t... a man of my place... there are certain expectations on his shoulders,” he admitted painfully. “It’s... something outside of my power. But that doesn’t mean that everything inside of me doesn’t burst with need at the very sight of you. I want you madly, and deeply, Ms. Fisher.”

“That’s...” Audrey sniffled, eyes closed in pain. “That’s what they said you’d say. That you’d take your liberties with me, saying everything to me... that I’d fall for it, and that I’d fall in love, even if I can’t have you,” Audrey tearfully admitted.

“Who said this?” the duke asked, his face twisted in muted anger as he stroked the maidservant’s hair.

“A... all of them, everyone,” she sighed in exasperation, shrinking beneath his strong grasp. “My aunt... Ms. Agatha... they told me to keep my dignity, but I didn’t,” she scraped her hands down his shoulder, the tears flowing freely.

“Audrey,” he spoke, his tone stern and warm, “do you think you’re just another woman to me? Just another maidservant?”

“I...” she sniffled. “I don’t know.”

“Station...” he sighed, looking out across the moors. “My station makes demands of me. But you’ve done something to me, something I hadn’t expected. It’s... true, what they say,” Lord Parris struggled to admit. Audrey squirmed, pain in her eyes.

“And you’re telling me I’m not just another woman?” Audrey challenged him. “I’m certain... you’ve said that to the others. Even to Ana,” she recalled.

“Ms. Rancourt and I... we had a brief affair, but she’s not a woman like you,” the lord’s expression grew vexed. “I don’t expect you to believe me. But let me prove it to you.”

“How wou... would you expect to do that?” Audrey swallowed hard, a quivering leaf in his strong arms; she felt herself lifted by his power, and his desire; he laid her across her bed, indulging her with sweet kisses along her neck; as they laid together, their lips met at last, and she felt all the things he wanted to say, but couldn’t find the words to, all in the way their bodies melted together amid the messy sheets. He grasped her wrists as they kissed, spreading them wide; with the lace hung from the bed’s canopy, he tied her wrists to the bedposts, keeping her restrained before she even realized it.

“M... m’lord,” she quaked.

“Do you want to know... the truth?” he huffed hotly, kissing waves down her body, his fingers delicately unlatching each button down the front of her gown, one by one, as his lips made sweet promises every single step.

“P... please, tell me,” she begged meekly.

“No one else gets to see me as I really am... no woman can indulge my deepest and darkest desires as you can, Audrey,” he purred, pulling the last button free, leaving her front bared. Her ankles came next; with great care he strapped them to the bedposts, leaving her tied down; helpless. Just as she’d been bound... just as she’d been spanked... it felt so scandalous, but she couldn’t deny him. She couldn’t even think about it - because it felt like nothing her body had known.

“I... I’m... I don’t know how I should feel, but it feels so good,” Audrey admitted sheepishly, biting her lip. “I don’t... I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself from wanting it.”

“You’re something different, Audrey,” he whispered. “You’re something primal... something real,” he breathed steam into her ear, his fingers grasping the burning candle at bedside. Her tender breasts and curves exposed as she lay helpless, he tilted he candle sideways, a tendril of hot, melted wax falling from the wick. The liquid clung to Audrey’s exposed curves, and she whimpered, body arching out intensely; the wax ran in a hot rivulet along her vulnerable, naked stomach, and while it burned at first the sensation made her cry, beg for more.

“I’ve never...” she started, swallowing a hard breath as she felt another tease of wax, along the cleft between her full, supple young breasts. Her heart erupted into a flurry of hot beats as his lips teased along her helpless and squirming body, tongue swirling around her left nipple as he whispered hotly to her.

“This is why you’re special,” he hummed against her skin. “No one understands the things I want... I don’t do this to anyone,” he admitted. “None of them are like you, Audrey... and I knew, when you melted, first feeling that belt wrapped around your wrists... I had to have you.”

“P... please, m’lord, I...” she gulped deeply. “I don’t understand this, I don’t know... why it feels g... good,” she said. “I... I’ve never experienced...” his tongue plunged deeper, licking a lascivious and lusty trail of damp saliva along her body as the wax seared hot on her skin. She felt her plush femme bead, throbbing hot, as he tongued in gentle circles around her clit. Her hips bucked out against him involuntarily; she tried to reach down and grasp him, but those damn binds kept her tied tight. Completely submissive to her master, he pleasured her with his talented tongue, twirling along he folds. The duke savored every twitch and squirm, and there were many; her body shook under his dancing tongue, and she was completely at his mercy.

“I want you to hold off, until I tell you,” her master demanded, his thumb now relentlessly twirling around her bead, his tongue beginning to dip deeper into her pouting, feminine folds. She took in a deep breath, face full of fire; it felt near impossible, as all the things he did to her made her feel waves of fulfilling release bubbling up in her chest right now. Instead she fought hard; her breath so intense she nearly hyperventilated, her limbs shaking hard in their bonds.

“P... please, master,” she murmured, her hips bucking hard against his adoring lips and his wandering tongue. “Pl... please,” she started to cry out louder, unable to hold herself back any longer. “Pl... oh god!” she exclaimed.

“Not yet,” he demanded, even as his tongue slipped deeper into her sweet folds, tasting her and teasing her.

“I c... it feels so good,” she crooned, feeling the sensations fill her faster, and hotter, her chest squirming and her entire body pulsing with throbbing sexual intensity. He dipped deeper, tasting her insides, taunting and teasing her clit, until her moans reached a fevered pitch, echoing loud through the windows, over the fields outside the estate.

“Now,” he demanded, and she complied, her orgasm coming hard and intense down every limb, just like he told her to. She called her lord’s name, over and over again, until she couldn’t even speak from the strain in her throat. She gasped, heaved, until the very last wave of her powerful orgasm left her limbs, moaned from her lips, leaving her exhausted.

“M... M’lord,” she exhaled sharply. “I...”

“You don’t need to say anything. Lay with me, here, until we have to face reality again,” he murmured, full of lamentation. He crawled to her side, their bodies twining together as he let her loose of her bonds.

“I like... calling you master,” she admitted sheepishly into his ear.

“It’s accurate. I am your master,” he smirked.

“I... I know,” she nodded. “But...”

“And you are my servant. My perfect, supple, beautiful servant... with the perfect sense of impropriety,” he kissed her cheek like the devil he was. Audrey smiled dreamily.

If only they could stay like this forever.

Chapter 8

Revulsion filled Audrey’s chest. She dreamed all night about staying in that bed forever - tied up, serving him; his submissive, pliable and pretty companion; his to play with, in all the wild ways he could imagine. Instead, this morning, he watches the duke fritter away his hours preparing himself for a date with another woman - a woman she cannot stand.

“Don’t you have business to be attending to, Agatha? The last time I visited, I found your staff loafing lazily about in the dining hall!” Audrey could hear Duchess Francine from the third floor; sullenly dragging herself down each flight of stairs, she emerged into the foyer, hopeful to spend a moment with her master before he parted. “Ah, and here she is! The lazy maidservant, in person,” Francine sneered. “I’m surprised you’re still a part of the household staff. Or, considering Agatha’s track record, perhaps I’m not so surprised.”

“Do you feel better now, duchess?” Agatha asked snidely.

“No, I can’t say I do,” Francine intoned even harsher. In her golden gown and red corset she stormed across the foyer, until she stood nose-to-nose with Audrey, who shrank away, quivering in quiet fear. “Have you been heeding my advice?” came a seething warning through the duchess’s lips.

“Wh-what? I’m— m’lady, I have—” Audrey stammered. She hated having to hide the truth, but she knew what it could mean for herself - and for the duke - if word slipped of the bond they had begun to share.

“Haven’t you taught your help how to talk properly yet, Agatha?” Francine howled.

“She’s perfectly capable of speaking, duchess. Perhaps she just has no desire to speak to you?” Agatha always stood up for her staff, and Audrey felt a hint safer, knowing the strong, older women would defend her.

“Did you hear what I asked?” Steely fingers grasped at Audrey’s fire-red hair and tugged; Audrey howled in pain, and Agatha’s expression turned grim.

“Don’t you dare touch her again. I don’t care how much money you have or whose station you’re in or if you’re sleeping with the damned queen, Francine, you don’t touch my staff,” Agatha snarled, stepping forward. All it took was a few stern steps for Francine to let Audrey free.

“Good. That’s better,” Agatha nodded. “Now, go wait in your carriage. Outside of my estate.”

“Your estate? I’ll be telling Bryce about that one,” the duchess scoffed, turning in a fury and clacking her way through the door, throwing it shut with a loud clatter. Audrey, near tears, straightened her hair and smoothed her gown, keeping herself composed.

“Don’t let her intimidate you,” Agatha reassured Audrey. “Lord Parris would never abandon any of us to her wrath, as much as she likes to throw her station around.”

“Th... thank you, Ms. Agatha,” Audrey replied meekly.

“Is Francine causing trouble again?” his voice came to her hopeful ears like water to a man in a the desert; her eyes lit up as she watched the duke, clad in his finest suit, rushing down the stairs towards the foyer.

“M’lord,” Audrey nodded, blushing; she expected a kiss, a hug, maybe... something, anything.

“If she did, I apologize ladies. Have the bedchambers tidied before I return yes?” he requested, smiling that stately smiling to Agatha and Audrey. Then... gone. He breezed out the door, with little regard for Audrey. She felt her heart sink; with a deep sigh, she realized this is what she would have to deal with. Being a mistress. A hushed lover, kept behind closed doors. Shoulders slumped, she dragged herself up the stairs to the second floor, watching the cart carrying her forbidden lover and the woman he had to make appearances with off into the distance, between the rolling verdant hills.

“Oh, Audrey?” a familiar voice, full of scorn, struck the young housemaid’s ear. She glanced heated over one shoulder and caught sight of Ana - a sadistic smile on her face, her long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail that she twirled knowingly with her fingers. “I wanted to ask you about something. Could you come check the study, with me?” Audrey gulped.

“I... the one on this floor?”

“Yes, just here, around the corner,” Ana beckoned young Audrey on. She followed, hesitant; Ana had never acted in so friendly a manner. The moment they rounded the corner into the study, Ana’s expression shifted to abject rage; with a wide swinging arc, her palm slapped harshly across Audrey’s face, leaving a blooming redness on her skin. Shocked, Audrey held her hands up to defend herself, unsure of what Ana had in her head.

“H-how— why? What— what are you doing?!” Audrey squeaked, stumbling backward from the force of the strike, landing in the overstuffed chair in front of the study’s desk.

“Did you think you could get away with this forever, you little viper?” she snarled, rage thick in her voice. “How dare you think you can traipse in here off the street and try to take my place. You filthy harlot!” Ana drew her hand back as if to slap poor Audrey again, the younger girl wincing, recoiling in her chair.

“I-I didn’t do anything! Ana, please— calm down!” Audrey squeaked in terror.

“You didn’t do anything? You did EVERYTHING! Everything you know you weren’t supposed to! I warned you,” Ana shrieked, her voice tense, like a coiled snake looking to strike. “I warned you. And now I’m going to make sure your life is as much of a disaster as you’ve made mine!”

“Ana, plea— please, calm down! Talk to me,” Audrey pleaded.

“Talk to you? I tried! I tried the day you set foot here, and you didn’t listen. Instead, you had to worm your shrill, harpy way into the master’s bedchamber. How dare you!” Ana exclaimed, absolutely shaking with rage.

“Ana... I don’t... I don’t know what you think you know,” Audrey swallowed hard, her voice trembling. “But—”

“Are you going to try to lie to me? Do you think I’m deaf? Do you think everyone in the whole manor is deaf?” Ana snarled. “We’re not, Audrey. I warned you.”

“I’m... you misunderstand,” Audrey nervously babbled, “that’s not... it’s not what you think.”

“Yes, it is, and if you lie about it one more time to my face I’ll make things even worse! Sleeping with you, a commoner,” Ana spat in disgust. “And one so young. You know the scandal it could cause for the duke. And for you,” Ana threatened.

“What... what are you trying to say, Ana?” Audrey whimpered, sinking deep into the heavy chair.

“I know everything. And soon, the duchess will know everything. And if you think I’m scary,” Ana growled threateningly, “you’ll never see anywhere except the streets of London again when she’s through with you.”

“Ana, you can’t—”

“So you’re admitting what you did now, are you?” Ana intoned snidely.

“Ana, please, you can’t— it will ruin my aunt, my family, and it will make things so much worse for the duke,” Audrey begged, her face mortified. “You have to understand what... what telling her would do.”

“I understand completely. If you had listened to my warning, instead of trying to replace me, trying to HURT me,” Ana seethed in jealous rage, “this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Please, Ana, you’ll hurt the duke— I’ll do anything!” Audrey cried out painfully.

“Anything? You mean like taking back what you did and breaking it off with the duke?” Ana suggested coyly. Audrey’s heart plummeted, her stomach churning; she felt sick, her eyes and mouth agape in shock.

“Ana, you...”

“I made an offer. You can accept it, or I’ll be telling Francine about everything you’ve done,” Ana gave the cold ultimatum.

“I... the duke, he’ll be... we’ll both, be...” Audrey stammered.

“Audrey? Audrey!” Agatha hurried up the stairs. Standing in the doorframe, Agatha glanced with a curiously surprised visage at her two maids. “What’s... what’s going on in here? Ana, are you harassing poor Audrey again?” Agatha scolded.

“Harassing? Was I harassing you, Audrey?” Ana asked, an evilly satisfied smile on her face. Audrey’s breath rumbled like fire through her nostrils as she staggered out of the chair, to her feet.

“N... no,” Audrey painfully replied, knowing the bind she was in.

“Are you sure about that? Because you sure don’t seem sure,” Agatha skewered Audrey with a skeptical gaze.

“We were having a discussion about some of the duties around the house. Weren’t we, Audrey?” Ana coaxed a response from poor Audrey with an intimidating scowl.

“Y... yes, that’s all, Ms. Agatha,” Audrey sighed.

“Worry about your duties around the house later, then. The duke’s returned, and he wants to see you, Audrey,” Agatha said. Audrey’s face lit up briefly, before Ana’s cutting scowl brought her back down to reality.

“I’m... I mean, what... what does he want to see me for?” Audrey swallowed hard.

“I don’t rightly know, but he returned in a hurry. He’s waiting in the foyer for you. The duchess rode off, and by the sound of her screaming, she was none too amused by the duke’s return,” Agatha chuckled. Like a cruel slave-driver, Ana nodded to Audrey. As Audrey anxiously stepped towards the grand staircase, Ana shadowed her, anxious to see the outcome of her devious plot.

“Audrey,” the duke spoke in an urgent voice, before Audrey had even reached the ground floor. “We need to speak. Privately, away from all of this. I’ve prepared a carriage for the two of us to ride in to the town. Come, Agatha will help dress you in something more appropriate - we have a lot to talk about,” he said, in a tone firm and serious - one Audrey had never heard the duke speak in, in all their time together. He seemed anxious, almost - worried. Audrey looked back up the stairs. Ana stood watchful at the top of the stairs, shooting a dangerous glare at the young maidservant.

“A... actually, m’lord, I... we have a lot to take care of, here, I should probably get back upstairs to help Ana with the cleaning,” Audrey mumbled, painful tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. Lord Parris stopped dead in his tracks, tilting his head curiously.

“...Excuse me, dearie?” he asked quizzically.

“I’ve... you know, I’ve rethought a lot... about all of this,” Audrey stammered. She couldn’t stop herself from crying, crying hard; she wanted to collapse on the stairs, her legs barely able to keep her standing through this emotional torment. Ana watched closely, darkly satisfied by the tears and the hurt flowing from Audrey. “I’ve... maybe, maybe my aunt was right. Maybe you’ve just talked sweet, and... and I don’t... I don’t know, I have to rethink all of this. I’m not... going with you, Audrey stuttered through the tears.

“...Ms. Fisher, what are you talking about?” the duke asked, baffled. “I’ve already gotten the carriage ready. We’re expected. We can think about things together, and—”

“I’m not going to be a mistress! I’m not... I’m not going to be... this,” Audrey broke down, falling to one knee at the foot of the stairs, tears flowing and staining her cheeks red. “This... this has to be over. I can’t...”

“Audrey,” the duke’s voice fell to a quiet whisper. “What’s gotten in to you?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I can’t be... party to this, anymore.”

“There’s a lot I have to tell you. You have to understand. Please, come with me. We can talk about your station, our situation...”

“There’s no talking,” she sniffled, standing up cold as ice. She glared up the stairs to Ana, who stood perched by the rail, gleaming with corrupted pride. Fighting back another wave of tears, Audrey pulled herself out of the duke’s comforting embrace and dragged herself towards the maid’s chambers.

“Audrey, this— you can’t just walk away from this. I can’t just walk away from this,” the duke insisted. “I realized — I realized I love you.”

“I have to, I’m sorry,” Audrey howled back to him, slipping into the maid’s quarters. The moment the door shut she slid to her knees against it, the tears flowing free and hot and raw.

The wicked witch had gotten her way.

Chapter 9

One week.

Audrey had figured one week would be enough time. Enough time for the letter to reach the city; for her aunt to prepare her old room. Audrey could only imagine the verbal lashings she would receive on returning disgraced back to the family inn in London. She had done just precisely what her aunt had warned her against doing - she’d started to fall for a man she could never have. Worse yet... she had endangered her family name, called scandal down on the house she was meant to serve.

Sitting by the smudged window in the maidservants’ chambers, watching carriages and wagons roll slowly along the rural cobblestone paths, she contemplated her fate. Packed bags and sacks full of her clothing, her effects - those same sacks that she had arrived with, soaking-wet in the pouring rain - lay gathered around her chair while she recalled that trudge through a darkened, mired storm. It felt like it had been so long ago, and she had learned so much about herself since then. She had learned she wasn’t the chaste creature she thought she could be, so easily - she had learned so many dark things about herself that the duke she had started to fall in love with brought so proudly out of her.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I’m still quite puzzled,” Agatha asked, arms crossed atop her chest as she watched clouds begin to gather over the moor. Caravans and commoners hurried along the paths; gray midday clouds blotted out the sun, and thunder rumbled a muffled noise in the distance. Soon it’d be raining, and Audrey would leave the McClellan estate similar to how she had arrived - save for the extra heartbreak.

“I... I have my reasons,” Audrey’s voice quavered. She didn’t want to leave. But she knows she has to.

“What reasons are those?” Agatha asked, insistent. Audrey had discussed leaving with Agatha after the day in the foyer. She knew she couldn’t stand to stay here - with a man she loved, but could never truly be with.

“Why do you insist on pressing her? I’m sure she has good reasons. Hasn’t she?” Ana stalked her way into the maidservant’s quarters; her very presence brought a dark cloud over Audrey’s heart, her eyes downcast and her hands shaking. She fought back tears as Ana loomed closer, her expression rough and wicked. “Hasn’t she?”

“And what business is this of yours?” Agatha bellowed angrily. “You’d been the woman complaining about too much to do around the house, before Audrey arrived. Yet you seem quite amused by her sudden and unexpected departure. Perhaps I ought to wonder what sort of hand you had in it,” Agatha’s eyes narrowed, anger seething through them as Ana approached.

“What hand I had in it? What makes you think I had any hand in it?” Ana played innocent.

“That smug smirk on your face tells me a whole lot, woman,” Agatha rumbled, squaring up with the much smaller, intimidated Ana.

“S-mug?! Agatha, I put up with quite a lot from you, but—” Ana stuttered.

“Perhaps something to do with that conversation I happened upon, but a week ago?” Agatha retorted, rage bubbling up. “Perhaps I should’ve been the one doing the smacking.”

“Agatha— please,” Audrey begged meekly, feeling the tears start to fill her eyes. “I don’t... don’t want this to happen. You still have... to work together, with Ana,” she sighed. Smugly Ana took a step back from Agatha, sneering.

“I don’t smack,” Agatha warned, still standing tense and staring at Ana. “You’re lucky, for that. That I would never strike my girls.”

“Good,” Ana snarled. “I came by for a reason, you know. The duke - he wants to speak with Audrey before she leaves. She needed me to let you know,” Ana smirked, giving that knowing glare to Audrey. “Your last conversation with him... it feels so surreal, doesn’t it?” Ana’s devious voice sizzled in self-satisfaction. Audrey’s heart thumped. She didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t even want to see him again - it felt too painful, knowing she had to leave. For his sake - and for her own.

“Yes,” Audrey nodded, crestfallen, to Ana, who put on a snotty, facetious smile.

“He’s up in his bedchamber,” Ana said. “You should hurry, yes? Your carriage will be arriving soon. To take you back to the city. For good,” Ana spoke coldly.

“Y... yes,” Audrey admitted. That quiet ‘yes’ told Ana all she wanted to know, and her evil smile grew. Audrey sucked back her tears and dragged her feet through the foyer, taking step after painful step one at a time through the hall. Face to face with the door to his bedchambers, memories rocked her mind - memories once so pleasing and idyllic, but now memories to be swept away; forgotten in shame. Memories she can never relive. Memories of how she let herself fall in love with someone who could never truly love her back - memories, now evidence against her, by that wicked Ana.

She rapped softly on the door. Little strength remained in her limbs. She hadn’t slept in days. She wanted to load herself into the carriage and sleep for hours on the ride to London, though she knew all she would likely accomplish on the ride back is a long, painful cry.

The door opened; the duke looked out, his eyes tired and wary; a dusting of stubble spackled across his chin. He examined Audrey, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath. Muddled light poured into the bedchambers; she could see it hadn’t been tended in the entire week they had been separated from one another. Sheets lay in a messy bundle; chairs sat askew, clothing strewn across the Persian rugs.

“Ms. Fisher,” he acknowledged her coldly. Thunder rumbled louder, and the soft patter of raindrops against the estate’s roof and windows started at an unsteady, jostling pace. “Agatha informed me today will be the day that you leave the estate. Is that true?” Audrey swiped a stream of tears from her cheek; seeing his gorgeous face, so stricken with pain - the same pain she carried - forced her to crack. Tears streamed heavier, faster; she pulled a handkerchief from her apron, using it to sponge away reddening streams of melancholy.

“Y... yes, today, today’s the... the day, m’lord,” she nodded. “I... Agatha, and Ana, and the other girls, are more than capable of... of filling the gap, until you can find so... someone else to come on-board with the staff.”

“Okay,” he answered, his voice cold and rigid; not that smooth and seductive tone he had taken with her in their first encounter; not the steamy and dominating tone that could reduce her to smoldering, sexy embers in an instant. She had never heard this side of him - and she interpreted that it was a voice of true hurt. Real pain.

“I... I should get ready to go, here... my carriage to London should be arriving,” Audrey said with a long sniffle.

“A storm is coming,” the duke commented in a distant voice. “The ride could be rough. Dangerous. Keep yourself together.” They stood awkwardly; neither wanted to look at the other. Pain seethed in Audrey’s nerves every time she dared look at his face; dirty, his hair matted, the stubble so uncharacteristic. She thought to reach out to him. That he hurt just as much as she did, over this.

“O... okay,” Audrey responded, breaking a moment of tense and confused silence. Was that all he had left to say to her? She didn’t want to believe it was. She wanted him to embrace her; for all of this to go away, but as long as the duchess and Ana existed in the duke’s life - and as long as he stayed the Duke of McClellan - she could only watch, and she could only cry.

“Your carriage is arriving,” he murmured, watching the rain start to pick up; lightning flashed through the windows, and the clop-clop of horse hooves echoed beneath the rain’s patter, as the vehicle approached the front door. “You should go down. Now,” he exhaled sharply, before slamming the door shut. Audrey blinked, shock in her nerves. Not a kiss... not a hug. Not even a goodbye. She’d leave behind the man who had claimed her virginity and who had taught her what it was to feel like a woman, without even a parting word.

“I love you,” she mouthed silently, staring at the door as the tears flowed freely. Footfalls creaked up the stairs behind her.

“Audrey, dear?...” catching the girl crying, concern crossed Agatha’s face, and she rushed to cradle the maidservant gently in her arms. “Audrey, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Everything happened, everything that shouldn’t have happened,” Audrey admitted weakly, the sobs throbbing painfully in her voice. “The duke, the duchess... I got in the middle of a mess, and Ana—” she stopped herself with a sniffle. “I... I shouldn’t. I just need t... to get out of the estate, Ms. Agatha. I’m sorry for letting you down.” The old woman’s face twisted, stony; she deciphered the story in her mind, shaking her head sagely.

“You have nothing to feel bad about. I’ve never seen the duke like this, and—”

“Ms. Agatha, I need to go,” Audrey silenced the old woman’s emotional ponderings. She didn’t want to let anything else get in her way. She needed to get back to London. It was the only way to keep the duke - and herself - safe from Ana’s scandal. And the duchess’s wrath. She didn’t want to hear anything else that would convince her to try again. Agatha sighed.

“Very well,” the old woman’s shoulder slumped in disappointment. Audrey pulled herself from Agatha’s comforting embrace, facing the cold of reality once more. She trudged down the stairs once again, her tears stopping; she couldn’t cry anymore. She’d cried enough. Now, sobered by the pain of stress and loss, she dragged herself to the front door, pulling it open. The splash of dewy raindrops immediately struck her face; the valet, a portly man in a rickety wooden cart, hurried from the carriage to the front door.

“S’a hell of a storm out there today, love,” he commented cheerily. “Get yer pretty self into the carriage, savvy? I’ll grab th’ luggage, load it up.” That, at least, was a relief. Audrey stepped sprightly through the puddles of rain pooling near the front door, rivulets of water rushing between uneven cobblestones. She pulled open the squeaking carriage door, rain soaking through her linen blouse, and she hauled herself onto the stiff bench seat, exhaling deeply as she pulled the door shut behind her. Alone, now - so alone, with only the pitter-patter of rain on the roof to keep her company.

Quiet. Audrey looked out the window, across the moors - gray clouds darkened the sky, trees swayed in violent breezes. A knock on the carriage door interrupted her discordant, jumbled reverie; she opened it to see the valet.

“S’it the stuff in the other room?” the valet asked. “Yer luggage.” Audrey sighed in exasperation.

“Yes... in the back room, the maidservants can show you,” she exhaled, pulling the door shut again before too much rain flooded her cabin. Stilted quiet again. Nothing but her own thoughts to suffer with. Like detritus the storm would wash her away, carrying her back to London, leaving the idyllic fields and the palatial, rich halls of the duke’s estate - and all the promise and love and the bright future it represented - behind her.

Audrey had just begun to close her eyes when another, loud knock pounded on the carriage door. She sighed, pushing it open.

“The luggage are the sacks in the maidservant’s quarters,” she said, exhausted. “They’re—”

She could say no more before a pair of powerful, wet arms embraced her; a pair of pillowy, inviting, perfect lips pressed against her own. She quivered, knowing that kiss and those hands like she could know no other - and when she opened her eyes she saw him; his suit soaking as the rain fell hard across his body. A moan fell from her lips; he got her wet, soaked with the falling rain, and she wanted nothing else. For a moment she thought she was dreaming, but when his voice rumbled into her ear she knew he was real.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he demanded. “I love you, Audrey Fisher... I love you, and I have to have you. Not as a mistress, not as a side lover, not as a game. I love you, and I’m making you mine,” he growled. She had wanted to hear those words for longer than she even knew, but they did little to massage away her fears.

“M... master,” she trembled, “I... I can’t, we can’t. Ana... if she tells the duchess, there’ll be scandal, scandal that will ruin you, and me—”

“I don’t care about scandal. I don’t care about station, I don’t care about what they expect of me. I will have you, Audrey Fisher, if it takes pulling the stars from the sky,” he moaned into her ear, pulling her out of the carriage and into the rain. They embraced, and kissed like they had never before; with passion, power, and vigor.

“Come with me,” he demanded, in the powerful, enticing voice she knew so well. He took her wrist, and everything felt so right again as he led her back into the estate.

Chapter 10

“I told you before... that I had darker tastes that I felt I could only indulge with you, Audrey,” the duke purred as he led Audrey up the stairs, gently squeezing her wrists. His hand on hers reminded her so vividly of the tight leather, binding her wrists together; keeping her soft, pliant, and so aching with want for him to do everything to her supple body. “There’s... more, there’s a lot more,” he admitted, his voice tense. “More that I want to do with you... you’re the only woman in the world who has ever made me feel so alive. And it’s why I have to have you... it’s why I love you, Audrey Fisher.”

“M’lord,” she whimpered.

“Bryce,” he insisted, looking back at her as they entered his bedchambers. He shut the door... and locked it, tight, behind them. “I’m Bryce... but,” he added, “to you... in our bedroom...”

“Master,” she whispered breathlessly. He grinned, the first time she had seen him grin in so long. She stood, shivering in the cold; he moved to her back, unfurling the cords keeping her dress tied back. The garment fell loose on her shoulders, wet parts of it clinging to her softly-blushing, pink skin; with kisses to warm her, he peeled her dress away, until she stood damp and naked, as the storm raged outside of Bryce’s open windows. The breezes curled around both of them, making them shiver together; he kissed away the cool rain with his hot lips, from her hips to her breasts back to her neck. She blinked, quaking in want; and then, the world went dark, as he pulled a black cloth back across her eyes. Panic set in at first; she felt so tense, giving up her every sense - not just her physical freedom, but now her sight, to her master.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered hotly into her ear. She so relished feeling that breath against her skin, and while the fear still pumped adrenaline into her heart, she certainly couldn’t deny that something so hot and so dirty made her feel so good.

“Please, I want to trust you,” Audrey murmured, her voice all full of tense steam. “I don’t know... what to feel, I’m so conflicted. This could cause so many problems, for both of us,” she breathed out, those last lingering doubts clouding her mind. “We don’t know what... what could happen, if the duchess found out about us—”

“Trust me,” he huffed heated into her ear. “Not just in the bedroom... but elsewhere. Trust me,” his voice felt so hot and perfect on her skin and she surrendered herself to him, leaning back against his body. A ruffling had preceded him removing his own jacket, and now his bare, wet chest hosted her, his arms telling her a thousand secrets with how hungrily they cupped her breasts and held her tight. “Do you trust me...?” he asked, his lips on her cheek.

“I trust you, master,” she whispered; and then, she found her body lain against the sheets of his bed; she couldn’t see anything, but she could feel the silk and the soft down beneath her.

“If you trust me. Obey me,” he growled into her ear, like a feral wolf pleased with its pliable prey. “You’re going to feel new things... don’t move... don’t make a sound... okay? Or else...” he threatens lustily, “I’ll stop... and you’ll feel nothing... so are you going to be a good servant to your master?” he exhaled sharply. She didn’t know what awaited her; darkness shrouding her senses, her ears felt hyper-active, picking up every quiet tossle and ruffle and movement of her dirty duke-lover behind her. His breath tickled her cool body and she waited; she waited, and listened, not sure what could be coming. What he had in mind.

“Don’t make a movement... don’t try to stop me... not a sound,” he whispered again. She felt so sweet in her surrender, until like a strike across her nerve came the cold ice pressing along her skin, overwhelming her senses with a shock of chill through her nerves. She felt him, drawing slow, teasing circles around her body; he turned her over, her back arching against the searing-cold, searching cube, which left trails of damp, freezing wetness across her chest. He rolled it around her sensitive nipples, causing them to perk uncontrollably; and while it made her feel uncomfortable at first, she followed his rules. She didn’t reach to stop him. And before long... with the sensation of his hot breath teasing the freezing water, she didn’t want to.

“M...” she almost broke one of his rules - she wanted so badly to call out to him, but she stopped herself, her cheeks burning beat-red. She couldn’t see him - but all at once, it stopped. The icy-cold left her body to wriggle in the stormy breeze; she heard his footsteps soft across the Persian carpet. Was he leaving her? Had she broken his rules? Would she be punished - and not in that lewd, hot, filthy way that she had been spanked before for her transgressions?

Instead, she heard hinges creak - and silence. Deafening silence. The storm began to calm for a brief moment, and even the howl of the wind and the rumble of thunder left her. Her breath began to dance painfully in her chest as she lay prone, blinded; afraid he had left her as punishment. But she couldn’t remove the blindfold to find out. Instead she waited. So agonizingly, she waited; she felt her exposed, femme petals quiver with anticipation; her breath rattle with intensity. She wanted it so badly. She wanted him - but he had vanished, and she laid, quivering. Was he there? She fought the urge to call out. To scream - to beg, to plead. To apologize to him for breaking his rules. She just wanted him again, god please. Just as her anxiety reached a fevered pitch, her breath caught in her throat, and her lips parted to call out to him, when she felt a sharp, panging SMACK against her exposed rear. She yelped, and tensely swallowed it, before she could make too much damning noise.

It felt so different... not his hand, no. Something different - something small, sharp, stinging... but she loved it, even so. Just like the painfully pleasant stinging of ice-water on her skin, she felt that sharp, quick slap against her rear and it made her every sense buzz with want. She wanted to moan, she wanted to scream, but she couldn’t - lest she ruin this utterly perfect, utterly improper experience.

Thwap! It rang out against her skin, the mystery object, and she strained, trying to feel just what he had retrieved to torment her with, so temptingly. With each hard slap she felt the pain burn hotter and sexier in her veins; then, again, and it felt so good she couldn’t even breathe. She squirmed on the bed, uncontrollably, her limbs jittering with scarcely-contained pleasure.

“I told you, my servant... no moving... didn’t I?” she felt her master’s breath tease her ear, and panic struck her brain; she wriggled and vigorously shook her head, stopping herself from crying out. She wanted so badly to apologize, but she couldn’t say a word. “Now you’ll need to be punished... denied,” he huffed. She felt the blindfold untied, and her stolen sight returned - only to find her gorgeous master in front of her, nude, his long, stiff shaft hardened in his hands as he stroked it in front of her. She reached out reflexively to taste it, to feel it - and she couldn’t believe the thought had even subconsciously occurred to her body. In a week, he had unlocked all those desires within her, and now he denied her. And the more he denied, the faster he stroked himself in front of her helpless, hapless body... the more she wanted him.

She wanted to peep up at him so much, but she couldn’t. She watched. She watched and it hurt, it hurt how good it felt to be denied. She didn’t know what to think - she had never felt something as intense as this pleasure, so intense it felt like she might just pass out from the sensation surging in her veins. He stroked harder, and faster, and now she breathed so hard the moans couldn’t be contained inside of her quaking breast.

“Not yet,” he insisted; she arched out to try to taste him, and he held her firm, fingers twining between her fiery, damp locks. She whimpered. “Not yet,” he growled again, teasing her; his hot, sweltering tip pressed against her lips and she tried to taste it, but he punished her with a gentle squeeze of her locks. “Behave,” he demanded, “or else I’ll punish you more... you’ll have to watch... is that what you want? Only to watch?” Like an obedient young servant she violently shook her head, feeling so overwhelmed with hot sensation that her breath quivered out a string of unintelligible, whispery sounds. “Tell me, now,” he said, “my pet - you can speak. But only if you tell me what you want.”

“I want y-you,” the sound erupted from her lungs, having been built for so long in her quaking chest. “I want you,” she reaffirmed.

“What do you want?” he demanded, squeezing her hair.

“I want to feel you inside of me again, please, I need it,” she said, craving so badly to feel him; he teased her lips again with his swaying shaft, reddened and bulging beneath his stroking, strong fingers.

“What do you want to feel?” he demanded explicitly, and the dirtier she talked he dirtier she felt. So dirty, but so damn enticed, like nothing she’d felt before.

“Now, I want you to enter me and to pump me full of you, please, master, I’m begging,” she quaked, her words barely even understandable as each broke apart beneath the full, flowing force of a moan.

“Don’t you dare move,” he threatened, stroking her chin; he pumped his length in front of her, before moving to her rear, squeezing it; he gripped what she made out as a riding crop, spanking her again in a hot, punishing flurry. Each one forced her rear up, higher, and higher, until her backside perked high into the air. He teased her sensitive, pillowy femme folds with his hard length, taunting her with the reddened and shuddering tip, slipping it in just an inch. That was enough for her to scream out in intense, gripping pleasure.

“Don’t,” he teased again. “And you don’t you think about climaxing, not without my permission...” with that she felt her folds erupt in pleasure as he entered her hard and fast, stretching her tight, young folds like she had never known before. She fought hard as started to fill her dirty body with all those perfect thoughts, throwing away the chains of burden and anxiety and vulnerability that had plagued them. She bites her lip, feeling the sensation welling up inside of her. Finally, she could feel him harden stiff inside of her tight depths, and she bit her lip, closed her eyes, her leg trembling; her heart throbbing.

“Now! Obey your master,” he exhaled sharply as he came to his explosive peak inside of her, filling her over and over again with wave after hot, steamy wave of his masculine, milky release. She came with him, reaching her heavenly apex as the otherworldly, amazing sensations rocketed along every nerve and fiber of her being. They rode their illustrious orgasms out together, him deep inside of her and her quaking against him, doing just what her master told her to.

When those perfect sensations finally passed, they laid together, squeezing one another tight; listening to one another breathe. Their lips met in soft, sweet kisses; the storm began to subside, and they protected one another from the windows’ cool breezes by squeezing, kissing; gently massaging each others’ bodies.

“I do love you, Audrey, and I have to have you. For good,” he whispered into her ear as they held each other close.

“I love you, too. I wasn’t sure, but... I know it now. No matter what... I love you,” she quaked out those forbidden words, feeling so good at the hesitant admission. “But... what can we do? About the duchess? Ana, she knows...”

“Why do we need to worry?” he asked nonchalantly. “I’m Lord Bryce Parris, remember?” she blinked.

“I... I know you are, but...”

“Just let me handle it. Okay?” he smirked.

She trusted him.

Chapter 11

Bang bang bang bang bang!

A torrent of loud banging startled Audrey awake from a heavenly sleep. She slowly came to her senses, realizing that the day before hadn’t simply been a tawdry, runaway dream. She laid naked, swaddled in the soft silk sheets of her master, the Lord Parris - in his bedchambers, beneath a gossamer canopy, as birds chirped and sunlight streamed through the open windows, the comforting scent of morning dew and fresh grass wafting through the windows. As the clouds of sleep cleared from her eyes she yawned, glancing curiously across the room at the door. Throwing his silken robe over his chiseled body, Lord Parris glanced back at the bed, smiling warmly at his now-risen lover.

“She certainly can’t make an entrance without waking the entire estate,” he sighed. A little twinge of fear filled Audrey’s heart, and concern vexed her expression.

“Who’s there? What... what happened?” she murmured, trying to keep her voice quiet over the banging racket outside the bedchamber.

“Who did you think?” he smirked devilishly. “Time to face all your fears, my darling,” he commented in a playful sing-song. Audrey’s heart raced - she had guessed it was the duchess, but she couldn’t quite comprehend how the duke felt so nonchalant about the situation.

“M... m’lord,” she murmured.

“Bryce,” he coyly reminded her.

“B... Bryce, I’m not sure— you don’t seem worried at all.”

“Why would I be?” he asked playfully. Audrey blinked, pulling the sheets up around herself and standing up from the bed, letting them hand down her like an elegant silk dress.

“B... because, this could... this could cause so much scandal—”

“When have I been one to shy away from scandal?” Bryce grinned and winked at his blushing lover as she skittered towards the door. “I court scandal almost as aggressively as I’ve courted you, Ms. Audrey Fisher.”

“I don’t think this is the time for games,” Audrey said gravely.

“Who’s playing games?” Bryce smirked, quite full of himself. “You worry too much. You’re going to have to learn something if you’re going to be with me, Audrey—”

“M’lord!” Agatha’s voice pierced through the ruckus; the knocking stopped, but a flurry of muffled murmurs continued beneath her authoritative tone. “M’lord, we...” Lord Parris abruptly opened the door, revealing the contents of his bedchamber - including the sheet-clad, surprised, blushing-cheeked maidservant, and his own robe-clad body... and the ruffled bed, behind. In the doorway stood a wide-eyed Agatha, with fury-faced blonde Duchess Francine and Ana behind her. Agatha’s expression of shock faded into one of coy, knowing satisfaction, putting the pieces of the last week’s puzzle together.

“Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt, m’lord,” Agatha cleared her throat. “But, we’ve... guests, waiting for—”

“I do mean to interrupt!” Francine exclaimed, shoving Agatha aside. The rather-quite-larger woman grit her teeth at the duchess’s impetuousness, but kept her temper in check, glaring quietly at the blonde in her gossamer, sky-blue gown. “How dare you? How dare you?!” she erupted at Bryce, who stood with his arms crossed just inside the doorway. “I’m fortunate to have at least one friend in this household,” she exclaimed. Ana slunk up behind the duchess, her arms crossed, rage creasing her face.

“How dare you, you little harlot! London harlot,” Ana exclaimed, pointing a thin finger at Audrey. “I told you from the day she arrived, Agatha, that she’d be trouble.”

“Trouble for who? Trouble for me, or trouble for you?” Agatha exclaimed, quietly amused. “She’s never been trouble for me, ha!” Francine and Ana started an angry hole through Agatha, who stood firm, satisfied at the turn of events. “If anything, you’ve been more trouble lately than I care to admit in rarified company, Ms. Rancourt.”

“How could you!” Ana shouted.

“It doesn’t matter! That whore, sleeping in your bed, using your sheets!” Francine exclaimed arrogantly, marching across the Persian rug. Audrey winced, expecting the same sort of furious slap Ana had given. “I warned you about the duke!” Francine shrieked, vitriol and jealousy thick in her throat. She drew her hand back to strike - only for Bryce to interrupt her with a strong grasp on the duchess’s wrist.

“Stop,” he commanded.

“Wh-what are you doing? Unhand me!” Francine shrilly squeaked, trying to pull herself away from his grasp. “She’s using you! The harlot, the whore! Sneaking her way into your life like a viper.”

“Sneaking?” Bryce chuckled.

“You slept with her! How could you?! Imagine the trouble it will cause in London!” Francine protested, tearing her hand free, her blistering anger focused on Bryce now. “You’ll be ruined! We’ll be ruined!”

“We? Who’s we?” Bryce questioned mockingly.

“Wh... what? What do you mean, who’s we?! I’ll forgive that, just this once,” Francine glared at him angrily.

“There’s no ‘we’, Francine. You want my station and my position. And my wealth. That’s fine. But you’re not getting it,” Bryce sighed pleasantly. “I don’t need you. I don’t want you.”

“What?! Don’t test me, Bryce, I’m not in the frame of mind for it,” she snarled. “I’ll forgive you, again, but say something else so outrageous—”

“Agatha, my dear,” Bryce interrupted the fuming duchess, “is the duchess’s carriage waiting for her outside?” Panic ran through Ana’s face as she saw the exchange, realizing her devious plan was falling apart.

“I do believe it is,” Agatha commented slyly.

“What? You’d dare eject me from your estate?!” Francine shouted. “You wouldn’t! Sleeping with this street scum, you’ll never last at court!”

“You know what, Francine? You may be right,” he admitted coyly, as Audrey watched with a grin slowly growing on her hesitant face. “But I don’t rightly care. I love Audrey Fisher, and no one - not you, a royal court, or any scandal-sheet writers - is going to get in the way of that.” With nothing else she could possibly say in protest, Francine stood, shocked; slack-jawed. Ana swallowed hard. Audrey smiled, wider and wider. “Now, Agatha?”

“Don’t you dare touch me,” Francine scowled. “I’m not going anywhere—”

“Time to go, Francine,” Agatha smirked, grasping the diminutive woman with her powerful hands and wrenching her out of the doorway, nearly throwing her onto her rear. Francine stumbled, wincing in pain.

“Okay, okay, I’m going!” she seethed, tearing herself from Agatha’s grasp. “I can’t believe this. You’ll regret this, Bryce!” she exclaimed in a heated huff, turning on her heels and loudly storming her way through the hall, and down the stairs. Agatha turned and with a motherly stride grasped Audrey, hugging the surprised and sheet-clad young woman warmly.

“You wear your emotions for everyone to see, Audrey. Somehow, I knew you’d be something special,” she admitted.

“You— how could you do this to me?!” Ana erupted; even without the duchess to back her up, she seethed with pain and anger. “I... I gave you everything, I... that witch!” she pointed at Audrey. “I’ll tell everyone! You’ll be ruined, you whore,” Ana’s body shook in rage-addled grief.

“Agatha, dear, I hate to burden you with too much extra work, but how would things in the household go if Ms. Rancourt took a leave of absence?” Bryce asked, concern on his face. Audrey frowned, honestly feeling sorry for Ana, in spite of the vicious blackmail that nearly ended her relationship with the duke.

“Leave of absence?! I run this household! You think anything would get done without me?!” Ana exclaimed. “That whore, she’s twisted your mind!”

“I do believe it’s you, who twisted minds and feelings, didn’t you, Ana?” Agatha scowled. “I’ve protected you, I’ve worked with you for years. I trusted you. You were one of mine, and I always protect one of mine,” she rumbled.

“What do you mean?” Bryce raised a brow, laying his arm gently across Audrey’s shoulders.

“Ana, I saw that face - I heard you, screaming at Audrey, the day you dragged her into the study. I’m not nearly as deaf, dumb or blind as you think I am,” Agatha chastised. Ana’s body shook as realization set in. Audrey’s expression hardened, satisfied to see her oppressor treated so harshly.

“I... I did what was best for the duke! D-do you know what would’ve happened? If the duchess found out?”

“And then you ran off and told her, to get back at Audrey and Lord Parris, because their love interfered with your plans, didn’t you?” Agatha crossed her arms. “I’ve always backed you up, Ana. And now you’ve broken that trust.”

“I... you can’t...” Ana stammered.

“Agatha, can we?” the duke asked.

“We can,” Agatha’s lip twitched. She sighed deeply. “Ana, you’re relieved of your duties. We’ll arrange for a carriage to take you out of the estate tomorrow.” Ana trembled, hate in her eyes. She stayed silent, crestfallen; shocked, before running back into the hall, stomping her way down the stairs.

“She’s not the only one, Agatha, I’m sorry to say. You may be a bit short-handed,” the lord said with a smirk, squeezing Audrey tight to his side.

“Is that right?” Agatha asked curiously.

“Of course. You’ll also be accepting Ms. Fisher’s resignation from her position,” he chimed happily. Both Audrey and Agatha shot concerned expressions to his smirking face.

“Wh-what?” Audrey’s voice quivered nervously.

“Well, you’re going to have your hands full, aren’t you, Ms. Fisher? A bit too full to live the life of a maidservant any longer,” the duke chuckled. Agatha smiled knowingly, bowing as she returned to the hallway.

“I’ll arrange for everything tonight, m’lord,” the old woman said, throwing a coy wink Audrey’s way before sauntering back down the hallway.

“M’lord, I don’t... I don’t understand. I want to work with you, I’ve... I’ve done an excellent job, haven’t I?” Audrey asked, afraid. The duke assuaged all of her fears with another passionate kiss, one more tender than any they had shared before. A kiss to remember - the first of many memories they would forge together.

“You’ve done an excellent job as maidservant, Audrey... but I have a feeling,” he quipped casually, “that you’ll do an even better job in your new vocation. Duchess Fisher,” he smirked. Her face lit up. “Or, perhaps, after the wedding... Duchess Parris?”

“W... wedding, and...” she knew she wanted it, but she didn’t know just how much, until the sound of his name, and how little he cared about all the scandal, truly set in. She kissed him again, and again, and he returned, with all the same adoring vigor as she.

Duchess. The more Audrey thought about it, the more she liked it.

“Is this your way of... proposing to me?” her voice shook.

“I’m not asking,” the duke purred, “I’m telling.”

“Good,” Audrey cooed into his ear. She twined her fingers in his - but he instead grasped her wrists, and with a devilish smirk on his lips, pulled her wrists behind her back, in that sensuous, submissive position she had grown to love so, so much. He kicked the door shut behind them, breathing hot into her ear.

“We have a lot to do together, my duchess,” he sighed hotly into her ear, kissing her passionately, pulling the sheet away from her pretty young body.

“I... know...” her voice trailed away, gripped in delicious heat.

“We can start simply... as long as you listen to my every command...” he hissed.

“I can’t wait to, m’lord,” she exhaled.

“Bryce,” he corrected her. She smirked.

“No,” she said, hands trembling as their bodies enmeshed so hotly. “Master.”