Devrim's Discipline - Brianna Hale Page 0,23

of sinking into her tight, wet heat, when we hear the front door open and close.

“Daddy, I’m home!”

My first thought is an angry, Fuck it all to hell, am I never going to have a moment of peace with this girl? My second is one of horror, because that’s my daughter, and she’s going to walk in on me, on the verge of deflowering her best friend.

I spring back from Wraye as Aubrey’s footsteps sound along the hall and disappear upstairs. She must think I’m in my study. I zip up and shove my shirt back into my pants, as Wraye drags her underwear up her legs and buttons her blouse.

I take her arm and lead her to the French windows. “Go out through the garden and down the side of the house. I’ll send a servant around to the gate in a few minutes to let you out.”

I open the glass doors. Wraye glances back toward the hall, anguish and shame burning on her face.

I catch her hand. “I’m not sorry, and you shouldn’t be either.”

Wraye casts me one last flushed, angry look. I suppose she has a hard time believing that when I’m smuggling her out through the garden. It’s as much for her sake, as it is for mine.

When Aubrey comes into the room, looking lovely in a pale green dress, I’m sitting innocently on the sofa. She glances at the coffee table in surprise.

“Your suit and my dress will be ready in two days’ time. Who were you having tea with?”

I look at the used, empty teacups. The plates and napkins set out for two. “One of the duchesses from Court. I wanted to talk to her about her son as a potential husband for you.”

Aubrey’s face falls. “Which one?”

“It doesn’t matter. She wasn’t suitable, nor was he.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Seeing the unhappiness on her face, I wish I’d made up a different excuse. Wraye would probably tell me that interviewing prospective mothers-in-law behind my daughter’s back, even pretend ones, isn’t the way to win Aubrey’s trust and love.

I clear my throat. “Would you like to sit down and finish this tea with me? We didn’t touch the scones. I’ll ring for another pot and new dishes.”

Aubrey backs away. “Sorry, I’ve got to go and check on Cinnamon. I’ll see you at dinner.”

With a flick of her skirt, she’s gone. Aubrey’s opinion of me has dipped even further. I run a frustrated hand through my hair and catch Lady Wraye’s scent on my fingers. Her expression as she disappeared through the French doors is enough to tell me she doesn’t think much of me right now, either.

Chapter Ten

Wraye

Another week. Another ball. Another evening of being ignored by everyone but Aubrey. Five days have passed since tea at Levanter House, so I’ve been able to put some distance between that shameful fiasco and seeing my friend again. I’m not sneaking around behind Aubrey’s back because I’m not involved with the Archduke and I never was.

That’s what I tell myself, anyway.

We just lost our heads. Twice. No one needs to know about what we did. I yank on a loose thread on my dress. I wish I didn’t know.

Earlier, Aubrey and I were able to drink punch together and talk, but she’s dancing now. Mama’s off gossiping, of course.

There’s a movement of scarlet in the corner of my vision, and my heart leaps into my throat. A surreptitious glance tells me that it’s the Archduke, and he’s circling the dancefloor toward me. I turn, intending to flee in the other direction, but there’s a cluster of people blocking my way. Before I can navigate around them, Levanter stops in front of me.

“Dance with me.”

I look past him, intent on watching the crowd. “That would be wildly inappropriate on so many levels.”

“I can dance with my daughter’s best friend,” he says, with the confidence of a man who knows he can do anything he likes.

I wince at daughter’s best friend. “You know that’s not a good idea. Go and dance with someone who would be happy for your attention.”

“I want to dance with you.” He takes me firmly by the hand and compels me toward the dancefloor. I want to tell him to piss off, like I would if we were alone, but I’m trapped into good behavior by hundreds of sets of eyes.

The music is a waltz, and his arm smoothly encircles my waist. I’ve never actually danced at court, and so it takes me a moment to remember that