JACK
“Isuppose I’ll be seeing you at dinner?” Gracie smiles sweetly when I finally release her from my lap. The way she bites her lip before she leaves has me thinking that she’s looking forward to it.
Resting back in my chair, I nod at her as she leaves. I take a deep breath when she’s gone as I try to figure out what's happening to me. The feelings I’m developing are borderline obsession. It’s too much, too fast, and I don’t know how to get a handle on it.
I was so angry when I found her on top of that ladder; she doesn’t seem to sense danger, and her determination to discover what was beyond the wall made her forget that it’s not just her she has to think about now. Knowing what I know of the girl, I’m certain she’ll make more attempts to get her answers. Pulling open the top drawer of my desk, I reach for the brass ornate key that I assume opens the wooden door that would unveil all her curiosities. Mother always kept it; it was among all of her most treasured possessions. I know from the stories I’ve been told that the space on the other side of the wall was theirs. Somewhere, they could be their true selves. Carefully, I placethe key back, closing the drawer and deciding it shouldn’t be disturbed. I know how important those memories were to her.
My door opens without any warning, and when Cecelia marches through, she looks ready to commit murder.
“Is this a joke?” She slams her wedding invitation on the desk in front of me.
“Ahhh, glad to see they’ve started to arrive.” Lifting it up, I examine it, impressed by the design the wedding planner I hired has come up with. “The quality of this paper is perfect, don’t you think?” I grin at her and watch her mouth curl when I offer it back to her between my fingers.
“I am the Dowager Duchess. How did I know nothing about this? You should have confirmed the date with me before making anything official.”
“Why?” I laugh at her.
“This wedding is in less than three weeks. We knownothingabout the girl. She has no title, no lineage; she’s just–”
“She’s perfect.” I cut her off before she says something she might regret.
“I told you that I have been datingGraciefor some time; your concerns aren’t necessary.”
“Some time?” she scoffs. “Some time? And at what point during that time did you decide she’s fit to be a duchess?”
“Relatively quickly. Unlike my father, I’m choosing to marry for love.” I stare the old crow right in the eyes as I deliver the first of many insults I have for her.
“You are going to be the ruin of this family, and something's telling me you're doing it all out of spite. This is all just a big game to you. A revenge plot because you weren’t loved by your father the way you wanted to be.” Her voice rises, and the hatred in her eyes becomes darker.
“At least we share one thing in common, Cecelia.” I stand up and calmly make my way to the door, holding it open and signalling that it’s time for her to leave.
She starts making her way out, and just as she turns to have the last word, I talk over her voice.
“Did it ever occur to you that father was the one playing the game? That leaving everything to me was his own revenge plot for the years he had to spend pretending?”
She huffs as she struts on by, making her way down the corridor and back towards her quarters.
“How did you spend your afternoon?” I ask Gracie, nodding to the maid once dinner has been served. I’ve started excusing her from standing and waiting for instruction while we eat so we can be alone together.
“I called Sophia; sounds like the girls are really enjoying the apartment.” She smiles fondly. “Polly’s still pissed off with me, but I’m sure she’ll soon come around.” Her smile fades as she stabs her fork into her broccoli and looks unimpressed by it.
“It’s rich in iron; good for you and the baby,” I explain.
“You mean the baby that hasn’t even been conceived yet?” Her eyes roll, again…but her smile makes up for it.
“You don’t know that; you could be sitting there, knocked up right now.” I can’t hide the satisfied grin that thought gives me.
“You're very optimistic.” She sips her water and places it down gently. Something about her is different tonight; she seems extra playful, almost accommodating, and I must remember to keep my guard up.
“I’d like to know more about how you ended up in jail.” I bring it up, slicing into my perfectly cooked steak.
“Maybe that's a question you should have asked before sowing your seed, My Lord.” She hits me with more sarcasm, hoping to distract me from my question.
“Perhaps.” I shrug. “Enlighten me.”
Her eyes drop to the table, and she quickly loses all her confidence. Seeing the smile fade from her face has me wishing I hadn’t asked, but it’s something I have to know.
“My mum died when I was ten; I was put into a foster home, and it wasn’t a very nice one,” she starts to explain, scraping her food around her plate instead of eating it.
