JACK
“Looks like another Stanley heir is on the way. I heard that she gave birth to her last child in the car.” Annabella is right there, once I turn back around and prepare to return to my guests. Seeing Alex, who is usually so calm and collected, reduced to sheer panic may have added a little humour to the evening, but now that he’s gone, I can’t help feeling like I’ve been left to the dogs. All this was his idea; I felt a lot more confident about it when I had him by my side. I’d just been rehearsing the toast I'd prepared in my office; I was ready to grab the bull by the horns and deliver it, but now I’m starting to wonder if any of this was a good idea.
“Looks that way.” I shrug as I move past her; the last thing I want is her hanging off my side all night. I couldn't have made my feelings towards the girl any clearer, yet she doesn’t seem to give in.
“Jack, we could make an announcement tonight; make all this worthwhile. I know why you’ve thrown this party. You’re looking for acceptance. Do you have any idea how respected my father is by everyone in there? Anyone who doubts that you deserve your title would soon change their opinion, if you jus?—”
“Annabella, it isn’t going to happen. I’m not the marrying kind, and even if I was, you're not the type of girl I would go for.” I didn’t want to give it to her cruelly, but her relentlessness leaves me with no choice.
“You mean I’m not a whore,” she sniggers. “I’m not naive, I’ve read the tabloids. I know all about the life you have been accustomed to, but that's not your reality anymore. How do you intend to have an heir if you won’t marry?” she questions me, folding her arms across her chest.
“Having an heir is the last thing on my mind right now,” I lie, because these past few weeks it's been all I’ve thought about. I don’t know why I feel the duty to uphold this family's legacy; my duty to my father should have died with him, and yet something inside me that feels a lot like fucking pride won’t allow me to fail. I keep questioning why he named me as his heir and beneficent when he had Thomas, primed and ready to take the role. Maybe I want to believe that the old man was proud of me. That he believed I was his best choice. I want to believe it so bad that I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to ensure I don’t give him cause to regret it. What I’mnotprepared to do is marry Annabella fucking Linchford.
I march back through the front door, into the room full of strangers. Marion Tilsley quickly snatches her daughter's arm and starts dragging her towards me, while my father's old business associate takes the nudge from his wife and starts moving in on me, too. I can feel them closing in on me, judging me, and yet wanting to use me for an advantage. It’s suffocating. I want to scream, demand that everyone leave. I’m not a fucking duke. I didn’t grow up around this; I’m not seasoned and savvy when it comes to etiquette and polite conversation. I want to feel like myself again, no pressure, no responsibility, and I can’t do that with all these eyes on me.
I keep moving forward, avoiding eye contact with all the masked faces, rushing towards the stairs without causing a scene so I can lock myself away for just a few minutes and catch my breath.
Cecelia is right. Annabella’s right. Eventually, I’m going to have to settle, commit myself to one woman, because there is no way I would want the bastard life for a child of my own.
Swinging open the door to my room, I flick on the light and stand still and silent when I find something very unexpected in front of me.
My dresser has been shifted to the side, and a perfectly round ass, dressed in black lace, is raised in front of me while the person I’ve just caught rummaging through the safe stops dead.
Slowly, I close the door and step up behind her, and when I see what she has in her hand, I shake my head and laugh.
“What are you doing?” I ask, as she sheepishly turns her head to the side and looks up at me. I recognise the eyes beneath her pretty lace mask immediately. The same eyes that have been torturing my thoughts since last week. “You?” The words come out weak and startled, and although the circumstances are unfortunate, I'm surprised at how relieved I am to see this stranger again.
“I was just…”
“I don’t think you're going to find that dog of yours in there.” I smile cleverly.
“Honestly, I know how this looks, but I was just?—”
“I can see what you were doing.” I snatch the necklace from her hand and kick the safe door shut.
“Get up!” I order, and despite the look of hatred in her eyes, she does exactly what I demand and straightens herself up in front of me.
“Can’t I just expl–”
“You know this necklace was made for a princess?” I cut her off, remembering the story my mum told me about the duke who had his heart broken. I could tell she found it relatable. I’d been wondering where my father was keeping the cursed little heirloom. I had no idea that this safe in my room even existed.
The girl says nothing, just holds her head high and stares right through me, attempting to look fearless. She looks so different dressed in the tight, lace dress that matches her mask, and I can’t help thinking that this necklace would look exquisite draped around the rough, little diamond neck.
My fingers would look good there, too.
“What are you doing in here?” She studies me in confusion.
“What am–?Thisis my room.” I laugh at her audacity.
“No…This is the duke and duchess’s room.”
“I don’t know if you heard, butIam the duke.” I take in every detail that's visible on her face; I can’t recall ever paying such attention to a woman.
“I know that, but I thought—I’m…I’m sorry. I really am. I just wanted to look at it. I’ve heard the stories and–”
“Bull shit.” I tuck the necklace into my pocket out of sight.
I watch her forehead crease into a frown when she realises I’m not buying her story.
