Page 3 of My Ruthless Duke
“Take me home at once! You cannot speak to me like this! I am your mother!” Lavinia started, her short burst of anger and indignation fading into child-like whines. “I amtired, Cordelia.”
The crunch of wheels on gravel was like a lifeline to her as their carriage was pulled around. They did not have much staff left to them as their estate was bordering disrepair, but at least their horses were still healthy enough to lead a carriage. For now, at least. Panic and dread overcame her—as it always did when she allowed herself to think about the future. Something her mother seemed to have wholly and utterly given up on.
With the assistance of their footman, she helped her mother into the carriage like a dutiful daughter.
She longed to go back inside and pretend that this was all some bad dream. But she was becoming less and less welcome among her peers with every passing week. Even her friends could not show their support for her in the ton anymore. Soon, she and her mother would be all alone—destitute.
As the carriage pulled away, her mother’s head hit the side of the carriage wall, her eyes already closed. Sleep would hold Lavinia for a day or two, Cordelia hoped.
We cannot go on like this.
Chapter 2
“Do you realize your crime?”
The only sound in the room apart from the crackle of the fireplace was the governess’ soft sobs. Dorian Hashen, Duke of Davenport, understood what it was that she was hoping to accomplish. Every few moments, she would glance up at him from her position on the floor with overly widened eyes, hoping to appeal to his better nature and be released with an inferior punishment.
Unfortunately for her, he did not have a better nature.
“P-please, Your Grace… I did not… I shall never do this again!” The woman blustered, fat tears making tracks down her red face. He would not be moved. Least of all by pathetic displays of emotion.
“What should your punishment be, hm?” Dorian mused, easing back into his chair. He plucked at the worn leather of the armrest idly, not even bothering to look at her as he spoke. “Flogging? Imprisonment? Or, perhaps, you would rather share the late duke’s fate?”
Only then did he look at her. He enjoyed the way her face paled, the fear entering her eyes.
Dorian’s reputation for patricide was renowned. Everybody in thetonassumed that the only reason he inherited his title at such a young age was because he murdered his father in cold blood to get it. The governess in front of him was well aware of that same reputation, judging by the sheer panic on her features. She ought to have known better than to cross him. Knowing that his reputation preceded him, why anyone would dare to test him was beyond him.
“I shall never do it again, Your Grace, please, I beg of your—show mercy!”
“I do not think that you have earned any mercy. Your acts were willful and deliberate,” Dorian answered, leaning forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees.
“Your Grace, perhaps if we asked—”
Dorian’s gaze cut sideways over to where his butler stood on the side of the room. His hands were respectfully clasped in front of him, and the moment he realized Dorian was looking at him, he stopped speaking immediately. Dorian’s hand lifted,two fingers gesturing to the butler to stop speaking. This quarrel was not with him, and while he sympathized with the older man’s conscience, it would not serve him here. The butler’s mouth snapped shut, and it only took half a moment before the governess seemed to understand that her only possible ally in this interrogation feared the duke just as much as she did. The woman fell forward, her body bowed in front of her, her hands clasped together in some form of prayer as she muttered her apology over and over again.
If nothing else, he hoped that her fear would cause her to think twice before ever harming another child again.
Dorian’s lip curled upward, derision clear on his face as he leaned back in his chair. He flicked his wrist for the butler to collect her. “Get her out of my sight. Don’t youeverset foot on my lands again.”
The relief was instant as the governess started to utter words of gratitude and praise the moment the butler lifted her off of the ground, half dragging her. The moment that she was on her feet, she scrambled so quickly out of the room, that Dorian was certain that it was not going to occur to her that she had left all of her belongings until she had run off of his grounds entirely.
The butler stood silent for a long moment, staring at the open drawing-room door and the wake of the terrified woman.
“Your Grace, did you have to be so hard on her?”
Dorian’s brow arched as he looked at the man who had served his family for longer than he cared to remember. It was the only reason that he was allowed to say such things to him. He did not care for his judgment or choices to be called into question.
Not even a beat later, his youngest footman came running into the room so swiftly that his shoes squeaked against the polished floor. “Your Grace! You were right about her! We have recovered two golden gilded candlesticks from the governess’ bag!”
Dorian’s lips wore the ghost of a smirk as he waved his hand at the butler as if to say, ‘see?’.
“Your Grace, she must have had her reasons… she…” The butler appealed, but Dorian was in no mood to be heard.
He rose from his seat fluidly and started toward the front door. “Summon the constables. Have the horse master ride out and catch her. I will not allow her transgression to be dismissed now that the evidence is right in front of us.”
“Your Grace–” The butler started once more, and Dorian rounded on him.
“If it were your grandson, Monty, would you allow awormof a woman to lay a hand upon him? To steal from him?” Dorian hissed through clenched teeth. “I think not.”