I have no power here. It could be a sack of coal, and I would still say I love it.
The rooms, however, were the epitome of luxury. Her quarters consisted of her bedroom and a dressing room directly adjacent to it, which she would examine later.
Her bedroom was an opulent one with high ceilings and heavy antique furnishings. The air was still, holding the faintest scent of citrus wood polish.
A massive four-poster bed, white velvet hangings tied against the posts; it was draped with white cotton sheets and piled high with white pillows. The marble fireplace loomed, tall and cold.
Everything inside was immaculate, clean, and opulent even without the antiques decorating the fireplace mantels, sideboards, or walls. She was afraid to move the wrong way and bump against something that cost more than half the objects in her old home, and smash it to pieces.
Her old home was full of constant chatter, laughter, and the bustling activity of her family. In contrast, the calm silence at the duke’s home unsettled her.
“I adore this room,” she said honestly. “Thank you. I know you did not have much time to prepare.”
“It’s our pleasure,” Mrs. Tully replied, pleased. “Would you like luncheon to be served in your drawing room or in the breakfast room?”
“I—” she paused. “My drawing room, I think. Thank you.”
“Please, settle in,” the housekeeper curtsied. “I will be back soon.”
“Thank you,” she replied.
As the door closed, Ariadne sank to the nearest seat, and the little strength she had vanished. Hunching over, she coveredher face and sucked in a breath. Her chest felt tight with the indecision to either cry or scream.
“Emily?” Cedric strode into his daughter’s room expecting to see her in the schoolroom, as it was a school day. “Are you in here, pumpkin?”
He could easily pull her away from Mrs. Grimes for an hour and explain to her the situation; he did not want Emily to suddenly happen upon Ariadne and get confused.
The door to the schoolroom was open, and he pushed it in to see Emily tipping on a stool she had stacked on a chair while balancing anopenbag of Jamaican coffee beans in the crook of the door.
“Emily.” He said firmly.
She startled, but the bag—miraculously—did not overturn on her. He strode in and easily snatched the bag from the crook of the door and gave her a stern look. “What on earth were you trying to do and were you willing to break a bone doing it?”
Shoulders falling, she pouted. “I was only trying to give Mrs. Grimes a little scare. She is so dull, all the time.”
“Where did you ever get this?” he asked while tightening the bag.
“Cook leaves the pantry door open at times and I distracted her while I got another girl to get it for me,” Emily said.
Cedric felt a headache start to blossom. Not only was she breaking the rules, but she was roping another innocent soul into her crimes.
“Emily, you cannot do things like this,” he said sternly. “It is not ladylike, and it certainly is not appropriate.”
This time, she pouted. “It was harmless. It’s not like I released a den of snakes or put fireworks under her bed.”
“No, it was not harmless,” he said. “You would have wasted a week’s worth of coffee—” and I drink that for my sanity “—and it is mean-spirited to Mrs. Grimes, Emily. You do not need to become mean-spirited toward anyone. It is not what we are and how we strive to become.”
True regret dampened her face, and he knew his point had been made.
“I’m sorry, Father.”
“Promise me you will not do that again,” he said.
Emily took a seat, dropped her head, and plucked at her skirts. “I promise.”
The defeat in the child’s voice struck a chord inside him, and he knew that there would come a time when he needed to sit the girl down and ask her why she was getting into these antics—but that was for another time.
Taking a seat, he said. “I need to tell you something, and I need you to understand that nothing about this changes the things that matter,” he said.
