Devrim's Discipline - Brianna Hale Page 0,19

stiff white card. I thought if Aubrey wanted to see me, she’d send me a text message like last time. This doesn’t sound like her at all. I suppose her father has told her we’re allowed to be friends, but we must do it his way.

I quickly lift my coffee cup to my lips, trying to conceal the blush that’s just sprawled across my cheeks. All night long, I had restless dreams about Archduke Levanter. I was unbuttoning the gold buttons on his scarlet uniform, his mouth on mine and his hard body moving against me. If having actual sex is anywhere as good as what I experienced last night at his hands, no wonder people go on about it so much.

My hands curl tighter around the handle of my coffee cup. Having sex with Archduke Levanter. What if he’s there at the house today? I don’t know how I’ll face him in front of Aubrey. I wish I’d gotten a good look at his face, but I was too busy hurrying to look presentable for Mama. Maybe it was filled with disgust at how aroused I was.

I shudder and shove the invitation card away.

“What’s this?” Mama looks up from her newspaper. I’ve accidentally shoved the card right at her.

“Nothing,” I say, trying to snatch it up. Mama gets there first and reads it.

“Lady Aubrey! Why didn’t you tell me you’d befriended a Levanter? With a connection like this, so many things will be possible for us.” She fixes me with an earnest look. “You mustn’t go upsetting her father, though. Don’t mention anything about the revolution or even old Paravel in front of him. Stick to safe topics like the beauty of his home and how his garden is the most splendid you’ve seen in Ivera.”

“I doubt he’ll even be there,” I say quickly, trying to hide my guilty expression. I’ve already upset him. Quite a lot.

But I took my punishment like a good girl, didn’t I?

I squirm in my seat, trying to dispel the tingles that have suddenly flared between my thighs.

Mama happily reaches for her paper once more. “Be sure to make a good impression today. If you do, we’ll find ourselves invited, not only to court balls, but to formal dinners at Levanter House. Imagine.” She sighs, gazing across the room. “It’s more than I ever dreamed.”

Formal dinners. I’m assaulted by my own daydreams of kneeling before Archduke Levanter, who’s dressed in a tuxedo and telling me to suck his fingers. I squeeze my thighs together tighter and let out the tiniest of whimpers.

“Don’t be nervous, darling,” Mama says, reaching over to pat my hand. “You’re doing so well at Court. Try putting yourself out there more.”

I choke a little and reach for a piece of toast, buttering it quickly to distract myself. Only, it’s not butter, it’s plasticky margarine. There was bread and real butter with smoked salmon on the supper table at the ball last night, and I didn’t get any.

Mama lapses into silence over the papers once more. A few minutes later, she slaps the last one down with an air of annoyance.

“Were you looking for something?”

“Yes. Something I heard at the ball last night. I felt sure it would be in the papers this morning.”

“If it’s that ridiculous rumor about a lady and a stallion, I’m glad that there is a line, and even the tabloids won’t print such ridiculous trash.”

Mama gazes at me, mystified. “How do you know it’s not true? Did Lady Aubrey tell you something? Did she deny it?”

I shut my mouth. I’m not a gossip, and Aubrey’s business is her own. “Never mind how I know. I wish you’d stop hunting for gossip and reading those horrible papers.”

Mama sits up, her expression severe. “Wraye, I asked you to tell me if you heard anything interesting at Court. Knowledge is power.”

“And what if the gossip was about me? What if other mothers and daughters in Ivera were sitting around their breakfast tables, discussing me and laughing about me?”

“Darling, you wouldn’t dream of putting yourself in any compromising situations.”

Oh, wouldn’t I?

“Go and get ready,” Mama commands, standing up. “I want your hair in curls and every inch of your dress neat, clean and pressed. Polish your shoes, too, and try to do something about your hands.”

I examine my hands as I go to my room. They’re chapped from years as a chambermaid, and even the new hand cream Mama bought doesn’t help much when I still have to wash dishes