Content warning: This chapter includes scenes of unwanted physical contact, coercion and emotional distress that may be triggering to some readers.
HER
I think we're going unnecessarily slow.
The horse walks at a leisurely pace down the dusty lane. Between the horse, the weather and Aleksi, I'm burning up and I've already had to ask him to stop and let me take off my jacket and roll up my sleeves.
He seems deep in thought, which suits me fine because I'm too flustered to form coherent sentences anyway. I'm admiring the way the evening sun shines through the leaves of the trees when he finally speaks.
"Would you tell me everything? I mean," he breathes deeply. "What happened before you came here? And after?"
I blink, needing unusually long to decipher his words because they're spoken so close to my ear it sends my heart pounding.
Then the anger sets in.
"You already know." I snap at him, wishing he could see the ire on my face.
"Tell me like I don't." It sounds almost like a plea, but that could be his proximity making me imagine things.
"Why should I?"
I feel his slow release of breath tickle my ear, shifting stray strands of hair.
"Trust me just this once, please?"
Him and his 'please's' today. If I wasn't on a very scary large animal maybe I would squirm at the change in his attitude.
As it is, I wring my hands.
I had pictured this countless times, finally telling him everything.
Admittedly, it had never happened on a horse in my imaginings. I count my blessings. We can't see each other's faces, at least. Perhaps that would make it easier. I can pretend I'm talking to the horse.
So I begin.
"My mother worked for the same family since she was a girl. Started as a scullery maid and ended up a ladies maid to the lady of the family." I picture her as I speak, soft age lines around her face, tightly managed bun, eyes that were always somewhere else. "Work was everything to her. My father worked as an underbutler at the same house. She was young when they married and had me, and she told me everyday it was the biggest mistake of her life." It's not a lie, even after my father died from a bad case of pneumonia she never talked of him well. "When I was born, she sent me to live with my grandmother. She died before I was five, and by then the lady of the house had a daughter. They took me on as a sort of playmate for her. Raised me to be her maid."
I pause a moment and listen for any reaction from Aleksi. The only sounds I pick up are his steady breathing and the scrape of the horses hooves on stray rocks.
Swallowing, I continue.
"My mother died when I was fourteen. I was already working as a housemaid, and I looked after Lady Eliza specifically."
Now the hard part.
"I suppose everything started when she went into society."
It's branded into my mind. Her wide smile as she spun in her tailor-made white dress, surrounded by her grinning parents and friends. I stood on the other side of the room. Not to be seen. I was wearing my uniform, hands calloused and rough in a way unbefitting of a lady.
"She had always been spoiled and impulsive. It only got worse when she… was noticed."
Tightness ratchets in my chest, the words becoming thick in my throat.
Maybe I should stop. There's no need to relive the past. I'm about to say so when one of Aleksi's hands leaves the reins, gripping mine.
He says nothing, but squeezes my hand once.
Tears prickle my eyes as I force the words out, too loud and fast.
"T—Thomas approached me first, wanting to know her. Making his interest in her readily known. I thought him to be much too old for her, but she insisted I comply with whatever he wanted. She got drunk on it, the idea of the power he could give her."
I suck in air, muscles tightening painfully.
"I went along with everything he wanted. I… I thought if I did something to anger him she would hate me. She was all I had."
The old feelings press against me, becoming raw and fresh in an instant.
"Slowly he—he became strange. Constantly writing to me, obsessed with what I was doing and thinking. I had no experience with men, let alone Dukes. I ignored it."
Bile rises in my throat.
"But everything changed the day he kissed me."
—
It was the tail end of spring four years ago, and the whole family had been invited to stay at the Duke's castle.
Lady Eliza was overjoyed, and, though I still had my reservations, I was pleased she was happy.
The duke had called me to the drawing room, and he looked serious. In the last few months I had worked twice, even three times, as hard with him. We fell into a routine that, though maybe not entirely comfortable, was familiar. I grew used to his quick temper, his casual closeness.
I'd never had a friend besides Lady Eliza before, so I chalked up any lingering discomfort to the difference in male friendships. Though, he felt more like an older relative, perhaps a cousin, than a simple friend.
A relationship based on obligation.
"Suppose I'll marry soon, then someone will be stuck with me."
A deep frown marred his face as he spoke the all too familiar sounding words.
"Thomas, you know the lady you marry will be lucky to have you."
My reply comes fast, practiced to a T. The first few times he talked like this, sympathy had squeezed my heart, but after knowing him so long, the words lost the impact they once carried.
He sat up, eyes intense.
"Do you really feel that way?"
He leaned forward, outer layers of his clothes shed in the heat.
I put my hands on his, putting on my best "genuine" smile.
"Of course I do."
His eyes searched my face, hands latching onto mine.
"Tell me honestly—do you want me to marry Eliza?"
The question made me freeze. Warring emotions crashed into me. I hesitated a moment before answering.
"I want Lady Eliza to be happy."
"That's not what I asked."
Panic and guilt made my chest tighten.
No. I don't want you to marry her. I want you to marry someone your own age. Who can deal with your temper.
Months of going against my instincts had made me raw, vulnerable. My face twisted in anguish and I knew he could see the truth in my eyes.
"You don't want me to marry her."
He'll be offended. He'll get mad.
But…
He hadn't been interested in her lately. Maybe, just maybe, he could let her down easily. Maybe she could find someone different.
I tried to gauge his expression, but his face was closed off, impassive.
"I…" I struggled to push the words past my throat, knowing they would be the ultimate betrayal of Eliza. I want her to be happy.
With someone else.
I shook my head, the breath rushing out of me. Defeated.
"No, I don't. I'm sorry for my impertinence."
"I forgive you."
My eyes snapped to his face, expecting annoyance, but instead he looked… pleased?
Guilt hit me like a blow.
Standing abruptly, I felt tears well up in my eyes. Who am I to decide who she can marry?
"You shouldn't. You shouldn't forgive me. And neither should Lady Eliza. You are what she wants."
My voice broke on the words, at the knowledge that I had once again let her down.
I was staring at my useless, empty hands when I saw him reach out and run a fold of my dress between his fingers.
Confusion snapped me out of my sorrow.
The strange, intimate action seemed so out of place, when I had just told him I did not think he was suitable for my lady.
I looked up at him, lost, only to find him closer than ever. I tried to step back, to distance myself from his burning expression, but his arms were locked around my waist.
I only had time to say his name once before he kissed me.
It was so far out of the realm of anything I had ever thought would happen I froze completely, not with consent, but with shock. My body took over on instinct.
Eyes closed. Muscles tense.
My limbs felt wooden, puppet like. Moving on instinct instead of desire.
The kiss itself was hard, like the grip he had on me, painful.
He smelled of cigar smoke and some cloying cologne I had always detested. My stomach turned, but my body refused to move.
Stop.
This had to stop.
I could not breathe. Could not think past this monumental disaster that was unfolding. It was only when a low groan came out of his throat and his tongue traced my bottom lip that my body finally responded to my pleas.
My hands flew up, grasping at his shirt, trying to push him away.
I couldn't breathe.
He mistook my struggle for surrender. His hand grasped the back of my head, pushing me ever closer.
I thought distantly to myself that even if he were not my Lady's love, this would not be enjoyable.
Too rough.
Too suffocating.
He stopped before I did. His mouth left mine but I still struggled, two steps behind.
He was smiling.
Pleased.
I was numb.
His mouth moved, but my ears were ringing so loud I couldn't make out what he was saying. He turned me around and pushed me in the direction of the door just as it opened.
Everything was happening so fast, yet my body moved through molasses. I watched myself from somewhere far away.
I don't remember who it was, or why they needed me.
I don't remember walking out of that room.
Only that I wished to be anyone but myself.