Caught in the Storm of a Duke's - Abby Ayles Page 0,30

affecting him so, because her maid did not.

He had been aware of her gaze on him during the dinner. It had confused him. He hadn’t known what to think. If she was admiring him, if she was afraid, or if she had simply been as curious as himself.

Then, a very small part of him had hoped she had been unable to tear her eyes away because she found him intriguing and even … handsome.

Of course, he had chided himself the moment those thoughts had come to mind, aware that they were nothing but wishful thinking.

The meal had been lovely, and he would have stayed longer. If only she had not asked that question about my...

He heaved a sigh.

He felt terrible about leaving so abruptly. It had been rude, but it could not have been helped.

Everyone in Dunham knew not to mention … that word … or any word pertaining to it. His pain and suffering were already more than enough to bear.

Alas, this lady, who knew nothing of his past and the memories that clung to these walls, whispering hushed truths in the hallways, had uttered that blasted word.

He had been fortunate to make it to his chambers before giving in entirely to the fit that had so wickedly overtaken him.

How was it that a man who had no physical illness, ailed as much as he did?

His body was fit, but his mind was broken, his spirit despaired, and each day he felt the very life of him was seeping away.

It won’t be long now, he thought.

He wondered if Lady Judith appearing at his gates in his numbered days had anything to do with destiny.

If it was fate, then fate had once again proven herself a cruel mistress.

Yet, he could not deny there was a light about Lady Judith that shone out brightly, as if chasing away the darkness. No one else could see it yet, especially not her, but he could.

She was everything Dunham had not had in a while and it made him wonder…

… about the many things he dared not bring himself to speak aloud. He barely had the courage to think about them. And, even in the dark recesses of his mind, they remained nothing but hushed whispers.

Dangerous whispers he would be wise to take great care not to pay heed to.

***

Five days passed, and Judith and Amy still could not continue their journey. Just as Mr. Beauregard had said, the storms returned after two days of calm, and the weather remained treacherous.

Judith was grateful to have received word about the men employed to return Mr. Giraud to his family.

They had found him and had sent him home with a letter Judith had written for his wife and daughters.

There would come a time when she would see them herself and express her deepest regrets. Until then, she hoped her words in ink would bring some relief to their hearts.

Word had also been sent to her parents and her aunt. Although no reply had yet been received.

She supposed it would be a while until that happened, seeing as no one could risk journeying in such foul weather.

In those days, confined to the manor, she had to make some sort of routine for herself, lest she lost her mind to boredom.

In the mornings, she shared breakfast with Amy. Then, they took a walk in the hallways, stretching their legs.

Afterwards, they settled for tea before noon, in the atrium. There, they would read a book or two. Sometimes, they embroidered. At other times, they simply talked.

As the evening drew near, they returned to their chambers. Some days, she napped, on other days, she sat by her window, watching the rain pour down over the fields, keeping every living thing in their place of shelter.

Then, when the skies began to grow dark, with Amy’s help, she prepared for dinner.

Mr. Beauregard joined them every evening. However, the duke had declined to grace them with his presence after that unfortunate night.

She still felt those eyes watching her, but she had ceased to concern herself with the eerie feeling. Ghosts did not exist. Whoever it was, was human and, in no time, they would be caught or revealed.

As she took walks through the manor, she began to pay more attention to her surroundings. It was not difficult for her to find evidence that a woman had lived here.

There were touches of her life at every turn. A dainty flowerpot here, a neat garden there, a beautiful flowery painting in one hallway, and many