Chapter 18

The duke was clearly on deaths door. The doctor, Mr Simon, A young man with incredible credentials, had estimated that he didn't have more than a month. He had worked tireless under the young dukes command to help cure his father and as a close friend of the duke he had vowed to do his best.

What exactly the illness was, though, he couldn't pinpoint.

I expected someone to care.

At least an old family member, but the only ones who cared were the servants whose jobs were in unstable futures.

The duke was dying. And nobody cared.

I hated that I felt bad for him. Even as he glared at me from the bed. Too tired to move as he spoke words in a mindless daze, not caring who was present.

"You're that bastard child born from that other bastard. A bastards bastard. How fitting for scum", he said to me as he awoke from a restless slumber where his eyes did not shut and his body was in a constant seizure.

The words made me seize up. I had heard those words a lot as a child. Unable to help recalling the whip in his hand alongside his towering body.

"You look just like that bastard", he continued, teeth grinding. A familiar vengeful gaze sparking furiously in his gaze.

"Pardon me, my duke, but the doctor advised you to rest so you can recover", Martha tried to block him. She always did try. But he snapped at her as he did countlessly.

"Hah? Recover?! I'm going to die! And it's all because of that stupid bitch!" His gaze that still stared at me made me feel small and little, like I was back in his study. Trembling when he reached for anything. A pen, a stamp. A letter opener. A lighter. "Your father tried to ruin my family and instead he ended up with a bastard. He thought he could pretend you didn't exist! But who would've thought you would not only look exactly like him but have that same wretched personality!" His body began to shake so furiously that the maid had to hold him in place.

We had all heard this a dozen times now. He had spoke these words on constant repeat. Each time with more ferocity and only when he caught sight of me.

I found it unfair that he judged me based on a father I had never met nor seen. Sure we were related but we might as well not be. And it made me question as I did countlessly growing up.

What did that man do?

"Has he calmed?" A maid asked when the shaking came to a still.

"Yes it seems", Marthas voice was low and tired. I felt enough guilt for her that I patted her back.

"I'll watch over him. You get some rest. It will be an hour before he acts up again", I reassured her as she gave me a concerned look. She was clearly too tired to argue and nodded thankfully as she left.

A few other maids followed along. Wanting to catch a break whenever possible, switching out with other maids if the couldn't handle coming back.

I watched the weak man as he drifted into his glassy eyed slumber. His hands that had once frightened me, where now akin to sticks. They look like they could break at a slight raise in the wind.

Eventually I settled to staring at my own hands. The blistered, red and hideous skin. The dirt filled nails that I could never keep clean. There was a time I fantasised about beautiful, pale, smooth hands. Something I only ever saw on noble women and men alike. Their hands looked so soft to touch. Mine on the other hand…

And then my mind drifted to Justin. It did that all the time. The moment I found a second of peace. And it ruined that moment of peace as my heart would ache and I felt a yearn for the wide shoulder to rest a head on. To feel his breath in my hair, whispering sweet nothings to me.

"Who are you thinking about to smile so sweetly?" Kassie, a younger maid whispered to me with a mischievous smile.

I flinched at the unexpected voice, forcing myself to stay calm as I looked to her in confusion.

"I wasn't smiling", I answered, but then I realised that my lips were indeed smiling. "Oh… I am smiling?"

She giggled quietly.

"Whose the lucky man?"

"Man?" I blushed. Was it obvious?

"Oh~ it seems like you've fallen deep. Is he handsome?"

"Handsome?", my face somehow flushed deeper. "Yes. Very handsome".

He was handsome…

"Ohh? Well that's unfortunate then", she sighed as she turned back to the duke.

I suddenly realised that I had spoken very foolishly. I shouldn't have just spoken out like that. If rumours start to spread then…

The only thing that consoled my racing mind was that I hadn't said who.

Before I could even think to answer the door opened and the young master entered the room. He looked around the room in disdain as his eyes finally settled on his father. He lifted a hand to excuse everyone.

This meant waiting outside until he left. It was better than staying the duke I supposed as I made my way to the door, but my hand was snatched away from its tidy spot beside myself by the young master.

I wanted to snatch it away. But I didn't. And just as I submissively stood by him, I caught a whiff of alcohol and realised that the young wasn't standing on steady feet. He hid it well, but the occasional limp gave him away.

He was intoxicated and yet we still have to obey him. Even when he's not in his right mind.

'A maid does not defy her master'.

"You stay", he said, not even bothering to throw me a glance.

Nobody questioned it. Nobody questioned him. And they all left the three of us alone.

It was at that moment that I realised I hadn't ever been in alone with these two while they were together. It was only ever with duke or with the young master, though it made no difference in the pain inflicted on me.

"Father", the young master approached the bed ridden man. "Your eyes have sunken so deeply. You look terrible, as if your past sins have come for you at once".

I looked towards the snarling boy in surprise.

Did the Duke beat him as well?

Just as I thought that he reached for me and pulled me in front of the barely conscious man who looked to be stirred slightly, but made no moves to actually wake.

I stared at him and then the young master sharply spoke in my ear, voice filled with anger.

"Strip".

I flinched at the words and turned to look at him to make sure I heard that right. He stared right back at me, gaze full of fury as he repeated himself, this time he was more imperative.

"Strip".