Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
If it was, then why did it feel like he was still punishing her for it? She said entreatingly, “I o-only did it because I d-didn’t w-want to risk doing anything t-that could m-make people laugh at you—-”
“I said, leave it.”
Mary flinched.
Bloody hell. He had done it again, hurt her without wanting to. Why couldn’t she just obey him, blast it. Didn’t she understand that pretending may eventually be the only way for them to stay together, the only way to stop realizing what the rest of the world had long been telling them?
“Let’s just not talk about it, all right?” Rathe suddenly felt tired and older.
She nodded.
“I’ll see you tonight. Maybe we can even have dinner together if I finish work early.”
Mary forced a smile. “I look forward to it.” But she only said it for his sake, only held on to her smile until he left. She knew her duke better than he realized, and her guts told her Rathe hadn’t meant a word he said.
Chapter Seven
“...Miss Mary?”
Hearing Rathe’s heavyset middle-aged housekeeper speak had Mary blinking out of her reverie. It was close to seven in the evening, the day nearing to a close, and she still couldn’t make herself forget about this morning’s episode.
Shaking the thought away, she glanced up at the housekeeper with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Emerson. You were saying?”
“You have a visitor.” Although the tone was respectful, the housekeeper’s gaze was filled with undisguised animosity. It was, unfortunately, not anything new. From the first day she had come here with the duke, Mrs. Emerson had made no secret about her dislike of her.
“A visitor?” Mary repeated in a bemused tone, choosing to focus instead on the housekeeper’s message. It was pointless to dwell on the woman’s rudeness. For all she knew, the housekeeper’s less-than-welcoming attitude may only be due to her being protective of her master. The way Mrs. Emerson acted, it was as if she had been in the duke’s employ for decades, a position that indubitably gave her certain rights.
Mrs. Emerson sniffed again. “Half an hour ago.”
Mary’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Half an hour ago?”
Mrs. Emerson only stared at her dourly.
A visitor had come for her half an hour ago and she was only being informed of it now? Gritting her teeth, Mary reminded herself valiantly that the mistake could just be due to the housekeeper’s advancing age.
Setting aside the book she had been trying but failed to read, she asked, “Do you know who it is?”
Something resembling a smirk flitted over Mrs. Emerson’s lips. “The Dowager Duchess of Flanders.”
Her jaw dropped. “Rathe’s mother?” This time, it was ten times harder to believe that the mistake wasn’t deliberate. Unfortunately, she had no time to question the housekeeper.
“Please just have someone serve tea in the drawing room. That’s where she is, isn’t she?”
The housekeeper nodded, but when Mary turned to leave, she heard the older woman mutter under her breath, “If you want to know who your visitors are, you should have opened the door yourself.”
Mary badly wanted to turn around and answer back, but she satisfied herself with just taking more deep calming breaths.
There had to be a reason Mrs. Emerson was acting like that, Mary told herself as she practically ran towards the drawing room. Time, she reminded herself. She just needed enough time to show Mrs. Emerson she truly loved the duke and it would eventually be all right between them.
By the time she reached the drawing room, which was an entire wing away from the library, Mary was panting. Halting when she reached the doorway, she found Rathe’s mother seated on one of the sofas, calmly reading a magazine while sipping tea.
“I’m s-so sorry, Your Grace,” she stammered.
Alyssa glanced up, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw Mary’s face red with exertion and the young girl doing her best to catch her breath. “Are you all right, dear?” she asked as she stood up.
She had found it surprising that the young girl would make her wait so long, but seeing Mary now, Alyssa instinctively knew that someone else was to be blamed for it.
After executing a quick curtsy, Mary met the dowager duchess halfway. “I’m f-fine, Your Grace.”
She flushed when the older woman kissed her cheek in greeting, feeling like she didn’t deserve such warmth. “I’m truly sorry,” Mary apologized again, unable to help it. Mortification made her cheeks redder as she mumbled, “I can’t explain why I’m late, but I...” She badly wanted to tell Alyssa about Mrs. Emerson but in the end, she found it impossible. Something in her found the idea of tattling abhorrent, even if keeping quiet meant being accused for something she wasn’t at fault for.
“I’m just really sorry,” Mary said finally.
“It’s okay, my dear. I didn’t mind waiting.” Taking the younger girl’s hand, Alyssa drew Mary to join her at the sofa. “You just came back from school?”