Chapter 3
Eileen's POV
"Did you really think I meant any of that?" Edmund's voice cut through the silence, sharp with amusement. "What's your name?"
I kept my eyes fixed on the Turkish rug beneath my feet, my hands stilling against my skirt. Years of servitude had taught me when silence was safer than speech.
"A woman I can have for free—why would I ever give her a title?" He laughed, swirling the brandy in his glass. The sound made my stomach twist. "You've been sharing my bed for a few years. Don't let it go to your head."
Each word landed like a physical blow. I’d always known what I was to him—a substitute for a wife too delicate to meet his needs. But hearing it spoken so plainly stripped away the last of my illusions.
"You may go," he said dismissively, already turning back to his papers.
I curtsied—muscle memory more than conscious thought—and fled. I made it halfway down the servants' corridor before the tears came, hot and bitter against my cheeks.
The door to our shared room stood slightly ajar, yellow candlelight spilling into the dark hallway. I pushed it open to find Rose huddled on her narrow bed, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
"Rose?" I crossed the room quickly, the floorboards creaking beneath my feet. "What's happened?"
She looked up, her face blotchy and streaked with tears. In her trembling hands, she clutched a piece of parchment bearing Lady Cecilia's personal seal. My heart sank.
"She's made arrangements," Rose whispered, her voice breaking. "For you."
I took the letter with numb fingers. The elegant script swam before my eyes as I read Cecilia's decision: I was to be married to Tommy, the stablemaster's son.
"Tommy?" The name came out as barely a whisper. I'd seen him in the gardens—a grown man with the mind of a toddler, laughing as he pulled the wings off butterflies. "But he's—"
"His mind is like a three-year-old's," Rose confirmed, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "And he likes to hurt small animals. I've seen him." She hiccupped, trying to control her sobbing. "Lady Cecilia said it's perfect. Tommy's father is loyal, and Tommy needs someone to care for him. She said..." Rose's voice dropped to a horrified whisper. "She said this way, you'll never be able to leave Ashford Manor. Ever."
The room tilted. I sank onto my bed, the letter crumpling in my fist. This was my future then—married to a man-child who crushed living things for entertainment, trapped forever in this prison of silk and stone.
Then, I remembered Cecilia had mentioned that the dowager duchess was looking for someone to enter a deathbed marriage with Lucien.
The dowager duchess's drawing room was everything the servants' quarters were not—flooded with afternoon light, decorated in rich fabrics and gleaming mahogany. I'd cleaned this room a hundred times, but never set foot in it.
The butler announced me with barely concealed surprise. The old duchess looked up from her book of poetry, her sharp eyes studying me with interest.
"Your Grace," I began, and watched her eyebrows rise at the sound of my voice.
"You speak?" She set down her book slowly, leaning forward in her chair.
"Yes, Your Grace. I was never truly mute—Lady Cecilia simply preferred me silent." I kept my gaze steady, though my heart hammered against my ribs. "I've heard that Master Lucien requires constant care. I wish to volunteer as his nurse."
Dr. Crawford, whom I hadn't noticed in the corner reviewing papers, straightened in surprise. The dowager duchess studied me with those keen eyes that seemed to see straight through to my bones.
"This is no small undertaking," she said carefully.
"I understand, Your Grace." My voice came out stronger than I felt. "But I would consider it an honor to ease Lucien's suffering, however I can."
The dowager duchess reached out and took my hand, her grip surprisingly strong. "Why?" she asked simply. "Why would you volunteer for such a burden?"
Because Edmund's laughter still echoed in my ears. Because Cecilia's letter promised a future worse than death. Because I had nothing left to lose and one last chance to choose my own path.
"Because Master Lucien deserves kindness," I said, and meant it.
Before she could respond, the doors burst open. Edmund strode in, his face arranged in charming concern, Cecilia following slowly behind him, one hand pressed to her stomach.
"Mother, we just heard," Edmund said warmly. "A servant has volunteered to care for Lucien? What wonderful news!" His eyes swept the room. "Where is this angel of mercy?"
"Such kindness should be rewarded," Cecilia added, her voice sweet as honey. "We must ensure she's properly compensated."
I turned slowly, sinking into a deep curtsy. "Your Grace. My lady."
Edmund's expression froze. "You?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
"But you're—you can't—" He caught himself, but not before I saw the panic flash across his face. "You're mute."
"No, Your Grace." I kept my voice level, though satisfaction burned in my chest. "I can speak. Lady Cecilia simply preferred me silent. She didn't like my voice."
The dowager duchess's hand tightened on mine. "How extraordinary. And how loyal, to obey such a request for so long." She looked at Cecilia with an expression I couldn't quite read. "My dear, you never mentioned your maid could speak."
Cecilia's smile didn't waver, but her eyes went cold. "It seemed... unimportant."
"Unimportant." The dowager duchess's tone could have cut glass. She turned back to me. "You understand what this means, child? Serving as Lucien's nurse until his death—you would be considered his widow afterward. You would never marry."
I dropped to my knees, pressing my forehead to the floor. "I would never regret it, Your Grace. Never."
Edmund's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Mother, surely you can't be considering—"
"Why not?" The old woman's voice was sharp. "The girl is willing. Dr. Crawford approves. What possible objection could you have?"
"You've made a noble choice," the dowager duchess said. "Is there anything else you require? If it's within my power, I'll grant it."
I turned my head, letting my gaze fall on Cecilia. She stood perfectly still, but I saw the flash of fear in her eyes as our gazes met. She knew what was coming.
"There is one thing, Your Grace." I kept my voice steady. "My friend Rose—she's also in Lady Cecilia's service. I would ask that she be transferred to serve you directly."
Cecilia's smile faltered. She took a small step backward.
"Rose?" The dowager duchess considered this. "The quiet girl with the brown hair?"
"Yes, Your Grace. She's loyal and hardworking. I would rest easier knowing she's under your protection."
"Then it's done." The old woman nodded decisively. "Rose will join my household. I'll see she's well cared for."
"But—" Cecilia's voice came out higher than usual. "Rose is one of my maids. She—"
"She's just a servant," Edmund cut in, his voice hard. He shot Cecilia a warning look. "If Mother wants her, give her up."
The dowager duchess's expression grew cold as she stared at her daughter-in-law. "Yes, Cecilia. Just a servant. Surely you can spare one girl?"
Cecilia's jaw tightened. After a long moment, she forced a smile. "Of course, Mother. I'll have the employment contracts brought immediately—both Eileen's and Rose's."
